Lucanis leaned against the railing of the watchtower atop the east wing of the estate, eyes scanning the streets below. The city still hadn't fully calmed after the smoke and birds. People whispered behind hands, taverns buzzed with theories, and the Crows… well, the Crows were scrambling.
And he was part of that scramble now, pulled into task forces and strategy sessions, organising sweeps, pulling old contacts, and tightening leashes. Some of the houses still hadn't been fully aired out. Black lotus clung to the walls and fabric like a curse.
Lucanis cut through the narrow alleyways behind the fish market, aiming for a supplier they suspected had sold magical components to the saboteurs.
He spotted her before she noticed him. She was leaning against the narrow stone pillar near the broken sundial, staring idly at the plumes of smoke that still hadn't dissipated entirely. Lucanis changed directions, coming to stand beside her and following her gaze.
Evie turned her head, and her expression flickered from unreadable to wry the moment she saw him.
"Where's Nonna?" She asked, sweet and mocking all at once.
Lucanis gave a small, sheepish smile.
"Shame on you, siccing your grandmother on me," she mumbled.
"I didn't. She asked," he said. "And… she's my nonna. You don't say no to Caterina Dellamorte when she wants something."
The look on Evie's face was a blend of amusement and suspicion before she dropped it, returning her gaze to the smoke.
"She wasn't so bad," Evie said. "Like a friendly knife."
Lucanis let out a puff of laughter. Friendly was perhaps too generous.
"Do you really have a mabari?" He asked.
He preferred cats, self-contained, quiet, low-maintenance. Mabari were noble, loyal, powerful. Fine dogs, but loud. Messy. But if she had one, he'd accept it. He'd make peace with muddy pawprints and chewed-up boots. For her.
"I used to. Sort of," a sad smile crossed her face. "He was my father's, already kind of old when I was born. He died when I was nine."
"I'm sorry," he said, unable to figure out if the sadness was for the dog or the father she must miss dearly. "What was his name?"
"Dog," she answered wryly. "He tried other names; Dog was just the only one he'd respond to."
Lucanis chuckled. "Stubborn."
"Very," she said, still with that faint smile. "He once bit a man who raised his voice at my father. He wasn't sorry."
"I wouldn't be either."
Evie looked down, scuffing her boot lightly along the edge of a worn flagstone. "He used to sleep on my bed. My nurse hated it; he smelled like wet wool and rolled in dead things, but he'd growl if anyone got too close."
"So naturally, you adored him."
"I did." Her voice was soft, almost fond.
Lucanis tried to imagine her, much younger, curled up next to some grizzled Fereldan warhound, feet tucked in beside his great burly body. It didn't take much effort.
"I think I'm lucky," he said after a beat.
Evie glanced up at him. "For?"
"Meeting you after Dog," he said, dry. "He might not have approved."
Her smile faded, and she looked at him pityingly, dry, and vaguely apologetic. "I don't think you're very lucky to have met me at all."
His brows drew together. He didn't want to get into an argument with her, and he doubted there was anything he could say that would change her mind given how she arrived at that conclusion. But he also wasn't going to let her sit in it.
So, he said mildly, "I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong, then."
That startled a breath of air from her, almost a laugh. She looked up at him. "Is that a challenge?"
"Maker, I hope so," Lucanis said with mock solemnity. "Otherwise I'd be wasting a perfectly dramatic line."
A real smile ghosted across her lips, small and crooked and reluctant. But it was there. Lucanis held onto that smile like it meant something. Because it did.
"Besides," he added, tone lighter now, "I'd argue fate doesn't usually hand out soulmates to people it wants to punish."
This time she did laugh. "What are you basing that on?"
He tilted his head, mock-considering. "Mostly? Blind optimism. A little arrogance."
"And here I thought you were so grounded."
"Oh, I am. Exceptionally. Just not when it comes to you."
Evie rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. "You don't even know me."
Lucanis raised a brow. "That's an excuse, not a counterpoint."
She glanced away at that, arms loosely crossed, the motion defensive in a way he didn't think she realised. He let the silence stretch a moment, not pressing her to speak, but not backing off either.
"So," she finally said, gesturing to the smoke. "What's going on here then?"
"That was the worst change in subject I've ever heard. But I'll allow it," he said with a roll of his eyes.
"Generous," she murmured.
"Just one of the many wonderful things about me." He turned his eyes to the smoke. "It's just... someone who takes issue with us."
She grinned then. "Maker forbid, someone who takes issue with a guild of assassins, spies, and thieves? Madness."
Lucanis huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "I know. We're famously beloved."
"I heard Antivan children leave out wine and lemon cakes on Satinalia in your honour."
"And if they don't, we send Illario to sing at their windows until they do."
Evie snorted. "Cruel."
"Effective." He hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, "We're still sorting out the damage, but it's coordinated. Precise. Whoever's doing it… they know us."
Evie's expression didn't change much, but he didn't miss the flicker in her eyes. Sympathy, maybe. It made his chest tighten for reasons he didn't want to examine.
"I'm sorry," she said, quiet and sincere.
He studied her for a long moment, like if he looked hard enough he'd see whatever it was she wasn't saying. But all he found was her. Evie, stubborn and just out of reach.
"I should go," she said.
Lucanis nodded, though he hated the way the space between them immediately felt colder. "You'll be careful?"
It was a fear he'd never spoken aloud. That his enemies would find her, learn her significance to him.
"Not sure I'm the one who needs to be," she replied, mild amusement as her eyes indicated the plume of smoke.
She was a picture of casual indifference, but he knew her well enough now to see the careful, deliberate distance she maintained. Always one step away from him. Always guarding something. Still, he couldn't let her go without saying something. Without trying, even in a small way, to hold on.
"Evie," he said, and when she glanced back, he added, "If you ever need anything… anything at all…"
The words hung there, unfinished but understood. Her smile then was soft and devastating. The kind of smile someone gave when they knew they could never ask for what was offered.
"I know," she said, turning away. "And tell your nonna if she wants to ambush me again, she should bring me a pastry. One of those little chocolate ones from the bakery near Cafe Pietra." She called back as she walked away.
"Would that work?" He called after her.
"Absolutely." She gave a little wave without looking back.
Lucanis watched her for a moment until she disappeared around the corner. Lucanis stood there a moment longer, watching the place where she'd vanished, feeling the soulbond hum just beneath his skin. Still tethered. Still waiting.
Still hers...