The door opened, and the steward stepped in with a bow of his head. "She's here."
Lucanis didn't shift from his seat. He simply watched. And there she was - Starling, in blue. Not a flashy dress, nothing meant to impress. It was simple, short-sleeved, practical for the heat, clinging here and there where it caught against the breeze. Her black boots were scuffed from the road, and her honey-coloured hair was loose and slightly damp.
Washed recently. For them? Or just to rinse off the road?
She moved like someone who belonged in a place but never settled. Light on her feet. That same measured grace they'd first noticed from the balcony when she'd been balancing between laughter and knives.
She smiled when she saw them, wide enough to be real, crooked enough to be Starling.
Lucanis didn't smile back, but something in his chest tensed.
Maker, she looked like something out of a fever dream. Ethereal. Mischievous. Like a sylvan trickster who might laugh and vanish through the walls if you blinked too long.
She held up their letter between two fingers.
"You summoned?" she said lightly, her voice threaded with dry humour.
Lucanis opened his mouth, but Viago got there first. Of course he did.
"Invited," Viago corrected, with a smile like silk draped over sin.
She made a low sound in her throat, amused and unbothered, and stepped further inside. Her hips moved in that fluid way they always did, not intentionally seductive, but Lucanis noticed anyway.
She passed the credenza and set the letter down as she always did. Just a flick of her wrist, like she couldn't be bothered to keep evidence in hand any longer than necessary. She never took them back to the Hall. Smart girl.
She turned toward them fully then, that cool, self-contained look back on her face. But Lucanis had already caught the flicker, the quick glance at the table, the pause.
Her gaze had landed on the bowl of candied almonds. Not cautiously. Not warily. Not like someone assessing for poison or presentation. But with fondness. Real and unfiltered. Almost warm.
He could count on one hand the number of times she'd looked at either of them like that. And here she was, looking at sugar-soaked almonds like they might offer her absolution. Lucanis lifted the bowl and held it out to her, watching her the whole time. No smile. No pressure. Just an offering.
She hesitated - barely - then stepped closer, slipping a hand in. Took one between her fingers and popped it into her mouth.
Viago leaned forward slightly, eyes glittering. "Did we do something right, little bird?"
Starling arched a brow. "You stocked the good sweets. That earns you another half hour at least."
Lucanis's lips curved faintly. Not quite a smile. More a crack in the mask. They said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Perhaps it wasn't gender specific.
And perhaps, not for the first time, Lucanis wished it were that simple. Because he'd give her the whole fucking kitchen if it meant she'd look at him the way she just looked at those almonds.
--
Viago watched her tongue flick over her lips after the almond and tucked away the image for later.
He reached for her hand before she could slip back into that neutral poise she wore like armour. Her fingers were still cool from the courtyard air. Delicate bones. Quick, calloused palms. A killer's hands, disguised in something almost soft.
He brought her down into the chair beside him. She didn't resist, but there was a flicker of hesitation. Good. Not fear. Not distaste. Just… surprise.
Because she'd clocked the table now. Fully. A real dinner. Duck, cheese, fresh bread, still warm. Wine that didn't burn going down. A small vase of flowers - Maker, Lucanis must have told someone to add that, which meant Lucanis was far deeper in this than he'd admit.
Starling, for her part, was trying not to look caught off guard. But Viago saw the tiny shift in her spine, the way her gaze darted to each item on the table like she didn't trust it.
No, tesora. We're not trying to fatten you for the slaughter. We're trying to make you stay.
He poured her wine, just half a glass, and kept his tone light. "We heard you got back today."
Starling nodded. "I did."
"It went well, I trust?"
"Yes."
Nothing else. No elaborate story, no clever jab, no complaint about heat, injuries, or irritating partners. Just that. One-word answers. The universal currency of don't ask me more. Viago arched a brow and sipped his own wine, pretending to consider that.
"A woman of few words," he murmured, amused.
Starling's lips twitched. "Isn't that what men prefer?"
Before he could reply, Lucanis spoke, low and bone-dry. "Not always."
Viago glanced over at him, something amused sparking in his eyes. Well, well. That was more than Lucanis usually offered to anyone not holding a blade to his throat.
Starling smiled faintly, but her posture remained cautious. Still trying to determine the rules. Still bracing for the shift from sweet to sour.
He watched her take the smallest piece of bread and tear it apart with graceful fingers, slow and distracted.
