Ryuu had given them most of the information about Bautix’s crimes last night, and he nearly said Kohl’s name—but then he’d looked at her and she’d shaken her head. There was no point putting any kind of arrest warrant on Kohl. If he were in prison, he would simply break out again. She also preferred to handle her problems herself. Kohl’s murder of her parents, and how he’d tricked her since she was a child, were problems she wanted to punish him for. She couldn’t let the Sentinel do that for her.

After finishing her tea, Aina left Teo’s apartment. She stood at the doorway for a moment, shielding her eyes against the bright sun. Teo was walking toward the apartment with a stack of folded-up boxes under his arm.

She stepped out and then leaned against the wall in the alley between his apartment and the next as he walked up to her. They’d moved into the shade, but the sun still sent a streak of light across the other side of the alley. Voices from the main street and from Lyra Avenue a few blocks away managed to reach them here.

“Are you going to meet Tannis?” he asked, leaning on the wall next to her, their shoulders nearly touching as he did. When she nodded, he asked, “How are you holding up, after everything that happened with Kohl?”

After a pause, Aina let out a heavy sigh. Thinking about Kohl was a headache, but she’d have to deal with him soon.

“I’m glad I know the truth. And I’m looking forward to what Tannis and I will do. But it still feels like”—she paused again, her eyes flicking to the shadowed reaches of the alley—“every corner I look at, he’ll be there waiting for me. Either to save me or kill me.”

“You don’t need him to save you.”

“I know that,” she said quickly, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for always telling me that, even if it took me a while to realize. But I’ve only ever known him as someone who saves me and hurts me at the same time. Someone I tried so hard to please. The man who killed my parents. How can I forgive myself for that?”

Teo turned to his side to face her, one of his shoulders still leaning on the wall. His eyes looked darker without the glint of the sun on them, umber instead of copper, but no less warm. He was tall enough that if she tilted her head to the side a few inches, her head would be resting on his shoulder.

“You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know,” he said. “It makes sense why it took you a long time to see that he wasn’t good for you. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things or can’t recognize them when they come. You’ll find someone who treats you the right way, and you’ll deserve it.”

His voice drifted off near the end. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as he spoke. Averting her gaze, she scuffed her boots on the pavement, trying to think of something to say.