“There she is,” someone shouts, and I hold my fists up, tucking my chin, ready. I look for who said it, but the corridor is a chaotic crash of bodies and metal. Blood splatters the walls and dust makes my throat itch. I blink and a figure at the end of the hall looms, staring. I blink again and his face is clearer through the haze. Broad shoulders, gold breastplate against smooth ebony smooth skin.

Jhamal.

He stares, unmoving, and emotions rush through me like waves, an expanse of chaos filling the space between us in more ways than one. The Seer’s face and Zora’s body float through my mind. So do he and Kai. I see him holding the potion to my lips. Everything in me that just felt strong, fractures. How does he do this to me? I part my lips to speak, but a tangle of armor obstructs my view, and just like that he’s gone. And as much as I hate it… a piece of me I’ll never get back goes with him.

My spine pinches in pain.

“Jelani, watch out!”

I hold my side. My pants are ripped and swelling with red. I lower my waistband and find my skin split.

Thankfully, the wound is not deep. I pull out the jar of minty paste and rub the remnants on the wound. It tingles, and where there was just red is smooth brown skin again. I rush down the corridor, wedging myself in the maze of people. Gray skin is in a heap on the ground, tangled around brown limbs. My insides quake with sadness, but I tuck my lip and keep going. I mutter a prayer to the Ancestors as I pass my fallen brothers and sisters. I will come back and bury them all with my two hands. Every last one of them.

“Koz mwona.” Make it so, I pray.

A curved blade swings like a pendulum chopping down Loyalists with each swipe. The Beerchi attached to it meets my gaping stare, nodding at me. I stand a little straighter.

United.

My people. Well, most of them.

I did this.

An elbow slams my chin and I swing in response, my fist connecting with someone’s cheek. I don’t look to see who it is. I keep going. Kai’s got to be down here spying somewhere. And with her the Chancellor.

“Jelani!” The voice is aged. The Seer is folded on one of the beds jutting from the wall, veiled by a thin curtain. Taavi sits next to her, shaking.

“What is she doing out here?” I ask her. “She should be tucked away. And where have you been?”

“I’ve been here, trying to find somewhere to stash her. But I’ve searched this place high and low and nowhere’s truly hidden.”