209 A.B.

(4 months after the Runner's Rebellion)

"Are you sure that you're up for this, your Majesty?" The handmaid, Sera, asks me cautiously. "Your injury is still healing...perhaps you should rest a while longer."

"Thank you, Sera, but the sooner I get out of bed, the sooner I can get a handle on this treaty with the Wastelanders." I accept Sera's shoulder when she offers it, rising to my feet and swaying from the rush of blood to my head.

"Are you all right?" She asks nervously.

"Yes, perfectly." I blink the spots of light from my vision and plaster a smile on my face. "There, you see? Now, if you'd be so kind as to draw me a bath, I'd like to make myself presentable."

"Of course, your Majesty."

Twenty minutes and most of a bar of soap later, I am beginning to feel like myself again. Sera helps me to change the putrid dressing the Waster medicine man, Cade, made for me. The wound I sustained from Rowan's arrow is re-wrapped with fresh gauze and tingles only slightly beneath my gown. As I dress, I make a mental note to ask Cade to share his medical knowledge with our physicians.

"Could you arrange a carriage for me, Sera?" I ask, checking my reflection once more in the glass. "I'm going to visit the troops." Kay and Will have already left for the Outer City, but I should be able to find the Waster chief training his warriors alongside our soldiers.

Sera acquiesces and slips through the door. I take an extra moment to smooth my hair, rolling my injured shoulder tentatively before making my way down the stairs and out the glass Palace's front archway. My carriage rolls up a moment later and I allow the driver to escort me into my seat, sitting forward so that my shoulder isn't jostled during the bumpy ride.

When we finally draw up outside of the training grounds, I am surprised to find that I am nervous. The driver helps me out of the carriage and I give him a gracious smile, clasping my hands together tightly to quell their shaking. This is my first appearance in public since Rowan attacked Kay and I in the alleyway; I can only imagine the rumours and gossip being flung about since then.

No matter. I was going to have to face my people sooner or later. I borrow from my old protective, haughty persona and thrust my chin in the air, strolling purposefully across the open ground to where my regents have already gathered to watch the proceedings. The regents immediately stand to attention when I approach, offering me relieved smiles and warm embraces in turn.

"You look marvelous, my Queen." One regent, an older woman and former Fragment, compliments me. "I am so pleased to see you back on your feet."

"Thank you, Sasha." I say, giving her my most gracious smile. "I feel much improved."

"I am glad to hear it. We were all extremely concerned about you."

"Well, worry no longer." I cast my gaze out over the training field, watching the Wastelanders and soldiers run their drills. "How is everyone coping with the new alliance?"

The regents exchange concerned looks.

"Fairly well." Sasha says, cautiously. "With some exceptions."

As if on cue, there is shouting from the field in front of us. I glance over, frowning at the sight of a Wastelander and a City soldier violently shoving one another back and forth. Both are red-faced and I feel myself tensing when I notice the weapons clasped tightly in their respective hands. Before the fight can escalate, however, Jaron appears from out of nowhere and yanks the Wastelander bodily back, inserting himself into the centre of the fray. The chief's huge, hulking frame instantly dwarfs the two men and they step back, lowering their weapons.

The distance prevents me from hearing what is being said, but the Waster chief's words must have been effective, since both men appear appropriately mollified and begin to parry again, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. Jaron watches them for a few moments, his thick arms crossed and his brow furrowed. I don't realize that I've been staring until I catch him looking over at me. I blink, glancing away and turning back to the regents, trying with some effort to ignore the warmth creeping up my cheeks.

When Jaron joins us at the side of the field I make a point of taking my time in turning to greet him.

"Hello, Chief." I say, careful to keep my expression impassive.

"Queen Megra."

It feels strange to address one another by our formal titles after a night of drinking in that bar and the subsequent attack by Rowan, but Jaron understands the importance of diplomacy as well as I do.

"I was hoping that I would get a chance to speak with you." I tell him, deliberately avoiding the word 'alone', instead allowing my meaning to be implied.

Jaron picks up on my intention immediately. "As was I. Do you feel well enough to walk?"

I don't think he meant to be condescending, but I find myself bristling regardless. "Of course. Shall we?"

I bid goodbye to Sasha and the rest of my regents, falling into step next to Jaron and allowing him to lead me around the circumference of the training field and out into the City core.

