“Dwegini… probably,” she says, a flicker of something shading her expression. That assumption is more rooted in pride than anything else. Her family has been Zruki for as long as the faction existed. Blame for destroying her home doesn’t quite sit right with her, I guess…. If it did, would her answer have been different?

Kai shrugs. “All I know is this place is torn in half. Grays fighting other Grays.”

“Yeah,” I say. “And neither is backing down, from the looks of it.”

Jhamal’s jaw clenches.

“Zruki, we lived in entirely different worlds from Dwegini. I just can’t imagine us doing anything like this. Dwegini have always had that air of arrogance about them because of the way the Chancellor favors them. Their glittery homes on the mountainside, their fancy research jobs and social gatherings. The way they—they just move through this place like they own it because the Chancellor’s decided they aren’t suited for mine work.” Bri spits the words. “If anyone is tearing this place apart, it’s probably them. They have no respect for anything.”

Respect? I don’t respect this place either. Does she?

She sighs, apparently reading my expression. “I hate him. Don’t misunderstand me. I just—” As we pass what looks like it used to be a trinket shop, she runs her fingers along the brick facade and her eyes turn down. “ ‘Respect’ wasn’t the right word. The Chancellor should burn for what he’s done. I just… I don’t know.”

I study her pinched expression, the lines written into her forehead, as we skirt another corner, pass another crumbled block that used to ring with life. It was her home, and as messed up as the Chancellor is, she still has an affection for the place. Memories. It’s been her entire life.

“What was that place?” I say, pointing to the store we just passed.

“Trixy’s Fine Trinkets.” She turns a silver ring on her finger. “Dad gave it to me when I turned sixteen. My Binding present. Took him my entire childhood to save up for it.”

I rub her hand. “Hey, we will win. And then, rebuild.”

She nods.

The Chancellor’s tower still watches despite being farther in the distance. It’s so tall, even from Yiyo it can be seen like a dot in the distance. A watchtower. His dais. On the uppermost deck of the Chancellor’s tower is a room fenced in windows with a wide balcony, the jewel-on-top stone somehow untouched by the carnage. Curtains flutter behind the glass, and the hair on my neck stands. I squint, but whatever lurked there is gone.

“I don’t like this,” I say. “We need to get off the street. Back underground.”

“And we will,” Kai says. “But we have to get there first.”