Time stands still as I stare at the person before me. Lara glances up timidly, catching the look on my face and ducking quickly to the side so that Frye stands between us. I fight against the colour red, trying to remain conscious of the many eyes and ears upon us. Distantly, I recall that Lara and I were similarly surrounded the last time we were face-to-face and a steely determination shudders through me. On that night I was a girl, broken and weak. Now, I am a chieftain.

"Lara. Brave of you to come." My voice is dangerous, shaking only a little. "Shame I haven't the time to catch up." Spying Jaron a few yards off and listening intently, I make to leave.

"Kay," Frye catches hold of my elbow. "It isn't what you think."

I look down his hand, anger giving way to hurt.

"I have to go." I shake him off, walking towards Jaron. The crowd parts as we pass and I keep my steps purposeful, the sand-coloured canopies and bonfires blurring as I stalk away from the stunned silence of a pair of traitors.

It isn't until we push our way through the folds of a tent that I blink myself back into awareness, out of habit remaining near the entrance until I've taken full stock of it's occupants. I am relieved to see that Jaron and I can find common ground in keeping our gathering small. Jaron has settled his hulking form into a seated position on one of the tent's many rugs while Luca and Cade prepare the tea. The heady aroma and familiar scene coax me forward and into the lantern light.

Cade materializes, smiling warmly and pressing a cup into my hands. "I take it you have not yet eaten?" The distinct rumble of my stomach is my answer and Cade gently steers me towards a low table. "Help yourself, I did not finish my supper."

I do as the old healer says, bringing my food and my tea to the floor. Jaron seems focused on his own drink as I sink down across from him, kindly waiting until I am seated before beginning his interrogation.

"I recognized that girl." He says, the deep rumble of his voice causing some tea to slosh onto my hand. "She was on that balcony with the Commander that night, was she not?"

I take a long, deliberate sip of my drink before answering. "Yes, she was."

"A true feat, Runner. Your chiefhood is deserved if you can make a follower of someone whose death you publicly ordered."

I bite back a retort, seething silently while we wait for the others to join us.

Luca shoots me a questioning look as he helps Cade to sit. I give a subtle shake of my head and carefully place my drink on the ground, leaning forward with all thoughts forgotten except ones of our imminent attack. Cade and Jaron listen intently while Luca and I relay our news, the warlord's face turning to thunder as we describe the Madam's machine and the storm it conjured.

"It matters not." Jaron says finally, flexing his massive hands. "Rain does not unmake her crimes. This changes nothing."

"It changes everything." I argue, the words bitter. "This is bigger than us now, Jaron. Much bigger."

"Kay is right." Cade nods.

Jaron dark gaze slides back and forth between us. "Outside these walls there are twenty thousand starving warriors who have been promised their vengeance. Rain or no rain, there is no stopping this war."

"I had no intention of stopping it." My voice is low. "I want that dome and it's contents under our control. I want her under our control."

"You wish to keep the enemy alive?"

Speaking through clenched teeth, "It isn't about what I want."

"We both know that is not true."

"Jaron." Cade cuts in firmly. "We must stay on task."

The former chieftain smirks, holding up his hands in surrender. "Apologies, I know it is not my place to question the Runner's decisions, I am only second-in-command. It is just that I am surprised at our chief's sudden change of heart, especially after everything the Madam has done to us. To her."

My eyes shift to him, narrowing as I refuse to take the bait. "The Madam lives. We will take her dome, her stores of food and her rain. We will strip her of everything and when we are done, she will find herself in a place worse than death. Whatever power she wields over the weather will be our own and when she has outlived her purpose, I will have my revenge. You can count on it."

A battle-hungry glint sparks his eye. "That is more like it."

The lamplight washes over the maps Luca and I draw out, the tea growing cold as we solidify our plans. It is only when Cade has spent his supply of lamp oil that we declare it a night, leaning back to stretch sore muscles.

"It will work." Jaron says decisively, rolling up the parchment. "And the warriors are ready. The Runner will lead the charge from within and I from without. We cannot miss."