We stroll for a few minutes in silence, both of us pretending not to notice the wide berth the crowd gives us. I keep my hands clasped tightly together and my eyes trained anywhere but on the person walking by my side. As the silence progresses, I search furtively for something to say. For once in my life, nothing comes to mind. Years spent sitting in various sitting rooms and now all my conversational skills fail me.

"Thank you." I blurt out.

"I am sorry." He says at the same time.

We both halt in our tracks and exchange bemused looks.

Jaron laughs, a deep, throaty sound and I feel the awkwardness dissipating. "Please, allow me to go first."

I smile, my shoulders loosening. "By all means."

"Rowan's actions were entirely her own." Jaron says, at once becoming serious. "But that is not an excuse for you getting hurt. As Chief, I have to take responsibility for not protecting you from one of my people."

"I appreciate that." I tell him. "But I don't blame you for what happened."

He looks confused. "Do you think that wise? You do not know me very well."

"If I regarded everyone with suspicion, then nothing would ever get done." I begin walking again. It is a moment before Jaron catches up with me.

I pretend not to notice the way he watches me fixedly, instead keeping my gaze trained forward.

"You think I'm naive." I say.

"I was not thinking that." He sounds genuinely offended and I smile. "I thought that you showed impressive instincts."

"Yes, well. That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" A flower-seller at the side of the road offers me a blossom and I accept it delightedly, pressing a gold coin into her hand.

"Rowan will be punished for what she did." Jaron continues.

I breathe in the flower's scent. "Do what you will, but executing Rowan won't be what secures my trust in you, Chief."

"Call me Jaron. And you are Megra."

"Meg." I correct him, smoothly. "When I say that I trust you, Jaron, I mean it. I want us to begin this alliance with the full truth."

"Agreed." He grins and extends his palm. We shake and I am momentarily fascinated by the way his hand completely encompasses mine.

"Since we are being honest, Meg." He seems a bit too pleased to be calling me by my first name. "I want to ask you a question."

"Go on, then."

"Why does this peace treaty mean so much to you?" He looks down at me, his dark features laced with what appears to be genuine curiosity.

I look up at him, surprised. "Because I want my people feel safe." I say, as if it isn't the most obvious thing in the world. "It's hard enough to survive out here. If war can be avoided, why would you wish to add it to the struggle?"

"Because war is the way to be safe." Jaron responds. "When your people are battle-hardened, they are prepared. As you said, this world is dangerous, and we must always be ready to face what it gives us."

"Ready, yes, but not always actively at odds with it." I twirl the stem of the flower in my hand, watching him thoughtfully. "Don't you get tired of the constant fighting? Haven't you ever just wished for some calm?"

"You sound like my brother." Jaron runs a hand over his knotted hair. "Luca has distaste for war, also."

"And you don't?"

"War is something I understand. I am good at it."

"You are probably skilled at other things as well." I tell him. "Such as assisting defenseless women in alleyways. Is it my turn to say my piece, now?"

He chuckles. "You and your Runner are anything but defenseless."

"All the same, we would probably be dead if it weren't for you and Luca stepping in." I wait until his eyes meet mine. "So, thank you."

He doesn't respond immediately and I notice the way his green eyes dart to my shoulder, where my bandage is faintly visible.

"I am glad that you aren't more hurt." He says. "I was worried."

I don't have a response to that, so I quirk him a small smile and go back to studying my flower.

"Your Runner put up a good fight against Rowan." Jaron remarks. We alter our direction slightly, heading in the direction of the Palace. "She is remarkably skilled. Where did you find her?"

"Kay found me." I say, fondly. "She infiltrated my father's Palace and befriended me while pretending to be an Intact. There's a bit more to it, but to make a long story short, I owe her everything."

"You are fortunate to have each other."

I tuck the flower in behind my ear. "I know. I don't have any siblings and my parents are gone- Kay is the closest thing I have to family."

"That explains why she is so protective of you."

"I am sure you find it's the same with your brothers." I say, glancing up at him. "Look at everything you are doing to bring Noah back."

His jaw tightens. "Am I doing everything I can? I feel as though I am no closer to finding him than I was a month ago."

"You are. We're going to help you." I tell him, with more confidence then I feel. "At this very moment, Kay and Will are investigating Rowan's tip about Lord Grayson. When they return, we will have more information about where to search for Noah."

He releases a breath of air between his teeth and I resist the urge to place a comforting hand on his arm. I can't imagine how it must feel to have your family taken from you and my heart goes out to Jaron. Whatever differences exist between our two kingdoms, the pain of losing someone you care about is not a feeling I would wish on anyone.

