The wind gusted hard then, chilling Aina along with Tannis’s words.

“I’ve never betrayed Kohl,” she lied through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid.”

The next day, Aina waited for Teo in the Center, leaning against the grimy wall of a shoe repair shop and trying not to fall asleep while standing. After the overnight watch with Tannis, she’d slept until midmorning, then spent the afternoon spying on Kouta.

For the past few hours, she’d sat in the balcony of a bookshop while he read on the downstairs floor, and tried not to pass out from boredom while waiting for him to do something interesting. His guards had sat near him or wandered around the shelves, and she wondered if they were growing as weary as she was.

Luckily, the brisk wind and the noise from the train station a block away kept her awake. Train whistles blared and people’s suitcases banged along the sidewalk as they rushed to the station. Dusk was a velvety blue smear on the sky littered with streams of smoke. The few visible stars painted a revealing silver on the statue in the square ahead, making it even more macabre. It figured King Verrain, his face stretched in agony, a sword buried to the hilt in his back with its tip splintering out of his marble chest.

“Solís.”

She turned to face Teo, who stood at the corner in a dark jacket with his hands tucked in the pockets—either to stay warm, or to hold the handle of a gun, she wasn’t sure. The reddish-gold rays of the sun lit his face a soft amber color.

“Good morning,” she said.

“The sun is setting.”

With a shrug, she led the way to the next stage of their job. They weaved through soot-covered, dejected factory workers getting off their shifts, and soon reached an alley that emptied onto the entertainment district’s main road, Lyra Avenue. Casinos, bars, and burlesque theaters were lined up on all sides, so locals and tourists would never run out of things to do.

Shouts and laughter in different languages flooded down to the street. Most immigrants in Kosín kept to small communities, like La Cumbre, where Aina’s parents had raised her alongside other immigrants from Mil Cimas; the Linasian neighborhood near the river where Teo lived; and the Kaiyanis, Natsudan, and Marinian neighborhoods in the southeast. But Lyra Avenue housed people from everywhere. Apartments for immigrant workers were on the second floor of each building, packed with people who’d come to Kosín for jobs before the war and had gotten sucked into the fighting during it. Living close to the Stacks, most of them had fallen into poverty along with the Inosen, but some had found stability by starting small businesses along Lyra Avenue.

“Sorry I couldn’t help earlier,” Teo said loudly over the music issuing from a casino. “I needed to take my mother to the clinic for an appointment. How was our friend today?”

“So boring!” Aina said, as a strong gust of wind whipped her black hair in front of her face “All he’s done is read. I think he’s read more books than people I’ve killed. Shouldn’t rich people be more interesting to spy on?” She stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on here?”