She didn't speak much because she couldn't, not safely. Not in the Crow Halls, not around the other recruits, not when every rise through the ranks would be dissected, attributed to her face or her hips or the fact that she was sleeping with them.
Viago highly doubted she kept her words short because some man once preferred it. She did it to survive. And maybe to protect whatever was still hers.
He leaned in just slightly, keeping his voice velvet-smooth. "You don't have to talk, little bird. But you're allowed to."
Her eyes flicked to him, cool and sharp. And then, for just a second, softer.
Lucanis reached forward, fingers brushing the rim of the almond bowl. Viago saw the way Starling glanced at it again.
Good. She can think it's about almonds. That we're easing her into something soft and safe.
He wanted her to feel it before she realised they'd already tied the knot. He smiled. They were going to feed her. Charm her. Make her stay past midnight.
And when she realised she'd stayed too long, they'd already be curled around her like vines, tightening slowly.
--
The hours passed in slow, deliberate increments. Dinner was a quiet, measured affair. Starling said little, and none of it revealing. No anecdotes from the mission. No tales from training. No childhood slip-ups. Just clean answers, sharpened for utility.
Viago didn't press. He asked instead about the wine - did she like it? She did. She admitted it reminded her of something sweet and golden from years ago, though she didn't name what. She picked at the cheese and duck but accepted seconds of the almonds. Three more, to be exact. Always one at a time. Always with that tiny pause, like she was letting herself feel it.
Lucanis said almost nothing. But he watched. Maker, did he watch.
Viago felt the weight of it across the table - Lucanis's gaze following the way Starling's fingers smoothed a napkin, the soft pinch between her brows when she thought too long about a question, the delicate, defensive way she reached for her wine with her left hand, like she was keeping her dominant hand free just in case.
She didn't relax. But she didn't run either. Which, to Viago, was always a good sign.
They hadn't touched her. Not yet. Lucanis was nearly vibrating with restraint beside him, thigh tense beside his own. Viago took the lead. He always did when things needed gentling.
When the meal wound down, Starling gave a soft sigh, that rare half-smile teasing the corner of her lips. Not for them. Not quite. But for herself, perhaps. A soft, secret indulgence that they'd let her have.
Viago rose first, smooth and deliberate. "Come," he said, offering her his hand.
She hesitated, just for a breath. Then placed her hand in his. Lucanis moved to her other side like a shadow falling into place.
They led her to the next room. Viago glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't resisting. But she wasn't melting, either.
They reached the bedroom. The moment her feet crossed the threshold, something shifted. She moved more easily. Unbuttoned the collar of her dress without being prompted. Turned to set her boots beside the dresser. A routine.
Ah. Familiar ground.
She wasn't entirely comfortable in their presence. But this? This she understood.
Viago let his smile curve, slow and indulgent. "You always get more graceful when you know what we want."
She looked over her shoulder, a glint in her eyes. "You always get quieter when you're about to ask for it."
Lucanis huffed behind her, low and amused. Viago reached for her wrist, not to drag but to guide. He brushed his fingers over her pulse, then raised her hand and kissed her palm.
"I don't plan to ask tonight," he murmured against her skin. "You'll offer."
She tilted her head, mouth parting slightly. Not in invitation. In calculation.
He could see it. She was trying to decide what kind of game this was. Why the dinner. Why the wine. Why the little touches that had nothing to do with raw need and everything to do with claiming.
Good, he thought as he led her toward the bed, Lucanis circling behind. I want her to wonder. To feel it creeping in. The moment she tries to leave… she'll realise she doesn't know how.
When Viago kissed her, she kissed him back. Viago felt it in the press of her full, soft mouth - responsive, sure, but never surrendering. Her lips were warm, made for this. She knew how to kiss with precision, with purpose. Everything she did was purposeful.
And Maker, how he liked peeling that purpose away, layer by layer.
Lucanis's hands slid over her hips as Viago deepened the kiss. He heard the shift in her breath when Lucanis's mouth found her neck. A sigh caught in her throat. She tilted her head for him, not because they asked, but because it felt good. Because it was familiar.
Their clothes fell in stages, careless and efficient, between exploring hands and mouths. Lucanis tugged his own shirt over his head, Viago tossed her dress aside after removing it slowly , deliberately, as if stripping away armour. They had done this a few times already, but there was something different now in the way they handled her.
Viago's hands dropped to her thighs, then lower, and with a sure grip, he lifted her effortlessly. She let out a sound - half-laugh, half-breath - as her legs wrapped around him. Weightless in his arms. Small between them.