"Just so long as we leave nothing up to chance." I remind him. "If the Madam escapes then this will have all been for nothing."

"Not nothing." Cade groans a little as he rises to his feet. "Even if we do not capture that evil woman we will still have won the dome. We will have food, supplies..."

"We can put an end to the Brutes." Luca finishes. He expertly stacks four cups on top of one another and strides with them over to one of Cade's many trunks. I grab the kettle and join him, using a rag to wipe the dishes clean.

"Luca," Jaron calls out, interrupting us, "Come with me. I need a word."

"I'm certain there was a kinder way to ask." I remark under my breath. Luca chuckles, rolling his eyes at me before following his brother from the tent. I tidy quickly and make my own escape, eager to feel the night air upon my face. Slipping around the side of the tent I shove my hands through my hair, mentally reviewing our scheme for the thousandth time.

The boorish sound of laughter jerks me free of my thoughts. Annoyed, I am about to find some quieter place to think when I realize what they're talking about.

"She's even madder than the Madam herself, if you ask me." Someone says, his callous tone feeling like a punch to the stomach.

"You think?"

"Sure. She'd have to be, if even half the stories about her are true. No one would be able to keep their head on straight after all that, no way."

"My mate is going with a girl who was there during the last siege of Babel. She says that she saw the Runner break like a bloody matchstick."

"No kidding?"

"Hand to gods. She says that when the old Commander was done in the Runner went completely mental, had to be dragged out of there, the whole bit."

"Almighty." Someone whistles. "I'm telling you, the girl is snapped like a damned twig."

"You say the Runner's mad, but we're the ones geared up to follow her into battle. So, what's that make us?"

"Drunk and stuffed full, if she's telling the truth about the rain."

The laughter fades as the group wanders away, leaving me standing in the narrow space between the rows of tents with my chest rising and falling rapidly. It isn't until a familiar hand falls on my arm that I am jerked free. Looking up I find Cade studying me carefully, the concern written across the old man's face only making me feel worse.

"Are you all right?" He asks.

"Fine." I pull my hand back, crossing my arms. "I suppose it serves me right for eavesdropping."

Cade smiles. "Not your fault. There is hardly a corner in camp that is safe from Runner gossip."

"Shame they don't have anything more interesting on their minds." I scuff my toe in the sand.

"People will always talk of their heroes."

"You know I don't like that word."

"Forgive a literary mind. I enjoy the word very much."

"My days are numbered, in any case. Once this war is over they'll have to find a new hero."

This time, Cade shows no trace of humour. "Are you sure you are all right?"

"I told you, I'm fine." I avoid his eyes, looking out at a campfire smoldering in the distance. "It's just been a strange night."

"That girl Jaron mentioned, the one from the balcony."

"Yes, Lara is here." My voice is hollow.

Cade waits a long time before replying, reading me as though I were a book. "There is more history between you and her."

The skin on my back burns. I swallow, buying myself some time before carefully selecting my words, "You have heard the stories about me, haven't you Cade?"

"Some, yes."

"Have you heard the one about my interrogation beneath the City?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"Did you hear that it was a friend of mine that turned me in?" I finally look at Cade, flinching at seeing his dismayed expression.

"I see." For the first time since I've known him, the healer seems at a loss for words. "The word 'history' may have been an understatement."

Scratching at my scarred shoulder, I shrug. "There's a lot that never made it into the stories. Lara was there for me at a time when I had no one else. She helped us in Babel. As always, the truth is a bit more complicated."

"So, you have forgiven her?"

I startle, "No, I could never."

"Why not?"

"Because of what she did! We may have been real friends once, but my arrest could have been a death sentence, for all she knew. No." I shake my head fiercely. "Giving me up was unforgivable. I don't care about anything else that she's done. It doesn't matter, not to me."

"An interesting choice." Cade muses.

"It isn't a matter of choice." I say, louder than I intended. "I can't look at her without feeling angry. If I could forget what happened I would, but I can't."

"Holding on is always a choice. In my opinion, it is the harder of the two options."