We arrive back at the gates of the Palace and I exchange a friendly greeting with the guards. Jaron ignores the suspicious looks shot in his direction, holding the door open for me and following me down the hall towards one of the lounges.

I relax into an armchair, grateful for the chance to rest. My shoulder throbs and I try to ignore it by focusing on Jaron. He lowers himself onto the chair opposite me with surprising grace, appearing at once entirely at home. There is something strangely satisfying about seeing the oversized Waster chief so at-ease in my ornate Palace.

It is his ability to appear calmly content in any situation that makes it almost too simple to converse freely with him. As leaders, there is already a deep level of understanding between us, and if I am honest, it is thrilling to be able to relate to someone on this level. There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to pick apart Jaron's brain; to learn how he copes with the everyday worries that plague me, but I know that I must tread carefully.

A steward appears, bringing Jaron and I a pitcher of water and leaving discretely. Jaron pours us each a glass and hands one over to me, raising his own cup in an expression of cheers before downing it. The action reminds me of our all-too-short outing to the tavern and I smile behind the rim of my cup, sipping delicately.

"How do you wish to proceed with this treaty?" Jaron asks, sitting back in his seat and draping his arms casually around the back of it. "Should we arrange paperwork?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." I say. "I would prefer to take you at your word; if you decided to renege on our arrangement, then a piece of paper isn't going to change anything."

He grins and I notice, not for the first time, how his smile changes his entire face. Were I less discriminating, I might consider him handsome.

"I must say, Meg, that I am impressed with the way you rule."

I glance up, surprised. His use of my name and the way he stares at me so intently at once commands my full attention.

He continues, his green eyes never leaving mine. "Your people trust you implicitly. You are surrounded by a strong, loyal group of supporters and you react to every situation with calm and ease. I have been chieftain for nearly a decade, but I believe there is much I can learn from you."

I blink, for once at a loss for words. He seems content to sit in silence, watching me as he takes another long drink.

"Thank you." I finally manage. I tilt my head at him, thinking. When Jaron and I first became acquainted I wrote him off as yet another arrogant man suffering from a sense of superiority. His tirades about strong leadership and casting traitors into the Wastelands was a clear symptom of an unforgiving and unchangeable nature, but now I find myself regarding him in a new light. Perhaps his loss of Rowan's loyalty has caused him to reconsider his leadership techniques, or perhaps Noah's disappearance has shaken him badly.

Or, perhaps the Chief's mind has always been changeable; I was just too blind to see it.

"What do you think I should do about Rowan?" He asks.

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? You want me to advise you?"

"You are the one she attacked. I think it right that you decide how to punish her." He rests one ankle on top of his knee.

"I think that killing her would be a waste of a valuable resource." I tell him, all too eager to speak frankly. "She is the only one among us who has any experience with the Madam."

"But if I allow her to live, what kind of message does that send to the rest of my tribe?" Jaron sits forward and I feel myself tense, instinctively preparing for an argument. However, he seems genuinely curious and for once not the least bit combative.

I continue cautiously, mindful not to upset the delicate balance we have struck. "I don't think there is anything wrong with being seen as merciful." I tell him. "Kindness does not make you weak."

He rubs his beard thoughtfully. "This will go against everything I was taught by the old chiefs. Wasters show our strength through force."

"The old ways aren't always the best." I say, thinking of my father. "Times and situations change, and we as leaders need to be able to adapt."

"Where did you learn this?"

Jaron's constant questions and steady gaze are unsettling. Typically people engage in conversation with me by agreeing readily with everything I say and keeping to exceptionally shallow subjects. Jaron does neither.

"I didn't learn it from anyone." I bite down on my lip, catching my nervous gesture a moment later and straightening. "I'm figuring it out as I go along."

He stares at me for a moment longer and I fight to keep my eyes locked with his.

"I know that your Runner's Rebellion won you the throne." Jaron speaks slowly and I can fairly see the gears in his head turning. "But what happened to your City's former leader?"

"My father." I say, evenly.

"What became of him?"

"I killed him." Drawing a breath, I manage to keep my face impassive. "He refused to step aside. He tried to kill Kay."

I wait, expecting Jaron to react with some degree of horror or disgust. Instead, he nods sagely. "Your father was a tyrant." It isn't a question.

"Yes."

"Then you did what was best for your people."

