Knowing that a couple hours remain until Jaron and the rest of the troops arrive in the City, Luca and I detour into the Commons. We scramble up the sides of decrepit buildings and leap across the rooftops towards my old hunting grounds, eyes peeled for familiar faces.

I spot Harry before he spots me, his hulking figure is a dead giveaway amidst the other people making their way through the market. I throw myself off a ledge, landing in a striped canopy shadowing a cart full of fruit and rolling to the ground. Harry's great, booming laugh greets me when I straighten and I am at once surrounded by the scent of freshly baked bread as he crushes me to his chest.

"Why, if it ain't the fabled Runner!" My old friend declares, pushing me back and studying me carefully, his eyes crinkling above his unkempt beard. "This is a sight for sore eyes."

"How you been, Harry?" I grin.

"Never better, never better." Harry nods over my shoulder. "Luca, always good to see you, mate."

I only half-listen as Luca and Harry exchange pleasantries, my brow furrowing as I take in Harry's appearance. His normally rotund form has lessened since I last saw him, his clothes hanging off his wide shoulders. There is scarcely a soul in the City who hasn't felt the effects of our rationing. Since the siege on Babel and the subsequent increase in Mech-Enforcers, our desert oasis' have been stripped bare. We try to compensate by sending people further and further into the Wasteland in search of food, but still our stomachs remain unfilled. I lick my sand-dried lips, imagining Babel and the stolen rain falling unbidden from the dome above. For all her cruelty, the Madam's citizens were well-fed and it's difficult to ignore the sting of jealousy.

"Are you headed to the pub?" I ask Harry.

"I am indeed, m'dear." Harry pulls his baker's apron over his head and stuffs it in his back pocket. "Care to tag along? There happens to be someone joining us who's keen to see you."

My heart soars as I fall into step between him and Luca. "Lead the way."

We arrive at The Beacon just as the sun is setting and the pub is beginning to brim with customers recently off their work shifts. The dim lantern light shows me a scruffy orange mess of hair and I release a shout, fairly leaping over the scattered tables in an effort to clamber towards him.

"Frye!" I throw myself forward, laughing as my brother scrambles to jump to his feet and catches me at the last instant.

"Hey, sis." Frye's hazel eyes spark with mischief. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you back in this neck of the woods so soon."

"I figured you might need a hand managing these goons." I reply happily, at once forgetting my lingering hunger.

"Right you are about that." Frye releases me to accept a couple watered-down mugs of ale from Harry, handing one over to me and grinning. "Rowdy bunch, this is."

"Don't I know it." We knock our mugs together and sip.

Lively conversation hums around us, the smell of soured ale and tobacco filling our nostrils and warming our bones. I laugh with Frye and Luca, feeling my heart grow lighter and my tired muscles loosen as I settle into the ease of my oldest friendships. I lean against my brother while he gestures grandly in his story-telling, for the millionth time uttering a silent prayer of thanks to the gods who protected him in that pit below Babel. The circumstances that took Frye from fighting in the Wastelands to being enslaved along with countless others by the Madam are still fresh wounds; the anger I feel for our lost years never far from reach. I shut my eyes tight as I fight the memory, my sense of peace suddenly obliterated by a white-hot rage. I shudder, ale sloshing over the rim of my glass and soaking my sleeve.

A familiar hand closes around my own, warm and comforting. I breathe deeply, concentrating on the the touch and pushing away the hurt. Slowly, gradually the rushing of blood in my ears is replaced by the buzzing of the pub's patrons. I release a sigh, glancing over at Luca and offering him a small smile of thanks. He watches me carefully before releasing my hand, nodding and turning back the group.

Reluctantly, I polish off the last of my drink and bid my goodbyes; lingering an extra moment with Frye.

"What's the rush?" He asks, drawing me into a quiet corner. "You've only just got back."

"I'm not going far." I say. "Meg's called us back to the Palace. I expect she wants to discuss some new strategies we can use to defeat the Mechs."

Frye twitches ever-so-imperceptibly at the mention of his former tormenters. "You know, this war you're waging reminds me of another."

"This is different." I tell him. "It's nothing like the one the royals forced us into against the Wasters. This time I know precisely who our enemy is and what she's capable of."

"Don't we all." Frye remarks dryly. "But do you really see an end to this, Kay? Maybe you should just let bygones be bygones. Let the Madam have her crappy old dome and enjoy what you've helped to create here." He nudges me, his elbow a little too sharp. "We could spend more time together. You know, catch up on the old days."

I smile sadly at the mention, remembering days spent in our cramped flat together with our parents or loitering in the alleyways with Edmun and Lara. People who no longer exist; gone in one way or another.

"I'll see you later." I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Don't wait up for me."

"Never do."