She gasped when he entered her, head dropping forward, lips brushing his jaw. Maker, she was tight, hot and clenching around him, and the sound she made when she adjusted her hips nearly undid him.
And then Lucanis stepped in behind. His hands bracketed her waist. The warmth of his body pressed flush against her back.
Viago caught the change in Lucanis's breath and met his gaze over Starling's shoulder.Lucanis's eyes were burning. And he was smiling. A small thing. Crooked. Almost predatory. Enjoying this - not just the pleasure, but the hold.
He began to push in behind, slow, almost torturously so, and Viago felt her tense between them, her breath hitching sharply. His hands remained steady on her, anchoring her there, keeping her in place. She bit his shoulder. Hard. He grunted, fingers digging into her thighs in return. Their gazes locked.
She's ours. We are not letting her slip away again.
Viago knew it then, as certainly as the sweat forming on his spine and the way her moan vibrated against his throat.
They'd taken lovers before. Shared before. But none of them bit back. None of them slipped away in the night. None of them lingered in his thoughts the way she did, almonds and laughter and wary glances behind that soft mouth.
Being buried inside her wasn't just physical. It was territory. And Maker help them both; Viago was starting to think it was the only place he wanted to be.
She was wrapped around him, breath hot against his throat, arms tight at his shoulders as Lucanis rocked into her from behind. The rhythm they found wasn't graceful - it was hungry. All mouths and moans muffled in skin. She was so small between them, held there like a stolen prayer.
Her hand gripped Viago's shoulder hard - steadying or anchoring, he didn't know - and her head tilted back onto Lucanis's shoulder, exposing her throat.
Lucanis didn't waste the invitation.
Viago watched, panting, as his lover's mouth latched high on her neck. Too high. Higher than her collars. Her armour. The subtle little ways she kept this quiet. Intentional, possessive, and a declaration.
She gasped, sharp and short, and Viago felt the shift. Her body went tense, shivering against them both, and he knew it was happening. Her walls clenched down on him so hard he nearly lost himself right there. She bit her lip hard enough he thought she'd split it. Viago growled and kissed her, hard, to stop her from tearing herself open.
She melted into it, but the moment swallowed her first. He felt it roll through her, and then it took him, too.
His breath faltered, hips bucking deep as he spilled inside her, clinging to that final sharp spark of heat. And even before he could catch his breath, Lucanis let out a low, ragged groan behind her, thrust once - deep and hard - and followed them both into the abyss.
The three of them stilled there, tangled and spent. No words. Just the sound of panting. The scent of skin, and sweat, and sex.
Lucanis was the first to move, slowly slipping free from her with a hiss between his teeth. He touched her back once, just a brush of fingers, oddly gentle, before he turned away, likely to fetch water or breathe.
Viago didn't let her go. He shifted back onto the bed, still holding her against his chest. Her arms loosened, finally, but her head remained tucked under his chin.
He felt her heartbeat. Fast, fluttering, and slowly coming down. Viago didn't say anything. He didn't whisper soft reassurances or coax her into sleep. That wasn't the plan.
He looked over her head, gaze meeting Lucanis's across the dim, golden wash of the candlelit room. A single glance. That was all it took.
Lucanis nodded once and turned, the lines of his back still damp with sweat, muscles shifting beneath skin as he crossed the room toward the pitcher. He poured water into a glass. This wasn't about courtesy. It was preparation.
Hydrate her. Then take her again. And again. Until she can't stand. Until she stops thinking about leaving.
Viago shifted, not to pull out, but to ease her thighs wider again. She let out a soft, drowsy sound - more instinct than awareness - but didn't stop him. She was pliant now, her body warm and boneless against his chest, tucked perfectly in his arms. She usually was after she came. She turned into a dozey little creature.
Lucanis returned with a cool cloth, his other hand carrying a glass that glistened faintly with condensation. He didn't speak. He knelt beside the bed and pressed the cloth lightly to the back of her neck, to her temple, to the curve of her spine where sweat had gathered.
She stirred then, just barely. Viago took the glass and tipped it to her lips.
"Drink," he murmured.
Her brow furrowed, but she did, sipping slowly, obediently, like a woman half-dreaming. Like someone safe.
Viago's throat tightened at that. We're going to ruin her for anyone else.
Lucanis leaned in, his lips brushing her shoulder. "Still with us, little star?"She blinked again. And nodded slow.
Lucanis took the glass back. "Good."
Then he kissed her spine. Lower. Then lower still. And Viago felt the coil begin again.