The Tent District isn’t just a gathering place for Seattle’s ever-increasing homeless population; it’s a safe haven for wayward Nejerets, both the clanless and the dissatisfied dissenters. Not all of my kind approved of the Senate and its Nejeret-supremacist view of the world, and the bravest—or dumbest, depending on how you looked at it—went so far as to refuse paying their mandatory taxes to the Nejeret governing body. For the past decade or so, Heru has allowed such Nejerets to remain in his territory unharmed and unharassed, so long as they stay within this district’s fences. The second they leave the Tent District, they break the pact with Heru and become lawbreakers, punishable however he sees fit. It may sound harsh, but it’s a whole lot kinder than the reception these rage-against Nejerets—fist pump—would receive in any other Senator’s territory, let alone the punishment they would face for skirting their tax obligations.

Technically, Nejeret society is a republic, ruled by the Senate, a body of one hundred and one representatives elected by the rest of us. But each Senate seat comes with a geographical territory, and each Senator rules as a relative monarch over their land. Heru’s territory spans the Pacific Coast, stretching from Alaska all the way down to San Francisco. His is one of the largest and richest territories, but then he’s one of the most ancient and powerful Nejerets alive. He’s also technically the ruler of all of us right now, having declared martial law less than a week ago and stepped into the role of Governor General.

Thanks to him, we were at war. With the Senate. With ourselves. Ominous as it sounded, I was convinced it was a good thing. The Senate has a darker, shadowy side that’s all kinds of evil. Even if I hadn’t sworn an oath to Heru years ago, I’d have thrown my lot in with him in this fight. This war wasn’t about politics or power; it was about right and wrong. Plain and simple.

Heru’s war was the reason I was in the stinking Tent District in the first place. As the striker of the match that sparked this whole revolution, I’d essentially volunteered to be the Senate’s public enemy number one. They wanted to get their hands on me, to make an example of me, desperately. It would go a long way toward proving their strength. Knowing this, Heru tasked me with a dual-purpose mission—he wanted me to go underground, so to speak, traveling around and recruiting support for his side, while at the same time distracting the opposition by rousing dissention within their ranks. It was a pretty damn important job. It also left me feeling an awful lot like bait. Uncomfortably so. In fact, it sort of chafed, how bait-like I felt.

But I understood Heru’s reasoning. I was a diversion. So long as it was known that I was out and about, wandering free and sowing discord, those who remained loyal to the Senate—or what was left of the Senate now that some had defected to Heru’s side—would be distracted. They’d be fighting a war on two fronts, splitting their energy and resources between battling Heru and his supporters and hunting me, not to mention dealing with whatever chaos I stirred up. And trust me, I give good chaos.