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The celebration at the Cantori Diamond rang through the night—laughter echoing throughout the attic, music weaving between conversations about impossible victories and how the Crows helped defeat gods.
Lucanis nursed his wine, watching Rook argue with an increasingly exasperated Viago.
"What do you mean you converted it to poison storage?" Rook's voice carried over the music, incredulous and sharp.
"You were gone for well over a year." Viago didn't even look apologetic. "Prime real estate in the Diamond doesn't stay vacant."
"It was my room!"
"Was being the operative word." Viago sipped his wine with infuriating calm. "Besides, the ventilation in that suite is perfect for volatile compounds."
Rook guffawed at that. "You're impossible. Fine. I'll take one of the empty quarters on the third floor."
"Also poison storage."
Lucanis watched Rook's hands curl into fists, then slowly relax. "You're doing this on purpose."
"I have no idea what you mean." Viago's mouth twitched. "Though if you're looking for accommodations, I hear there are several lovely boarding houses in the Drowned District. Reasonable rates. Only mild rat problems."
"I saved the world!"
"And we're all very grateful. The rats, however, remain unmoved by your heroics."
Now would probably be a good time to intervene. Lucanis cleared his throat. Both of them turned, Rook's irritation softening into something warmer when she saw him. The words sat right there—move in with me. Such a simple phrase, yet it felt monumental.
"Lucanis." Viago's eyes held a particularly sinister glint. "Perhaps you have thoughts on Rook's housing situation?"
The Fifth Talon was enjoying this entirely too much. Drawn by Lucanis's sudden spike of anxiety, Spite began to stir.
"Tell her. Tell her now."
But Rook had already turned back to Viago, missing the moment entirely. "Lucanis hasn't anything to do with this. I'll go see what Teia has to say."
She swept from the attic, spine rigid with indignation, those lavender eyes blazing.
Lucanis stood frozen, words catching in his throat. His apartment—their sanctuary during those stolen nights—had always been his alone. A place where he didn't have to perform, didn't have to be the Demon of Vyrantium or Caterina's heir or anyone but himself.
But having watched Rook argue with Viago, fierce and stubborn and magnificently alive after everything they'd survived, he couldn't imagine those rooms without her. The kitchen where she'd perched on his counter, stealing bites of whatever he cooked. The bedroom where she'd traced the scars across his torso with reverent fingers. Even the bathroom, where she'd bathe and exit wearing one of his shirts, looking so perfectly his that it made him ache.
"Well." Viago swirled his wine, interrupting Lucanis's thoughts. "That went about as expected."
Lucanis didn't speak, the confession still lodged behind his teeth
"You know," the Fifth Talon continued, "I always thought she was the idiot between you two. Reckless, impulsive, prone to charging into situations without thinking." He took a delicate sip. "But watching you stand there with your mouth shut while she complained about needing a place to stay..."
Viago might as well have drawn him a map.
"Perhaps I've been giving you too much credit."
Lucanis stared Viago down, wishing looks could actually kill. "It's complicated."
"Is it?" Viago's mustache twitched again. "You have an apartment. She needs a place to stay. The solution seems simple enough."
"We've only been—" Lucanis stopped, unsure what exactly was stopping him from asking. Everything they'd been through together, yet this step felt like a leap off a cliff.
"Ah, yes, the famous Dellamorte restraint." Viago set his empty glass on a passing servant's tray and began walking away. "How's that working out for you?"
Later that night, as Lucanis lay with one arm tucked around a sleeping Rook, Viago's words echoed in his mind. He needed a plan. Something better than blurting it out like an amateur. Rook deserved... what? Romance? They'd already had that—dancing in moonlight, stolen kisses in the shadows. Practicality? She'd laugh at him for overthinking something so simple.
Maybe simple was what they needed. No grand gestures, no elaborate schemes. Just truth.
Tomorrow, he decided. After the hangover of tonight's celebration faded. He'd buy her cioccolata calda from that bakery she adored, the one with the too-sweet pastries and the elderly owner who called her piccola stella.
