She arrives at the bar three minutes early. It is not far from where she made to hunt, and so it is one of those old corpse-buildings upon the cobble street. She goes inside and finds a seat. The lights within are dim, and the few people present are dimmer: sunk into their drinks and their thoughts. It suits Eve well. She does not like to be seen or listened to. That is probably why Teresa chose this place.

She arrives precisely on time, wrapped up in her silks and her gemstones, and the door seems to brighten at her presence. This run-down establishment is no place for a high noble, and it is no place where one would display valuables: but Teresa has no fear. She is a pilot. Upon the skill of her jeweled fingers rest all the hopes of all the people the city wide. None will lay a hand on her.

She makes for Eve like a falling icicle.

When she is seated, delicately, opposite Eve in the dark little booth at the corner of the bar, she gives no greeting. She only says:

"I'm sorry, Eve, but you will need to depart."

Eve does not understand.

"From the bar? From the city?"

"From my home and my family," Teresa tells her.

Oh.

There is no shock. There is no panic. There is sadness, but -- was it ever really gone?

So it is over, then. It is only natural. She always knew it would end -- that even these sisters she loves could only tolerate her tainted presence for a time --

Will she be allowed to say goodbye to Lynia?

She thinks of how dangerous she is to that girl, and how Teresa probably knows, and how no one sane would ever let Eve close to a loved one --

Now there is panic.

Teresa's eyes are sharp and stern.

"You are hurting, Eve. I do not want you to hurt, because I care for you. But I care for Lynia more. She loves you dearly, you know."

Eve knows.

But does this mean --

"She thinks that you are well. That she has made you safe and happy. She trusts in it. She trusts in the justice of the world, when no such thing exists. I have known for a very long time that she is wrong, because I can see you hurting. But she must not be allowed to discover it. Lynia's failure... She must not be made impure by it."

Eve agrees, of course. That's exactly why she can't kill herself. Or admit anything. But what else can she do? If she leaves...

"I think she is beginning to notice, Eve. If she spends much longer with you, then if you continue to hurt she will learn the truth."

Oh. Good. Another threat. Another wall to stop her from escaping. She --

She hangs her head in her hands. She is hyperventilating.

"Can I -- can I say goodbye to her?"

Teresa tilts her head. "Yes. Of course."

Hope! Sweetest Lynia: Eve will see her again. She --

She catches her breath.

"Yes, you will need to speak with her. She must believe that you are healthy and happy. That you leave because you no longer need us. It will sadden her, but she will survive."

She breathes in, and back out again.

That she no longer needs them...

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "Sorry I need you. I -- I never wanted to be a threat to her. I'll leave, I promise. Just like you said. Anything for Lynia. So you won't have to worry anymore..."

A hand on Eve's wrist.

She looks straight at Eve. Teresa's eyes are dry, but her jewels glitter like tears.

She is...bad at this.

"You misunderstand," she says. "It's not that I want you to leave. I care for you. I always have. It will sadden me, too, when you depart. It's just..."

Her heart is beating swiftly. She must not show it. Control, always.

"You understand, don't you, Eve? For Lynia, I would do..."

"Anything," Eve whispers.

Wait.

She looks at Teresa. There are no tears, but there is pain. She can detect it, just barely. She has seen this expression before. When Lynia was hurting, or upset. When such pressure was placed on Teresa's heart that even her diamond shell could not but begin to crack.

Teresa is actually telling the truth. This is crushing her. To send Eve away, to never see her again: to make Lynia's dreams a failure. And she is doing it anyway.

To protect Lynia.

Her heart is in her throat, and it pounds with violence.

She never -- she never realized quite so acutely --

-- how much she loved this woman.