I feel Frye's eyes on my back as Luca and I shoulder our way through the crowded tavern towards the exit. Wordlessly, we pick a path up the side of the nearest building and navigate the rooftops by moonlight. The glowing spire of the Palace looms overhead, drawing us into the centre of the City and the depths of the former Court.

We drop down into the Palace's cobblestone courtyard and enter through the Great Hall. A few scattered attendants are clearing up after the evening's meal and I notice that the platters are picked clean save for a couple limp vegetable stalks and some leftover gristle. Not even Meg's grandiose home is exempt from these lean times.

"They're in the study." Someone calls out to us and I raise my hand in thanks. I lead Luca through a servant's passage and up to the second floor, handily navigating the low-ceilinged tunnel and emerging in Meg's private quarters.

We find the queen seated primly on one of the study's settees while Jaron paces the floor in behind. Meg is as glamorous as ever, with her coal-black hair coiled loosely and cascading down her shoulders. She turns as we enter the room, the gold sheen of her robe glinting in the candlelight.

"Kay, Luca." She smiles warmly, rising to her feet and opening her arms wide. "It's good to see you."

I return her embrace, nodding to Jaron over her shoulder. "This is a quaint gathering. Will anyone else be joining us?"

"I thought we'd keep this discussion between a select few." Meg returns to her seat on the couch and gestures for us to do the same. I remain standing, leaning back against the desk and stretching my legs out in front of me.

"Sounds ominous." I tilt my head. "What's on your mind? Besides this fellow, that is." Jaron smirks while Meg's cheeks redden.

Meg takes her time in answering, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from her dress. "I think it's time we discuss the next steps for the City."

"We are disposing of the Mech warriors at a greater rate than ever before." Luca speaks up from his spot near the door. In the year since we've been acquainted I've never known the former Hunter to linger far from an exit. "I believe that we are gaining the upper-hand in this war."

"Yes, I've been informed." Meg glances at Jaron. "I'm most impressed with the strides you've made, but I'm afraid that it's in the best interest of the City that you redirect your efforts."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"I want to pull our troops from the desert." Meg says plainly. "There is nothing more to be gained from wasting our resources on yet another war. Not when we have a very real crisis to contend with."

I bite down hard on my lip. "You mean the food shortage."

"We can't put off this problem any longer." Meg sits up straighter. "If there is nothing to be found in the desert then we should combine our manpower and concentrate on producing food here, at home."

"And how do you propose we do that?" I say sharply. "Build a dome overtop the City and force our people to dig for water?"

Meg flinches. "Of course not."

"Then you must be expecting a miracle." I recross my arms. "We haven't been able to grow food here for two hundred years, I don't know why you suppose we'd be able to start now."

"Well, something has to be done." Meg says, her voice rising a decibel. "People are depending on us. More refugees are arriving in the City every day and we have nothing to offer them."

My fingers dig into the desk. "We're doing the best we can. Every scrap that we manage to raid from the Mech camps we send back to you."

"I'm afraid that stolen food and gamey meat isn't cutting it anymore." Meg has regained her trademark calm. "And having our troops risk themselves for little to no gain is insensible."

"Then allow us to go back into Babel." I press, not for the first time. "There was plenty of food there. If we launch an attack then we can gain access to their stores and take everything we need."

"Absolutely not." Meg shakes her head firmly. "I will not even entertain such a ridiculous idea."

"What's ridiculous? We've breached their walls before, we can do it again." My heart quickens at the thought of going back inside Babel. Back to the last place I saw Will.

"We are not escalating this war, Kay."

"I'm not suggesting that we escalate. I say we finish it." I straighten, my words hurried. "The Madam's defenses are weakened and her armies are scattered. Now is the time to strike."

"You have no idea what's in there." Meg points out. "No one's seen head nor tail of the Madam since the Irrigator fell. I consider it a blessing that she hasn't made herself known to us."

"The Madam is a coward." Jaron interrupts. "She hides behind her mechanical warriors so that she does not leave herself exposed."

"Exactly." I nod readily. "We've got her scared. We can't allow ourselves to lose momentum."

Meg sighs, sinking a little further into her seat and rubbing her temple. "I'm afraid that it won't matter whether or not we defeat the Madam. We're going to starve to death long before we get a chance to enjoy the victory."

My mind races. Giving up on our fight against the Madam means accepting that Will is really and truly gone. Despite seeing him fall on that godsforsaken day half a year ago, I hold onto a small, secret hope that he's still alive. Every enemy camp and outpost we raid brings the possibility of finding a certain pair of steely grey eyes amongst the soulless Mechs. Now—presented with the opportunity to once again cross the threshold of the Madam's dome—I feel as though his last feasible hiding place will finally be uncovered.

