Chapter Text
Lucanis had insisted Rook be taken to his old room in the villa. Propriety be damned—it was the safest place for her. He knew every inch of that room, every shadow and crevice in the surrounding wing. There were no hidden corners, no concealed spaces where a blade could lie in wait, or a servant could slip through unseen. Rook hadn’t woken yet, still lost in the aftermath his cousin’s final act. Viago thought it might be some time before she did, and that was no surprise. She had been truly dead for those agonizing minutes before he and Viago brought her back.
Illario, you fool. Lucanis sighed at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. It was getting long, he realized.
Viago was with Rook now, while Bellara had returned to the Lighthouse to inform their companions of what had happened and that they’d be staying behind for a while—at least until Rook woke up. Teia had stayed with Lucanis, her quiet presence grounding him.
Yet the last hour kept replaying in his mind. Realization finally settling in on what had happened. What they could have lost. How had he failed to see it earlier? He’d known the poison—dammit, it had been crafted for him. He should have caught the signs. But all he had seen was a grinning Rook, breathless, her cheeks flushed after the battle’s rush. He hadn’t noticed the subtle hitch in her breath or the way her pulse fluttered too fast against her throat.
Too fast for her.
Not that he’d ever counted. Not that he’d memorized its rhythm.
But he had.
Of course he had.
He was a Crow, after all—a damn good one at that. Observation was second nature. He knew the quirks and tells of every member of their crew. Harding, playing with the hem of her shirt when she got flustered. Neve, getting defensive meant she’d tap her arm. No way anyone was getting any answers out of her if that happened. Davrin’s gruff replies at dinner when a darkspawn had gotten too close for comfort.
And Rook, their leader. Always drawing them out, encouraging them to share stories and laughter. She had a knack for it—making people feel heard.
Rook—wearing her loose tunics at the Lighthouse, the ones that left her neck bare. Bare enough that he couldn’t help but notice the slope of her collarbone, the way the fabric dipped just so.
He’d noticed her heartbeat then, too, its rhythm betraying what she tried to hide behind that practiced calm. The faint quickening when frustration flickered—whenever someone pulled her aside with yet another request. And still, she’d listen, patient and kind, offering soft smiles and reassurances.
And at night, when the conversations died down with the embers in the fireplace, he’d seen the weight of her fears. Fears she’d never voice aloud, not to burden them. But her heart would tell him.
It would also tell him something else. How it stuttered and raced, just a little, when he spun his wild, exaggerated tales late into the evening. How it jumped in time with her laugh, especially when he managed to make her truly smile.
How could he have missed it this time?
And still, he’d failed her. He’d realized only when it was too late, when her body lay lifeless before him. His stomach twisted at the memory of her stillness, the absence of any beat beneath his fingers where he touched her neck. He could still feel the cold dread as he’d leaned down, forcing air into her lungs. Was that their first kiss? The thought hit like a blow. The kiss of life, stolen from death. It was. He had denied her a kiss before, at the Lighthouse, hadn’t he?
He shuddered, trying to push the image from his mind. But it lingered, sharp and unforgiving.
“Now, Lucanis, my boy.” Caterina pulled him back to the now. He reluctantly tore himself away from the window to face his grandmother. This should have been a joyous day, he thought. Caterina alive and well in villa Dellamorte. Illario’s plan foiled, shackled but not lost to the Venatori. Or the fury of the other Houses. Lucanis now First Talon. Mierda, he would deal with the implications of that later.
“We have a lot to catch up on. Now, sit.” Her hands where folded over the cane in front of her.
Her voice still carried command. Even if he now did outrank her.
So he did.