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Arianna De Riva let out a deep sigh.
For a week now, she had been keeping watch over Spite in Lucanis’s room — the pantry he used as his bedroom — all in an attempt to make sure Lucanis actually slept.
Lucanis, however, refused to allow Arianna — “Rook” — to sleep on the floor.
Instead, he took the floor himself and gave her the bed.
Though calling it a bed was generous.
It was really nothing more than a hard wooden bench.
She had repeatedly told him, “I’m not sleeping there. Use it yourself,” while watching him desperately bring in softer blankets and pillows, trying to turn it into something comfortable for her.
But Lucanis only responded with vague sounds.
“Ah...”
“Mm...”
Completely unhelpful noises that answered nothing.
And even after they exchanged their goodnight wishes, Arianna had kept one eye slightly open, watching him.
She was worried that Spite might take control of his body and cause trouble while he slept.
But, just as she feared, Lucanis did not sleep at all.
Every so often, he would glance at her with concern, then turn his back again.
Over and over.
“Lucanis.”
With dark circles clearly visible beneath her eyes, she confronted him in the dining hall while they were alone.
“Everyone is making all kinds of assumptions about what I’m doing in your room.”
“They’re all grinning and coming up with ridiculous ideas.”
“I have to keep explaining that nothing is happening.”
She pointed at him.
“And even so, I’ve been lying down in the same room with you every night just to make sure you sleep. And you still stubbornly refuse to rest.”
Lucanis faltered.
But more than that, he felt a painful guilt seeing the exhaustion darkening her lovely eyes.
“Please, Rook. There is simply no way I can—”
He stopped.
Because he could feel the silent pressure in her expression.
The one that said:
I told you. It was an order.
Lucanis fell quiet.
“Even if you’re... chasing Zara...you still need to sleep, otherwise... you can’t—”
She suddenly went slightly cross-eyed, shook her head as if trying to clear away the exhaustion, and stumbled, catching herself against the table.
“Look!”
She pointed weakly.
“A very powerful wisp is passing through. It’s burning the eluvian, there isn’t a single book of gingerbread left! Naturally...”
She was half asleep.
Mumbling nonsense somewhere between dreams and reality, she blinked slowly.
Then her eyes rolled upward again, and her head tipped back with a sudden jerk.
Rook was the one who had reached her limit.
Lucanis knew he should not laugh.
But she was simply too adorable.
And the fact that she allowed herself to be this vulnerable in front of him filled him with a warmth he could not hide.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Lucanis slipped one arm beneath her back and the other beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly.
“Lucani—s...”
She was barely conscious, her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to stay awake, yet she still called his name.
The sound sent a strange mixture of unease and joy through him.
He felt guilty.
Of course he did.
But knowing that she cared for him this much made his heart beat faster.
Even if it was only the affection she held for a companion.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Making certain not to disturb her sleep, Lucanis carried her to her room.
When he noticed the couch she had apparently been using in place of a proper bed, his awareness that he had entered her private space without permission became impossible to ignore.
He took a slow breath, trying to calm his restless heart.
He gently laid her small frame down.
She was already deeply asleep, breathing softly and peacefully.
For someone who had been trained so thoroughly as an assassin, to become this exhausted was no small thing.
She had been pushed to her limits, and still she had worked herself this hard for his sake.
“Forgive me, Rook.”
He whispered.
Her left hand moved slightly.
Fighting the sudden embarrassment rising within him, he carefully reached for it and held her hand gently.
The blue glow swaying around them blurred the boundary between their hands, creating the illusion that their fingers were slowly melting into the same light.
Her hand was small.
Unable to resist the tenderness he felt, Lucanis lowered himself to one knee.
Then he reached out and carefully lifted her other hand as well, gently tracing her slender fingers with his thumb, as if admiring something fragile and precious.
To touch her while she slept, without her knowing, felt dangerously intimate to him.
A feeling of guilt and uncertainty ran through him.
And yet, he could not bring himself to let go.
“You are beautiful.”
“To me, you are the most remarkable woman in the world.”
“Rook...”
Lucanis was disappointed in himself that he could only whisper such words when she could not hear them.
And yet, he allowed himself to be lost in the quiet beauty of this secret moment.
The world rested in this small, delicate hand.
A hand that had grown calloused from holding daggers again and again was now a symbol of hope — the hope that would decide the fate of Thedas.
He would support her.
He swore it.
With that vow in his heart, he gently tightened his hold on her hand.
Only slightly.
Her brow moved faintly, and the corner of her lips lifted into the smallest smile.
No one knew — not even Lucanis himself — how gentle and peaceful his expression was as he looked at her.
If she would only answer his feelings someday...
With that quiet wish, he leaned closer to press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.
But then her lips moved.
“Il...lario.”
Lucanis’s heart froze.
Completely.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
The name she whispered in her sleep echoed again and again in his mind.
A cruel reminder.
A reminder that she had just spoken the name of his charming cousin.
He fought desperately not to tighten his grip and wake her.
And there, silently, he trembled.
The moment Illario had passed by and casually complimented her hair.
The time she had come to the Diamond of Cantori to rescue Lucanis from the ossuary.
That terrible night when he returned and learned of Caterina’s death.
The moment they had met at Café Pietra to exchange information about Zara Renata.
That was all.
That was the entirety of her connection with Illario.
And yet...
After everything they had shared.
After all the meals they had eaten together.
After all the conversations.
After fighting side by side, trusting each other’s backs.
She had called Illario’s name.
Not his.
