I felt hollow. There was a sudden emptiness within me that seemed to keep growing. It had edges, sharp enough to cut. But I couldn’t explain that. I couldn’t tell him how it had felt, that morning when I had done my final reading for Gideon. To look into the blank card and see Verrick’s face. How hard I’d been trying to forget.

Eventually, I just repeated: “I couldn’t say anything.”

His jaw tightened. “No. You chose not to say anything.”

“I told you why.”

“Because the elders would have killed him. Which is exactly what needed to happen.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Leon continued before I had the chance.

“The last time he was loose, he started a Harrowing,” he said. “He threw the Kin into chaos. He slaughtered his way through the Cities. You knew who he was. You knew he was a threat. And you chose to protect him.”

My temper flared. “Of course I chose to protect him! I couldn’t even kill a Harrower. You think I’d let the Kin kill my best friend?”

“What about all the people he’s going to kill?”

His words knifed into me. I froze. My stomach plummeted. I looked away from him, keeping my focus on anything but his face: the afternoon light that lingered on the walls, Gram’s garage-sale coffee table, the worn carpet that needed replacing, the space between us. “You don’t know that will happen,” I whispered.

“What else do you think is going to happen? He was unsealed for maybe an hour before he went straight for a Guardian. Camille survived—but what about the next person he attacks? And the next? He’s not going to stop until we stop him. Every person he hurts—that’s your choice.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

I felt heat on my face. Anger bubbled up once more, but anger was better than guilt. I didn’t even try to contain it. “I thought it would be okay!” I railed. “I thought he would be okay. I just wanted things to be normal. He’s not just Verrick anymore. I thought if no one found out, he’d just be able to live his life. As a human. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want to be a Harrower. He wanted to be Kin. That’s why he was trying to do all along—to become Kin.”

“You think his intentions matter? That it somehow absolves him?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Leon’s voice was hard. “You’re saying he should get what he wants.”

“Gideon should. Gideon is innocent.”

“You can’t just erase who he is. What he did. Do you even know?” he demanded. I wouldn’t have needed a Knowing to read the fury that blazed all around him. His face was taut. I could see his fingers digging into his palms. “Twelve,” he said. “That’s the number of Guardians he killed. Eighteen. The number of Kin. Should I name them for you? I can give you two off the top of my head. Do you think they wanted to die?” He turned and stalked out of the room.

“Leon,” I said. I chased after him, catching his arm. “Wait.”

He jerked out of my grip. “Don’t.”

“Just listen to me, please,” I said. “You don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand. He killed my parents, Audrey. Do you get that? He killed my parents.” He backed away from me, into the arch of the doorway, and this time I didn’t follow.

“I know. But—”

“No. You don’t get to talk right now. He killed my parents, and you knew it, and you still chose to protect him.”

“And you want revenge, is that it? Why do you even care? You told me you hated your parents!”

I knew as soon as I spoke that it was the worst thing I could have possibly said. Leon had made that admission to me when I was upset about my own father, when he was trying to comfort me—and now I’d thrown it back in his face. I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. “I don’t want revenge. I wanted to be able to trust you.”

“You can trust me.”

He looked at me. It wasn’t his Hungry Puppy look, the sad eyes I always accused him of using to get his way. It was the other one, the kicked-puppy look, all lost and wounded and alone. And the most horrible part was that I was the one who had kicked him.

I was crying now, but what was worse was that he was crying. He lifted his arm to cover his face and turned away.

“Leon, I’m sorry,” I said again.

His voice was thick. “I can’t—I can’t be around you right now.”

The distance between us had turned solid. I couldn’t have crossed it if I tried. “Please don’t leave,” I sobbed.

“I…” But he didn’t say whatever he’d intended to.

He disappeared while I stood there, hugging my arms, still pleading with him to remain.

Mom found me in my bedroom.

I was sitting in bed, the covers pulled up over my legs, even though my window was still open and the warming evening air was thick around me. I was waiting for time to pass, for the tightness in my chest to ease. I kept checking my phone, to see if Leon had texted me. I wondered where he’d gone, when he’d come back.

There was no if to that statement. He had to come back. He was my Guardian. He couldn’t escape me, even if he wanted to. Which he probably did.

I’d tried calling Gideon, but I wasn’t certain he even had his phone on him. I’d texted him, as well—but after a moment the absurdity of texting a Harrower had struck me, and I’d started laughing in a raspy, croaky sort of way that reminded me of Iris, and that only made me laugh harder. Eventually, that had stopped, too, and I sat in silence, staring at my wall. Gram and I had painted my room the spring before she died, covering up the pastel pink with a blue so pale it was almost white. I wished she were there now, telling me stories and secrets, telling me it would be all right. Even if I wouldn’t have believed her.

I turned to the sound of footsteps. Mom paused in my doorway, looking at me.

Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I felt my lip wobble. “Are you here to yell at me, too?”

She sighed, stepping into the room. She had her Morning Star hoodie on, but it was unzipped, showing the bright yellow of her shirt beneath, and her hair was still down. She crossed the room and sat at the edge of my bed, scrutinizing me.

“You can’t blame Leon,” she said.

“I don’t.”

She reached a hand toward me, grasping the end of my hair. She let the curls slide through her fingers. “You’ve got your father’s hair, you know. I used to tease him about it. I always said it would look better on a girl.”

Through my tears, I gave a snort of laughter. “That’s…mean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he ever put up with me.” She gave me a sad little half-smile. “Adrian’s hair. But your crappy decision-making, that’s all me.”

I hunched my shoulders. “Thanks.”

“I’m not going to lecture you. I have no moral high ground to stand on. Seventeen years ago, I’d have risked the safety of the entire Kin rather than go along with Adrian’s sealing. If it had been a choice between him and the world, I’d have chosen him. Every time.” The corner of her mouth quirked higher. She caught my hand. “Love changes the rules. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does. I know how much Gideon means to you. You were looking out for your friend. I can’t say you were wrong. I don’t know if you were. We make our decisions and we live with them. That’s all we can do.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I can’t say I’m happy to face Verrick again.”

I swallowed, remembering the last time she’d faced him, that long ago night when they had fallen from Harlow Tower wrapped in the Astral Circle’s light. I had seen it with her memory, felt the rush of the wind about her, the lurch of her heart. That was the night my father’s powers had been sealed. The night she had gone to Lake of the Isles to meet him and found herself waiting there alone. “If he’s unsealed,” I said quietly, “that means my father should be, too.”