And he'd ask her. Simply, honestly. To make the apartment theirs instead of his. To stop pretending they weren't already building something worth protecting.
The morning sun painted the patio outside the bakery in shades of gold and amber. Rook sat across from him, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten maritozzo, her dark curls gleaming wine-red where the sunlight touched them, powdered sugar dusting her fingers.
"—and then Teia suggested I bunk with the fledglings. The fledglings, Lucanis! As if I'm some fresh-faced recruit who doesn't know which end of a blade goes in first." She tore off another piece of pastry with unnecessary violence. "Thirty-one years old, helped defeat two ancient elven gods, and she wants me sleeping in the barracks."
Lucanis wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, gathering courage from its warmth. The elderly owner, Signora Salerno, shuffled past their table, patting Rook's shoulder sympathetically.
"Such troubles for our piccola stella," she tutted. "In my day, a nice young man would have ensured such a fine woman had adequate housing." Her eyes flicked to the maritozzo in Rook's hand before settling on Lucanis with a look sharp enough to draw blood.
Rook waved her off with a laugh. "Don't mind her. She's been trying to marry me off since I was young and stealing pastries from her back counter."
"You still steal pastries from her back counter."
"Not today, at least, since you so kindly chose the pastries." She licked sugar from her thumb, and Lucanis's concentration briefly scattered. "Anyway, I suppose I could check the merchant district, but everything there is either too large or too expensive or—"
"I have an apartment."
The words tumbled from him without his usual grace, cutting through her complaints. Rook paused mid-gesture, maritozzo suspended in air.
"Yes, I know." Color touched her cheeks. "We were just there."
"You could..." His throat felt lined with sandpaper. "That is, if you wanted—"
She tilted her head, not following. Lucanis set down his coffee cup and drew a breath.
"For so long, I only thought of people as family, enemies, and contracts." The words came easier once he started. "Everything fit into neat categories. Clean lines, clear boundaries. Then you arrived and destroyed all of it. You were supposed to be a colleague, maybe a friend if I was lucky. Instead, you became—"
Rook's maritozzo hit the table, one hand flying to her mouth. Lucanis followed her gaze to the fallen pastry, confusion flickering before her expression drew his attention back.
"—everything. My mornings start with wondering if you've eaten. My nights end with making sure you're safe. Spite talks about you constantly, and normally, his obsessions drive me mad, but not when it's you. My apartment already feels more like a home with you there. Your perfume lingers on the sheets, your hair brush is on my nightstand, and I can't make coffee anymore without making it the way you like it, with too much sugar and I was wondering, will—"
A sharp gasp cut him off. Her eyes had gone impossibly wide, lavender bright with what looked like panic.
"—you move in with me?" he finished the question, the words rushing out before he could lose his nerve. "Officially. Permanently. Whatever you want to call it."
Silence stretched between them for one heartbeat. Two.
Then Rook burst into laughter. Not quiet chuckles or nervous giggles, but full-bodied, hysterical cackling that had other patrons turning to stare. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face.
Lucanis sat frozen, mortification creeping up his spine. "I don't understand what's—"
"I thought—" She gasped between laughs. "Your speech! The dramatic declaration! I thought you were about to propose!"
Heat flooded his face. "I—what?"
"'You became everything!'" She mimicked his serious tone, still giggling. "Maker, I was calculating how fast I could say yes without seeming desperate."
"So... is that a no to the apartment?"
"What? No! I mean, yes! I mean—" She wiped her eyes, residual laughter still shaking her shoulders. "Yes, I'll move in with you, you ridiculous man."
Relief and joy collided in his chest. Lucanis stood, rounding the table to pull her up and into his arms, tasting powdered sugar and promise when his lips met hers. Her laughter finally subsided, turning softer and sweeter as she melted into the kiss.
"Though just so we're clear,"he murmured against her mouth, one hand wrapped in her curls, "when I do propose, you'll know. There won't be any confusion."
"Promise?"
"I swear."