She would be alone with her own tradehouse until she managed to build up a team. She had ideas of where to start, and she was grateful to still have Kohl’s protection, but she would miss the sense of community and safety in the Dom.

Shaking her head, she walked away, refusing to look back. She’d gotten what she’d fought for all this time. Perhaps she would feel more confident once she got her own tradehouse operating. There were always whispers on the street of grunts at other tradehouses who didn’t like working for their bosses anymore, but she had to be careful in contacting them, or else their bosses might find out she was trying to poach them and kill them before she could.

After depositing her and Teo’s money in each of their accounts, Aina tightened her bloodstained scarf and set out. Passengers jostled by her with luggage as she passed the train station. Raised voices caught her attention from beyond them.

A crowd had circled around King Verrain’s statue, the sword through his chest reflecting the midday sun with a startling brightness that drew her eye like a moth to a flame.

In front of it stood a raised platform surrounded by Diamond Guards. Their rifles glinted under the sun and their wolflike gazes penetrated the crowd as if trying to find the criminals among it by sight alone. But her eyes focused on the people who stood on the platform, their chins lifted imperiously, their clothes of fine silk, velvet, and leather. Only the wealthy could afford clothes like that, and these five composed the Sentinel—the highest governmental body in the country, all Steels, and each of them even richer than the Hirai family.

General Bautix spoke while the others nodded beside him with hardened expressions. Since he was speaking, Aina assumed this was some kind of security or military announcement—he operated the prison, commanded the military and, by extension, the Diamond Guards. Bautix seemed to gain more confidence as the crowd grew, each additional spectator contributing to the volume of his voice, the fervor in his eyes, and his overinflated ego. On Bautix’s right were the rest of the Sentinel, whose names decorated every government document and announcement: Mariya Okubo, the only woman in the Sentinel, and the three other men, Eirhart, Gotaro, and Diaso.

As if they’d planned it, the black spires of the Tower of Steel rose directly behind them to the north. Others might feel foreboding, a sense of power, perhaps faith restored in the Sentinel that drove their country into an industrialized future. Aina only felt the press of smoke on her lungs and a gap between herself and them.

Bautix’s voice boomed over the gathered crowd. “One hundred thousand kors will be rewarded to whomever reveals the identity of the murderer of Kouta Hirai.”

She froze, her eyes fixed on Bautix’s face.

“Last night, a pair of unidentified persons infiltrated Amethyst Hill. One of them killed Kouta Hirai, who was among our city’s greatest financial contributors, in his own home. Motive is unclear. The primary suspect is a girl roughly eighteen or nineteen years of age, of Mil Cimas ancestry with black hair and brown eyes. We have a sketch of the killer’s face from witnesses that night.” One of the officers below the stage passed a rolled-up piece of paper to him, and he unfurled it to reveal a sketch that made Aina’s breath catch in her throat. “The Hirais are longtime personal friends of mine. I consider their late father like a brother to me, and I have given his sole surviving son, Ryuu Hirai, my personal assurance that we will bring this murderer to justice.” His voice ended with a ringing finality that settled upon the crowd like dust.