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He no longer knew whether hours, days or weeks had passed, nor did he care in the slightest. Lucien couldn’t help but let out a sad laugh as he realised that the only thing he knew for certain was that this bloody nightmare was completely real; Dante’s corpse was confirmation more than enough.
Fuck.
His mind kept going round in circles, thinking about how he could have prevented it, about all the warning signs right in front of him that he’d failed to spot. But it was his Talon – the man who’d always been his brother in spirit – who’d stopped him coming along.
“We’ll all go without bodyguards – it’ll just be us, the First, and the bare minimum of staff. Don’t worry so much, will you? Besides, this way I’ll get to see Andarateia again.” He’d winked at him. Lucien knew how important that woman had been for him, and although he didn’t know her that well, she was someone Dante trusted. “See you in a few days.”
Those had been his last words.
Everything that happened afterwards swirled through his mind in complete disarray. First came the news that a traitor had murdered all the Talons; then there was talk of survivors, but no one knew who they were. There was not a single deity to whom Lucien had not prayed during those days, but if he had a shred of faith left, it vanished forever when he learnt that Dante Balazar’s body was on its way to its final resting place, where his ashes would rest with the rest of his House, as was only right. It was he who received the carriage bearing the remains, who kept vigil over them for a day and a night without allowing anyone to take his place. It was also to him that everyone turned, seeking answers about the fate of his House—answers that Lucien did not know and had not the slightest interest in finding out.
He remembered leaving the quarters like a ghost, under the astonished – and somewhat indignant – gaze of the Grand Masters. Everyone knew that the position of Talon belonged to him and no one else, both by his predecessor’s own wish and on his own merits. He had spent his entire life preparing for that moment, even though he himself had not wanted it, but the day had come whether he liked it or not. Lucien looked at his reflection in the faded glass of one of the windows, thinking that it was nothing more than an illusion, that everyone saw in him something that literally did not exist. That Dante had deceived himself, and had deceived them all into believing it.
Whatever is happening out there? Could there be a war of succession in the Second House of the Crows? Perhaps the rival Talons will send someone to eliminate him – that would only be fair, someone to punish him for his failures – but there are few candidates. The First Talon would have no reason whatsoever, and surely Andarateia would not do such a thing either, if only out of respect for the memory of a former love. There is only one viable option left, if that is indeed the case. Lucien is aware of Viago De Riva’s ambitions, but he seems more inclined to seize the crown than to rise through the ranks of the Crows. In any case, that doesn’t matter anymore.
That is why he does not react as he ought to when he realises he is not alone in the room; but he takes his favourite spot on the sofa, in front of the fireplace, turning it slightly towards where he senses the intruder is. The visitor has not used magic to enter, though the faintest traces on their body have been enough for Lucien to notice their presence.
“Well?” he asks aloud into the void. “There’s no point in you staying hidden if I know you’re here.”
A woman with dark hair and violet eyes steps out of the shadows behind him, in complete silence, and looks at the man for a moment before speaking. “Someone once told me that spiders are more terrifying when you know they’re nearby, but you can’t see where they are.” Her voice, soft, is neither threatening nor aggressive.
“Good memory, even if it’s just for remembering a fool’s advice,” Lucien smiles to himself and lowers his head, sighing, before turning towards her. “I’m surprised to see you here, Alecto, and if you’ve come to accept that offer I made you some time ago… right now I’m in no position to guarantee you anything.”
“I haven’t changed my mind on that matter, to answer your question.” “Alecto mirrors his own sad smile and takes a seat in the armchair opposite him. ‘News travels fast,’ she says, without taking her eyes off the elf’s. ‘And bad news even faster.’
‘So why have you come, then? You’re taking a huge risk just by being here, Sombra,’ Lucien asks, with genuine interest. It doesn’t escape him that she is still a De Riva, the closest person to the man who is possibly his worst enemy now – assuming, that is, that it is true that Emil Kortez was responsible for the extermination of so many illustrious figures. “Or have you come looking for some way to redeem you in the eyes of your own people?”
The remark is hurtful, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. As Alecto quite rightly pointed out, news travels fast in Antiva, and Lucien knows she narrowly escaped execution. In fact, it was only her Talon’s swift banishment—without any honour—that had spared her and, from what he’d been told, the woman had vanished from the country as if she’d never existed.
“‘My people,’ you say.” Now it is she who lets out a sardonic laugh. “My people can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. This whole massacre amongst the Crows is nothing more than the consequence of their own actions—or rather, their lack of them.” Despite her words, there is genuine pain in her voice, so much so that Lucien momentarily forgets his own. He leans forward to take one of her hands in his, and Alecto’s purple gaze seems to relax a little. “No, Lucien, the only reason I’m here is because when someone’s really screwed up, that’s when they make shitty decisions. And I speak from experience,” she adds, winking at him. Despite everything that’s happened and the time they’ve spent without hearing from each other, their friendship and bond remain intact. “Maybe—I don’t know—you could do with someone to talk to.”
Lucien stands up without letting go of her hand – causing her to rise from her seat too – and puts an arm round her shoulder. “Believe me, I would appreciate it. Although you didn’t need to risk your life.”
She rests her head on his shoulder. “Meh. I’ve told you before, making shitty decisions is my speciality, honey, not yours. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened, I really am. You don’t deserve this.”
Lucien pulls her close. “And I feel the same about what’s happened to you.” He kisses her temple, just above her hairline, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he can tell she’s smiling. Alecto lifts her head and for a moment their eyes meet, making the atmosphere between them grow heavy, but it’s just a mirage.
“Don’t give me that look, De Riva. However fond a memory you have of me, we both know that any romance between us would be a lie.”
“But a lovely lie, you have to admit,” she replies playfully, touching the tip of his nose with her index finger. Lucien’s laughter is genuine for the first time in days. “Of course, you could say I was so awful that I put you off ever wanting to get close to a woman in that way again.”
There’s more to Alecto’s words than meets the eye, however much humour she puts into them. What bound her to Viago was more than just a working relationship, and it wasn’t just the exile that had wounded her to the core. She, too, needs someone to unburden herself to.
“Well, we can discuss that,” jokes Lucien, kissing her on the cheek as he would a sister. “Come on, we’ve got plenty to talk about. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything. Who knows, there might still be hope that one of us will keep our sanity.”
They may belong to rival houses, they may be two completely different souls, but one thing is clear: there’s no one in the world whose advice they trust as much as each other’s.