Lucanis didn't need to ask twice. The bathhouse staff were quick to point them in the right direction. A few discreet questions at the Crow Hall had told him all he needed - Starling had gone to the bathhouse not long after dragging herself in from the mess. Sensible choice, really. Necessary, if last night's performance had left her feeling half as boneless as she'd looked when she'd fallen asleep.
He could see why she might need it.
They walked into the building with quiet purpose, Viago half a step behind him, already shrugging off his outer layer as they turned left instead of right. The woman at the desk saw them, opened her mouth then thought better of it when she recognised who exactly had just walked through the door.
Smart woman.
They stripped quickly in the changing room, neither of them bothering with modesty. Just towels, slung low around their hips. The air in the baths was dense with heat and lavender oil, the kind that clung to skin and settled into clothes. Lucanis barely registered the other women inside, lounging in the water or sprawled across stone. Viago gave one look, one subtle flick of his brow and a nod toward the door. The remaining bathers drifted out without complaint, no doubt startled by the reputation that walked in with them.
By the time Lucanis turned his gaze to the far pool, the steam had parted just enough to reveal her.
Starling.
Head tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted slightly in the steam. She was sunk as deep as she could get without drowning, her chin just above the surface, her hair curling damply against the sides of her face. She looked… peaceful. More unguarded than they'd ever seen her.
It sent something sharp through his chest. Irritating, how that feeling kept returning.
He let his towel drop and stepped into the water. She didn't stir at first, then her eyes flew open. A flicker of confusion wrinkled her brow, just for a heartbeat, until she tracked his movement. Then Viago dropped his towel too, and she sat up, scanning the room quickly. No witnesses. No cover.
Yes. They'd made sure of that.
"Good morning, little bird," Viago said, smooth as always, sinking into the water beside her.
Lucanis moved to the other side. She tensed between them for half a breath, then forced her body to relax again. Good girl.
"You left rather early," Lucanis said, his tone mild, like he was asking about the weather.
She arched a brow. "Things to do. People to see." Then, more dryly, "And I wouldn't want to wear out my welcome."
Lucanis met her gaze. Sharp, a little amused, a little testing. He let the silence draw for just a moment before answering.
"Funny," he murmured. "We were beginning to worry we'd overstayed ours."
Starling's brow furrowed in that particular way of hers - thoughtful, wry, a little sharp around the edges. "It's your house," she said, lips twitching. "I don't think you can overstay in your own house."
Lucanis turned his head, giving her a slow, sidelong look.
Not the house, girl.
And she saw it. You could watch her clock the shift. That flash of realisation chased quickly across her features like sunlight catching water. Then came the small huff of air, nose scrunching faintly with dry amusement.
"Right. Just got it."
She studied them, head tipping slightly, something calculating behind the pale brightness of her eyes. The way she weighed words before letting them free.
"So… not done with me yet?"
Lucanis didn't hesitate. "Not even close."
Viago tilted his head, as if genuinely surprised. "Is that what you thought?"
She shrugged, the movement subtle beneath the water, more a tilt of the shoulders than a gesture. "Last night was different… Food and… everything."
Viago clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing slightly with the same playful disdain he sometimes used when interrogating foolish merchants. "None of your other lovers have ever fed you?"
Her mouth curved. "Don't make it sound like I have a museum of them."
Lucanis snorted, low and dry. "If you do, I hope we're given a prominent display."
Viago leaned in a little, water lapping quietly around them. "A private wing, at least."
Her eyes rolled faintly, but there was colour in her cheeks now. Not blush, not embarrassment. Just heat. From the water. From them.
Lucanis studied her, his voice going quieter. "Last night wasn't a farewell."
Starling didn't respond immediately. Her gaze flicked between them again, that softness underneath all the steel still holding strong, still buried but there. He admired that. Envied it, maybe.
He dipped his fingers in the water again, letting them trace through the surface. "You're tired. We know that. But don't mistake indulgence for goodbye."
He turned slightly to face her more fully. "You keep running," he said mildly, "but you haven't tried very hard to make us stop calling you back."