I thought I had made peace with my father's death and my part in it, but Jaron's  self-assured conviction effectively alleviates my lingering doubts. For a single instant I feel the loss of my father acutely, but in the next a great weight is lifted from my shoulders. Jaron is right; I did what I had to do.

Our choices are not always easy, but as leaders we cannot shy away from them. This Wastelander is the first person I have met who understands as well as I do that our lives are not our own; we must take on pain so that our people do not have to.

We pass a few moments in silence, each adrift in our own thoughts. The steward appears again to refill our drinks, and I notice the way his eyes linger on the oversized Waster chief before he disappears back into the hall.

"So, Jaron." I place my glass on the table between us, sitting back and regarding him. "There is now a great deal you know about me, but I know next to nothing about you."

A slow smile creeps up his face. "What is it you wish to know?"

"For one, what was your family like?"

He tells me that his mother was Chieftess, but that both her and his father died of a fever when the boys were young. Jaron and his brothers were left in the care of Cade, the medicine man who healed me, until Jaron was old enough to take over the tribe.

"Cade raised us well." When he speaks of his old mentor his tone grows fond and his eyes take on a glazed, far-off look. "He recognized our strengths and pushed us to take responsibility for the tribe. We were each assigned to a role and grew with a sense of duty."

"What were your roles?"

"I was to be chief, Noah is a healer and Luca is our warrior."

"Really? Luca?" I think of the quiet, wiry Wastelander. "I thought you said he was a pacifist."

"Luca has the skill for battle, but as the years passed he began to lose his heart for it." Jaron sighs, suddenly appearing years older. "I cannot blame him. It is as you said; war becomes tiring."

"Then we should cherish these moments of peace." I say, raising my drink to him.

He grins, knocking his cup against mine. "I am grateful to you, Meg. This alliance was hard-won but together, Wasters and Miners will be a force for change in this world."

His words coax a smile from me. "Are you always so optimistic?"

"Always." He winks. "You will see."

* * * * *

That night, Kay and Will return from the Outer City with my old fiance, Lynal Grayson in tow. Lynal is immediately dragged away to the gaol and I arrange for us to meet in my study, inviting only a small, core group. It is imperative that we remain calm and keep any new information contained; my recent brush with death and our subsequent alliance with the Wastelanders has set everyone on edge.

Jaron, Luca, Cade, Kay, Will and I have spread out around the room. Will and Kay have relayed everything they have learned; from encountering Will's father to stealing the secret contract, to confronting and essentially kidnapping Lynal Grayson.

I sit with my head in my hands, mentally cursing myself for not having checked up on Lynal's activities sooner. The Outer City is technically under my rule, but as a show of good faith I had more or less left him to his own devices. Now, I see how wrong I was to misplace my trust. Not only is the Intact system still largely in place, but Lynal was in close contact with some shadowy stranger calling herself 'the Madam' long before I even knew she existed.

The most disturbing piece of information, however is that this war we have been in engaged in with the Wastelanders was a farce all along. My own father helped to instigate an unholy union that saw our own soldiers captured and freighted away to gods-know-where. Our fates were never truly our own; we were being controlled and pitted against one another by some unknown person.

For my father, it was an exchange of people for profit.

For Grayson, reinstating the old system and occupying the throne was worth killing me for.

I don't know what it is the Madam wants, but my life plus thousands of others are simply fodder in her larger scheme. Whatever it is she has planned, we have to stop her before she can see it through.

So much for peace.

"I suppose that settles it." I finally say, my voice muffled by my hands. Slowly, I raise my head and look around at each of my companions. "We have to fight."

Kay speaks up from where she is sitting on the floor next to Luca. "If we have any leverage, it's that she doesn't know that both Rowan and Grayson have confessed their part in this."

"I hope you are right about that." Will sighs.

"It does seem that all traces of our actions have been covered." Jaron says thoughtfully. "Rowan has been kept under guard here and Grayson left the Outer City without speaking to anyone."

"We must use the element of surprise to our advantage." Luca looks from his brother to Kay. "When we go to find her, we must keep up this pretense."

"You are right." Jaron agrees. "We cannot let their ships see our warriors coming for them."

"How can we attack? We don't even know where to find them." Kay points out.

It is Will who comes up with the final plan. "We should send out a scouting party to locate their base."

I study him, thinking. "Can you do that without the ships knowing you are looking for her?"

"We can use the tube tunnels." Jaron offers up. "There are several Waster camps posted along the line. I will speak with the tribes as we move underground, spreading the word and expanding our force."