I have never dared to speak my thoughts aloud, not even to Luca. Rumours have long been circulating that the Runner is losing grip of her sanity and I am certain that if anyone were to learn how desperate I am to locate a dead man, they would see the sword ripped from my hand.

"We just need a bit more time." I say. "If there was enough food to tide the City over for a little while longer, we could plan out a final attack on Babel."

"Our scouts spotted an enemy outpost right before we broke camp." Luca speaks up, catching onto my train of thought. "There could be any measure of food stored inside."

Meg seems to consider this, her dark eyes thoughtful. Finally, she looks to Jaron. "What do you suppose?"

The Waster chief drums his fingers on the hilt of the curved sword affixed to his waist. "By all accounts the outpost is sizable. We stand to gain a great deal by taking its contents for ourselves."

Meg nods, turning back around and folding her hands primly in her lap. "Very well. You may seize the outpost but this is the last time that I will permit our troops to raid the Mech Enforcers. If there is nothing to be found then I want your guarantee that our people will be brought back to the City for good. I can no longer afford to waste manpower on fruitless endeavours."

"Understood." I barely manage to disguise my relief. "We'll leave at first light."

"You will take tomorrow to rest." Meg says sternly. "You may possess unlimited reserves of energy, Kay, but the rest of us are human. The Wastelands can wait a day; I am sure that your brother will be pleased to see you in the meantime."

I feel a twinge of guilt. "Yes, of course. I'm happy to stay."

"Excellent." Meg stands, straightening to her full, impressive height. "I'm glad that's settled. Now if you'll excuse me, it's late and I will bid you all good night."

"All of us?" Jaron raises an eyebrow suggestively and I stifle a laugh.

"For gods sake, Jaron. I am a queen, allow me a trace of decorum." Meg scolds, rolling her eyes in my direction.

Jaron offers his arm and the two of them stride from the room; Meg, the picture of grace and elegance and Jaron, the rough warlord. Somehow, it fits.

"You will stay in the Palace tonight?" Luca asks me.

"No, I think I'll head back to the Commons." I'm exhausted, but the thought of remaining within the Palace's glass walls, in the room where I once passed the nights with Will is unimaginable. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Luca nods. "Sleep well."

"You too." I offer him a small smile and slip back into the servants passage, my footsteps light as I trace a path out of the Palace.

My skin tingles at the touch of cool night air. I clamber for the rooftops, allowing my tired mind to drift as I make my way back toward the moonlit buildings decaying on the fringes of the City.

Every day is a fight to keep the search going. With supplies of food dwindling, Mech warriors increasing and still no trace of the Madam nor Will, I feel as though I am trying to summit a collapsing dune.

One step at a time.

His voice echoes in my mind, the words synchronizing with my footfalls. I feel the manic rush of adrenaline begin to work its way through my limbs and without Luca's calming presence to reign me in, my pace increases to a fevered intensity. I leap and jump with reckless abandon, the roofs and stars blurring together. Losing track of my direction I instead release myself into the run, pouring all of the hurt and anger into one blinding, exhilarating chase.

Arms and legs pumping, heart pounding, breathing in hot, shallow breaths. I duck lower and jump higher while visions of grey eyes, pools of sticky blood and a woman's cruel smile spur me onwards. Whips fall, daggers pierce. My ears thrum with the sound of mechanical clicks and whirs. The choking cloud of red encroaches from the edges of my vision, eclipsing everything but this moment, this feeling, this absoluteness.

The ground suddenly drops away and I twist midair, my heart in my throat as I fling my arms out and clutch the lip of the wall behind me. My sweat-soaked fingers slip as my feet kick desperately for purchase. It is with one single, mighty heave and a generous dose of shear luck that I manage to pull myself back on top of the City's outer wall, elbows scraped red and bloody from the effort.

I collapse onto my hands and knees, the cloud of red slowly fading as I suck in great lungfuls of air. Glancing up, I stare out across the great expanse of desert, concentrating on the way the blue dunes prick the star-dotted sky.

Maybe the rumours about me are true. Maybe I have gone mad.

Pulling myself into a sitting position, I dangle my legs over the wall and wipe the sweat from my brow. Get it together, Kay. I'm going to have to get these fits under control if I'm ever going to stand a chance of finding and killing the Madam. It's been several months since I deluded myself into believing that I was attacking Harmen in that pit below Babel, but moments like this serve to remind me that my mind is not always to be trusted.

I breathe out a heavy sigh and tilt my face upwards to catch the breeze. My hair lifts from my shoulders, cooling and centering me. Soon I can leave this suffocating city and return to the boundless freedom of the Wastelands. I feel the tug of guilt that always accompanies the eagerness; I know that I should be content to spend time with my friends and my brother.

And yet, there it is again. That tempting desert wind inviting me off of the wall and once more into the unknown.