She looked at him for a long beat. Then she smiled. Not wide. Just that same, sly, sideways tilt that always made it worse for him.
"You think I'm running?" she asked, genuinely - genuinely - surprised by it.
Lucanis just stared at her. That was almost worse than if she'd lied.
He cocked his head slightly. "What do you call slinking out in the early hours while we sleep?"
"Considerate," she said, deadpan.
Lucanis barked a low laugh before he could stop it, sharp and brief like a knife flicked open. Maker, she was insufferable. And clever. And impossible. And apparently unaware of how they were both beginning to orbit her like gravity was a thing she carried in her bones.
Viago made a noise of amusement beside her, more of a soft scoff than a laugh. "You know," he said, voice thoughtful as he turned to study her with that half-lidded gaze of his, "that's probably the first time someone's called vanishing without a word 'thoughtful."
"It is," Starling insisted, lightly. "Didn't want to disturb your rest. You both seemed… very tired."
Lucanis arched a brow. "You say that like it's an accomplishment."
"Isn't it?" she asked, tipping her chin up just a little. The corner of her mouth quirked again. "I'm very good."
Maker save them both.
Viago grinned. "Well. You're not wrong."
Lucanis leaned back a little against the warm curve of the bath, studying her in profile. "You're not just good, little bird. That's the problem."
She glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. But she didn't ask. Of course she didn't. She kept her words close to her chest the same way she kept everything else.
Did she really not see it? Did she truly not know that every time she crept away, they wanted her more?
Lucanis let his gaze linger a beat longer, then said, very mildly, "Next time, don't be considerate."She raised a brow at that, a soft puff of amusement leaving her nose.
"I also have a day to be getting on with. Missions, training, copious amounts of tansy tea…"
That last bit came with a very pointed look.
Ah. So. She was taking care of it.
"Responsible," Viago murmured approvingly beside her, but Lucanis caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Starling didn't call them on it. She just blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded, mouth tilting in that vague smirk she offered when she knew more than she said.
Still mostly submerged, just a head above the water, steam curling lazily around her cheekbones, she looked more myth than woman. Dangerous, soft-edged, glinting under the surface.
Lucanis watched her for a beat longer, then said flatly, "You'll be needing more tea. We'll be sure to send you some."
That earned him a flat look. Then a sigh. Then he kissed her.
Not a gentle brush, not a lingering whisper of mouth on mouth. He took her lips like he always did, uninvited, certain she'd follow. And she did. That was the worst part, wasn't it?
Viago watched her fingers slide into Lucanis's hair, watched the way she tipped up to deepen the kiss, water lapping around her collarbones like the bath itself was holding its breath.
When she gasped - half breath, half need - it was Viago's cue.
He moved through the water, lithe as ever, positioning himself on the warm stone rim of the tub, sitting back just enough to guide her with a hand beneath her chin. The moment her lips parted for him, he let out a low, guttural sound and buried his hands in her hair.
Maker, she felt like silk. Pure spun sunlight between his fingers and heat between his thighs.
Lucanis moved behind her, sliding into the space she left, and Starling, his perfect little bird, shuddered between them.
Viago kept a hand tangled in her hair, the other trailing the line of her jaw, watching her fall apart slowly and thoroughly. Exactly how he liked her.
And in the slow press of hips and mouths and low, half-laughed moans, he realised he hadn't thought about anyone else in weeks.
He wasn't sure he could anymore. Lucanis and Starling - they might have been it for him.
Viago's breath came low and ragged, propped on one hand, head tipping back as her mouth worked him with that lithe, magical tongue of hers. Her moans vibrated through him, fuelled by Lucanis's ruthless rhythm behind her, and each one nearly undid him.
Maker, she was gifted.
His free hand threaded tighter into her golden hair, slick with steam, guiding - not forcing - but oh, guiding. She let him, of course she did. She always did, always knew just how far to take it.
Movement at the far end of the hall caught Viago's eye. Two women, towels in hand, had just stepped through the entrance.