"A handful of us should remain on the surface." Kay picks up his train of thought, speaking quickly. "A small group of Wasters travelling through the desert won't look suspicious. If we see a ship passing above, we can alert the rest of the scouting party at the next station stop."

I nod, biting my lip as I consider the various contingencies. This scouting mission is unquestionably dangerous, but I know there is nothing I could say or do that would keep my friends from plunging headfirst into the Wastelands and the unknown. I glance over at Kay, feeling my heart clench at the the unmistakable look in her eye. My Runner has grasped onto this cause with her trademark fervor, she is already as lost to me as Jaron's brother. My only hope is that Commander Cain will try and keep her in check.

Looking from Kay and up to Will, I feel my stomach twist further. He appears as calm as ever, but I don't miss the too-rigid set of his back, or his tightly-clenched fists. This fight is personal for him; his fellow soldiers have been taken and the war he fought in was proven unfounded.

"And what will you do if you can spot a ship?" I ask no one in particular, trying and failing to keep the wariness from my voice.

"We track it." Jaron says.

At the same time, Luca cuts in. "We attack."

The brothers exchange an identical look of annoyance as they glare at one another. It seems that now Luca, the pacifist warrior, is also in favour of battle.

"This is the time for patience, Luca." Jaron's tone is firm. "We must be clever and bide our time now so that we may fight with wisdom later."

His younger brother colours but says nothing. At least Jaron seems to have some intentions to stay safe; perhaps his presence can dissuade the rest from being too rash.

"I agree with Jaron." Will speaks up, his voice steady. "A small scouting party aboveground can track a ship from a distance and alert the rest of us in the tunnels as to the direction."

No one says anything for a time, each of us silently turning the tentative plan over in our heads. I realize suddenly that there is one person we have yet to hear from.

"What do you think, Cade?" I ask. The old healer sits calmly, his hands clasped elegantly in his lap.

He studies me for a moment before answering. "I think it is a good idea. Dangerous, yes. However, we must act before she gets wind of how much we know. What worries me is that this stranger seems to already have her hand in everything we do."

In his calm, reassuring manner, Cade has managed to confirm what the rest of us already feared. I nod slowly. This woman must be dealt with. My friends are clever and brave, the plan we came up with is solid. I will simply have to trust that together, we can all come through this and out the other side.

Straightening my shoulders, I gather my resolve and think to the next step. First, I have to ensure that there are no more breaches of trust. Now, more than ever, we need to gather our stealth and contain our information. Cade is right; we may not have much over the Madam, but there is a chance that she still doesn't know that we are seeking her out.

"Whoever you choose to go with you, you must be certain that they are one hundred percent trustworthy. We can't afford to have any more...slips." I stumble on the last word, grimacing.

Jaron shift uncomfortably in his seat and I feel a stab of guilt, hoping that he didn't take my comment personally.

When he speaks, he sounds as self-assured as ever. "None of my people will be made aware of what we are doing unless I am certain that they are completely loyal."

"The same goes for me." Will confirms.

"Let me be completely clear." My voice has grown stronger. "This is to be a scouting mission only. You are to avoid engaging in confrontation at all costs and report back to the City as soon as you learn of the enemy's base. Is that understood?"

My companions somberly nod their agreement.

"Then it is decided." The words taste bitter in my mouth. "I suggest that you take tomorrow to rest and prepare. It would be best if you were to set out at first light on the following day."

There is a general shuffling as people exit the room. I push the wayward strands of hair back from my face, looking up when I feel someone come and sit next to me.

Jaron is watching me carefully. I feel my heart give an unexpected lurch and straighten, waiting for him to speak.

"You are worried for your friend, the Runner." Again, it isn't a question.

"I am worried for all of you." I reply.

His easy smile helps to alleviate some of my misgivings, but I still feel a heavy sense of dread churning in my stomach.

"I will do my best to keep everyone safe." He says, his eyes never leaving my face.

I study him for a few moments. This gruff Wastelander has defied all of my expectations. He arrived in my City an argumentative, distrustful opponent and now he leaves it as a true ally. Whatever it is that we will soon face, with Jaron by my side I feel as though we will be ready for it.

"I believe you." I tell him.

Without another word he reaches forward, cupping my chin in his hand and kissing me. My eyes drift closed as my heart takes flight. I don't overthink the moment, instead letting all of the pressures placed on us melt away.

For now, we are not a Queen and a Chieftain.

We are Meg and Jaron.