After Lucanis returned from the ossuary, Illario had been an emotional mess.
Outraged.
Driven by unreliable information.
Frustrated and desperate, losing the composure he always prided himself on.
A foolish man.
No.
That was unfair.
He had always been like that.
How many times had Lucanis cleaned up after him?
“Mierda...”
The word escaped from between his clenched teeth.
Illario’s perfectly calculated smile.
The exaggerated, seductive Antivan accent that seemed to brush against the ear.
The dramatic expressions that wrapped around the heart like a slow-acting poison.
Were those things...
Were they reaching deeper into her heart than all the days Lucanis had spent beside her?
Lucanis stared at the hand he still held.
Consumed by a jealousy that burned like fire.
Illario.
Illario.
Why did it have to be you?
If you had been a complete stranger, perhaps Lucanis could have hated you cleanly.
His heart had been ready to accept simply loving her.
To wait.
To hope that one day those feelings might be returned.
But once again, he found himself swallowed by a dark and twisting uncertainty.
He wanted to be healed by her innocent smile and honest praise, like the day they had shared the coffee they had blended together for her.
He wanted to hear her call his name in that gentle voice.
To see her kind gestures again.
The more he longed for it, the more the purple light in Lucanis’s eyes began to gather.
Her rose-blonde hair.
Every single strand, even the loose ones that escaped, was perfectly beautiful.
(Tell me, Rook...)
(Have you been growing your hair this long all this time, hoping that Illario would notice you again someday?)
Then, when the impossible thought crossed his mind—
That perhaps she and Illario had been meeting in secret without his knowledge—
Lucanis felt a pair of dark, ominous wings burst open behind him.
Grrr...!
Spite growled.
You ruined it, Lucanis!
The rough voice echoed through his mind.
But somehow, it sounded almost pleased.
Let’s get rid of him.
Teach him a lesson, Lucanis!
“Stop!”
The shout escaped him before he could stop it.
And the moment he realized his mistake, it was already too late.
The woman who had only just managed to fall asleep startled awake.
“Spite!! Lucanis...”
She tried to shout for him to release Lucanis, but—
“Shh... It’s all right.”
Lucanis gently stopped her and guided her back down onto the couch.
The violet light slowly faded from his eyes.
“My room... I...”
“You collapsed in the dining hall. I carried you here.”
He spoke softly, forcing his voice to remain calm.
“I’m sorry. I’m going now, so just sleep, all right?”
“Mmm...”
Lucanis suddenly realized he was still holding her hand.
He panicked.
But she squeezed his hand back.
She refused to let go.
“Rook...my hand...”
When he carefully pulled away, twisting slightly so he would not disturb her, her long pale fingers slowly loosened.
They fell against her chest as if giving up.
“Warm...”
She murmured, already half asleep.
She had no idea how deeply those simple words affected him.
She only looked peaceful.
And Lucanis, overwhelmed by a possessiveness dangerously close to hatred, felt both that burning desire to keep her close—
and the shame of himself for feeling it at all.
Illario and Rook?
As if they would have the time.
Seeing her—exhausted from constantly dealing with one crisis after another, never failing to care for her companions even for a moment—how could he have let such cruel thoughts enter his mind?
She was simply a young, innocent woman who had reached adulthood without ever knowing love, who had her hair complimented by an older, handsome, elegant man, and who had been honestly delighted by it, her heart fluttering with excitement.
No. This would not do.
Lucanis clenched his fist.
There were matters that had to be settled first.
But this desperate, aching affection was not something that could be neatly hidden away. He could not spend eternity reacting to every little thing, swaying between restraint and desire. Realizing her feelings for him, becoming jealous, soaring with hope, then falling into despair again…
He had been repeating the same cycle over and over.
He had always told himself that he needed to remain at his best. That to do so, he had to keep these emotions under control.
But what if that was only making things worse?
Could something this powerful truly be controlled by reason alone?
Lucanis was an assassin raised and perfected by House Dellamorte. He had been taught how to captivate a target just as thoroughly as Illario had, and he should have been able to act as charmingly as necessary.
He simply had never needed to rely on it.
Using those skills on the woman he truly loved felt wrong to him. Besides, he had already spent so much time allowing her to see him only as a difficult man—someone severe about his duties, someone consumed by shadows.
(I am not Illario. But there is nothing wrong with doing everything I can to win her heart.
The inviting smile, the graceful escort, the meaningful gaze, the special sweetness in the way I say her name… all those things I was trained to use. If they are for the sake of making her look at me…)
Lucanis thought with the force of a rushing flood.
Andraste…
And yet, only in front of her did it fail.
Only with her could he not become the perfectly crafted, irresistibly charming man he had been taught to be.
In truth, it was the gentle side of Lucanis—the small acts of consideration and quiet kindness—that she had always recognized as his true nature.
But Lucanis, cornered by feelings that threatened to overwhelm him, had no room left to notice that.
And she, worrying that he might feel embarrassed if those things were pointed out directly, had rarely put them into words.
It had become a misunderstanding far too great for either of them to resolve alone:
A young, innocent elf who never once imagined that the Demon of Vyrantium could possibly hold romantic feelings for her—
and a true assassin who had hidden far too much passion beneath his calm exterior.
Lucanis quietly left the room.
For now, he had to focus.
The matter of Zara Renata had to be dealt with first.
Focus. Focus—
He repeated it to himself endlessly.
And yet, his hand moved restlessly, opening and closing again and again, as though desperately trying to remember the warmth and smallness of her hand in his.