Crows, both of them. He recognised their faces but didn't care to recall their names.
His head didn't lift. He just turned his eyes toward them and glared.
They froze. One of them blinked. The other caught her breath. And then, like well-trained hounds, they turned and slipped right back out.
Viago returned his gaze to the beauty on her knees. Priorities.
His eyes traced the arch of her back, gliding from the dip of her spine to where Lucanis held her hips in a bruising grip, driving into her with a hunger Viago felt. The slap of skin, the water lapping over the rim, the sound of her moans - it was decadent, addictive, and theirs.
He could feel it coming, the crest just behind his teeth, in the tightening heat at the base of his spine.
"Swallow it, tesoro," he growled.
And she did. All of it. Every last drop, like she wanted to.
He let out a broken sigh, hips twitching once more. "Good girl…"
His hands remained in her hair even after she stilled, even after Lucanis finished behind her, biting down a groan like it cost him something to let it out.
Viago saw the way her fingers clenched over his thighs, the flush rising on her cheeks and throat, the dazed, breathless little thing she became when they wrung her out just right.
Lucanis slid out, gentle now, the edge having passed, and together they guided her to settle between them again. Viago slid back into the water beside her, his arm curling across her shoulders without thought.
Her head dropped onto his chest. Lucanis shifted closer.
And for a long stretch, there was only steam, the lull of water, and the low pull of breath as all three of them tried to calm the storm they'd conjured.
Viago looked down at her, wet lashes, damp cheeks, kiss-bruised lips.
She was tired. They were tired given last night as well. But he already wanted her again.
Lucanis met his gaze across her body, something dangerous and dark flickering between them.
Viago watched her brow knit, the faintest wrinkle between her brows as her gaze flicked toward the door. Not their usual coyness or smirk, not the sleepy post-bliss lassitude he so loved in her. No, this was tactical.
She was planning an escape. Again.
Maker, she really didn't want to be seen with them, did she?
He was about to ask when Lucanis beat him to it.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
"How to get out of here without being seen," she replied absently, as if her mind had already moved several steps ahead.
Viago quirked a brow. She rose, water sliding in rivulets down her pale skin, still flushed in places they'd made blush. She looked gloriously debauched and entirely unbothered by it.
"All right," she said breezily, grabbing for her towel. "I have to go. This was neat, thanks."
Neat. Viago blinked. Neat.
Lucanis grabbed her ankle, less possessive than amused. "What's so urgent?"
She looked down at him like he was the one being ridiculous. "I have an appointment this afternoon."
"What appointment?" Viago asked, watching her wrap the towel around herself with efficient dignity. Still dripping wet, still marked up from them, and somehow still managing to look untouchable.
She gave him a look. "Rude. I don't pry into your business."
Lucanis let her go, though Viago noted the little flicker in his jaw that meant he was suppressing something - irritation, maybe. Disappointment, definitely.
"Bye," she chirped, like she hadn't just left them both still aching for more.
And then she went. Not through the front, not through the changing hall. No. She opened the trapdoor to the boiler passage. The boiler passage. A corridor of sweating stone, heat and soot, used mostly by staff to dump buckets or fetch more fuel. Viago stared at the trapdoor after it thunked shut. He and Lucanis sat there in silence for a beat, steam curling around them.
"That's… offensive," Viago said at last, dry as sun-cracked bone.
Lucanis didn't answer. Viago glanced sideways. Lucanis's expression was unreadable - half thoughtful, half something darker. Something that curled hot in the pit of Viago's stomach.
They'd fed her, marked her, curled her between them like something precious and pliant and she'd still chosen the boiler crawlspace over being seen leaving with them.
She wanted to keep this quiet. Desperately. She thought this still had an end.
Viago leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and exhaled slowly. "All right then," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Guess we'll just have to make it harder for her to leave next time."
Lucanis hummed in agreement. But Viago knew that hum. It wasn't casual; it was strategy.
And if Starling thought she'd get to slip away forever… well, she'd vastly underestimated what a pair of obsessives could do with time, patience, and motive.