“My grandmother died of the Sickness,” Zora says, pushing her lip sideways. “She was very young. My mother said she used to take her to pick kaeli berries each morning. That she’d planned the most beautiful turning out—you know, when a girl becomes a woman.”

“Oh, like a sweet sixteen?”

“Uh, sure. But this happens at fourteen. Well, in my GraMemi’s day it did. I never had a turning out. I grew up inside a mountain. The history of my people are stories on the lips of our Elders. For me, they are dreams, pictures in my head, the way I imagine it. That is a childhood I will never know.”

“I’m sorry, Zora. How much he took from you.” I see my father’s face. “And from me, too.”

“The tales say this island was ours,” she says. “It is almost make-believe, you know?”

I want to tell her it’s gon’ be real. That our people ain’t gon’ be forced to live this way, broken and in secret. That we will bloom on this island like kaeli flowers once did. But my words are wind. After everything I’ve done, every way I’ve failed, the only words she needs are actions.

The silence hangs between Zora and me as we stick to the perimeter, getting closer to Totsi’s. I’m careful to avoid walking in wide-open spaces. The Chancellor’s watchtower of an office is a dot up ahead at the far end of the Central District. I grit my teeth and press into the wall nearest us, sliding along its edge. It’s too far for him to see us, but if he’s up there, I don’t want to take any chances.

Jhamal falls in step with us and heat blossoms in me. In gratitude and something else I’m not ready to give words to. “Thanks for everything earlier. I’m really glad you came.”

He smiles, then winks. I hide my grin.

I check for Bri. She’s still to herself, quiet. As we walk, I pause every few moments, listening. We pass the Binding Ward, where onyx was attached to my skin before I knew I didn’t need that stolen toy. Before I knew the Ancestors’ magic lived in these cuffs and in me. It’s a heap of wreckage and something in me twists with joy. So many lies. Everything he built here was mortared in deception. Brick upon brick.

There’s so much carnage. Those fighting the Chancellor must be coordinated. Buildings tall and crumbled, the Justice Ward is a hollowed-out shell of a building. This is highly organized retaliation. Definitely not just some angry rioters. Smoke rises from a hill in the distance, from a residential neighborhood.

“Is that…?”

Bri shakes her head. “But my neighborhood is not that far from there.”