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He followed Rook through the Treviso markets, watching as she paused occasionally to look through a merchant's stock or speak to someone. Her manner was personable, and it was clear that she had taken the time to learn these merchant's names and details about them.
Rook didn't shop with any particular pattern or hurry. She had a list of items she wanted to get, but she tarried at times just to look over wares. He knew that Lucanis had likely told her of times he and Lucanis had come to the market together. He'd heard his cousin tell the story before, how he'd wandered the market for four hours while Illario looked for a pair of gloves.
It had been years since then, but that memory had impacted how Lucanis looked at him.
He wondered if Lucanis had ever really sensed his resentment, or his anger at how Caterina, and almost everyone else, always treated him as lesser. Illario would fully admit as he grew older that once he realized people would always compare him to his cousin and find him wanting, that he could use that to his advantage. He'd started deliberately letting people underestimate him.
That was one reason Lucanis had never suspected him of being a part of the Venatori plot in the first place.
He remembered the first time he'd met Zara, in another market in a city in Tevinter. He knew now that they'd both seen a way they could use each other after that meeting. His decision to ask Zara to dispose of Lucanis, and his decision to ally with the Venatori had been all him.
It was a sin he would likely be working to redeem himself from for the rest of his life.
His decision to seek someone out to kill Lucanis had been borne of his frustration and his resentment. Lucanis had never wanted to be First Talon, but Lucanis also never would have been willing to tell Caterina no. Foolishly he'd thought if he removed Lucanis from the picture, Caterina would finally look upon him as her heir.
Of course she hadn't. He would never be enough for Caterina Dellamorte.
It had only been after that night that Lucanis had confronted him in the Opera house that he'd been willing to admit it aloud, though.
This market day, following Rook as she browsed stall after stall, seemed far happier and removed from the day he'd met Zara.
The company was also more pleasant.
He tracked Rook as she stopped at a weapons stall, idly glancing over the merchandise. While others around them might think he had his head in the clouds, standing a few feet back from Rook, looking as if he had not a real care in the world, but he noticed her gaze fall on a particular stiletto.
Her favorite spellblade had been damaged in their last job together, the tip bent when she'd resorted to throwing the blade at a fleeing Antaam. She still wasn't satisfied with her attempts to repair the tip.
And right it was obvious to him that she was interested in the stilleto.
He wandered over, sliding an arm around her waist for a moment as they stood together. “See anything you like, mi ceila?” he inquired.
Rook shrugged casually. “Just looking,” she replied.
Given her background in the CIrcle, before Viago had taken her in, he knew she had difficulty asking for things she wanted. Such things had been discouraged during her childhood, and during her training as a Crow she'd seen asking for anything beyond the necessary as a weakness as a result.
Illario picked up the very knife she'd been eying and examined it carefully. It was a good blade, well balanced, and the hilt bore a crow's head, the beak opening up into the hilt. A deep purple gem winked in the laterns of the market.
“We will take this one,” Illario informed the merchant, reaching into his pouch and passing over the coin to pay for it., Casually he handed it to Rook. “A new spellblade. You'll need it soon. Lucanis said he had another contract he wanted us to take on.”
Rook gazed at him, something flickering in her eyes as she accepted the blade and slipped it into the empty sheath at her waist. Illario made a note to see what other blades were in the armory at Villa Dellamorte. It would be useful for Rook to have an extra spellblade on her, and recently she'd taken to wearing an extra blade in her thigh sheath of the style that he preferred.
It was only right he returned the favor and carried an extra spellblade for her.
“Thank you,” Rook murmured quietly, so only he could hear as they walked away from the merchant's stall.
“My pleasure, mi ceila,” he told her.
Originally when he'd begun working with her after the Siege of Minrathous as a part of his penance, he'd done so only out of necessity.
As his soulmate, Lucanis seemed to feel that Rook was one of the few people who would not automatically fall for Illario's charms, and he was right. Every time he'd turned a charming smile to her or tried to escape her notice, Rook would fix him with a glare.
She'd been the first woman he’d attempted to pursue that had turned him down.
Much of their time in the months after the Siege of Minrathous had been spent on contracts to clean up lingering problems caused by the Evanuris and their followers. A few of them were unpleasant, and a few rather dangerous, but Rook had insisted on taking them instead of resting on her laurels as a hero.
He'd been annoyed with her at first. Trying to seduce her had become a kind of game after the first month, but she'd continued to resist.
He'd finally stopped trying after six months of working with her. No amount of charm or seduction would lure her to his bed. If he wanted to win her, he would actually have to try.
That had been eight months ago. And in that time, he'd fallen in love with Rosabela de Riva's stubbornness.
In her he'd met his match. She not only didn't take his shit, she called him out on it, sometimes with a blade biting into his skin as she backed him up against a wall.
That got to him far more than any coy smile or flirt he'd ever seen.
Reluctantly at first, he'd admitted his feelings for her. By that point she'd accepted working with him and had actually become his friend, but he wanted more with her.
The first time he'd called her mi ceila, it had been by accident. They'd just finished a job and he saw her standing over the body of a fallen Venatori, the blood of her enemies on her leathers and broken red crystal scattered around her feet and been captivated.
“Mi Ceila, you are more beautiful than the stars,” he'd murmured.
She'd stared at him for a good minute before he saw her relax. Casually she'd walked over to him and tapped his shoulder with the hilt of her blade. “Your sky, is it?” she'd asked.
He'd surprised himself by saying, “Yes. My sky, a necessary part of my world.”
Her expression had actually softened, and she'd smiled. “Keep it up, and maybe I'll stick with you.”
And she had. Even when Viago had questioned the necessity of her continuing to supervise Illario on jobs, suggesting another Crow could do so, she'd insisted on continuing to partner with Illario.
Now she smiled at him, her fingers dancing lightly over the hilt of the stiletto he'd bought for her, then reached out and for a brief moment allowed her fingers to tangle with his before she returned to shopping.
He smiled back, thinking that today was perhaps one of the best visits to the Treviso markets that he could remember.