"What are you talking about?" Frustration gets the better of me. "Holding onto what?"

"Anger." He states simply.

"Of course I'm angry! I have every right to be."

"I am not arguing that. If you wish to remain angry, you are certainly going about it the right way," Cade's bright eyes crinkle kindly. "But humour an old man and think of this. If you wished to swing across a chasm would keep hold of the rope? You could, but then you will not be able to swing as far or as high. If, however you chose to let go..." Cade spreads wide his fingers, his brows raised in question.

I look from his outstretched hands to his friendly face and sputter, falling back a step. "You don't understand."

Cade's lowers his arms slowly. "It is a choice, dear Kay but one that only you can make."

The canvas walls press in on me. "It's late." I say, glancing over my shoulder towards the clearing. "I should go."

"Sleep well."

Without so much as a word I spin on my heel, walking quickly away with my mind churning and my thoughts spinning. My feet choose a path through the endless rows of ramshackle tents and before I know it, I've landed back where I started.

Frye looks up from his place before a small fire. I stand a few feet off, hesitant to move closer. Smiling a little he shifts to the side, patting the vacated spot on the log.

I sink down beside him. "You didn't have to wait up," I keep my voice low, mindful of the people sleeping around us. "I wasn't even sure I was coming back."

"Me neither," Frye admits. "'But I'm glad you did. I was beginning to get a bit drowsy, sitting here and I'm afraid that 'burn victim' won't be a good look on me."

"I doubt anyone would notice."

He shoves me playfully and I lean into him. Apart from the crackling flames and the occasional late-night passerby the camp has fallen silent. As I share a fire with my only family I am surprised to find that I'm nervous, wanting to tell my brother something important but not knowing what it is.

Luckily, Frye speaks up first, "I'm sorry, Kay."

I shake my head but my brother soldiers on, his words coming out in a rush.

"I should have told Lara not to come. I know what she did to you and I understand why you wouldn't want to see her. I mean, what happened to you in that dungeon is just...it was just..."

"I know what it was." I say quietly. "I just can't believe that you would spring her on me like that, in front of all those people."

"There's always people. Every time I see you, you're surrounded."

"So, it's my fault?"

"I'm not saying it's your fault, I'm saying that there's never a good time to talk to you." Frye pinches the bridge of his nose. "You've barely stepped foot in the City since I got back home. It's clear that the desert is more home to you now and that's fine, really, I get it. The City holds a lot of bad memories for you."

I nearly laugh at the understatement.

"But I'm still there." Frye finishes. "And so's our friends and a whole mess of good people. There's one in particular that was asking after you just before we left for the Wastelands. You might remember the Queen."

Meg. I've scarcely allowed myself to think of her since coercing Jaron to break ties. Bile rises in my throat, nearly choking me with the shame of my actions. Of all the underhanded things I've done in my quest for revenge, my shameful treatment of Meg is by far the worst.

"We care about you, you know. You, Kay Knight. Not the Runner. Not some folk hero."

"I don't like that word."

"Too bad." He nudges me and I shift away. "I really am sorry."

I soften. "I know."

"Lara asked me if I would do her this favour and she'd done so much for the Runner campaign, I thought that she had earned a spot here." Frye runs a hand through his floppy orange hair. "I realize now that wasn't my decision to make."

"She asked you to bring her to camp?" I ask, confused. "Why? Why would she want to be a part of this?"

"For you." He says it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Confusion must show on my face so he explains, "She's trying to make up for what she did to you."

My brow furrows. Frye implores me to believe him with wide eyes but behind them there is something else, something sad.

"You miss her." I state.

He shrugs but doesn't deny it. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Sometimes. Often. Constantly." He looks back to the fire. "But there are a lot of things I miss. Doesn't do any good to dwell on any of them, it's not as though we can bring them back."

Will's face flashes before me.

I watch my brother as he pokes absently at the dwindling flames, noting the cloud hovering over him. The person before me seems only a pale imitation of the mischievous, laughing boy I knew before Babel took him. My heart twists, hammering as I consider both his words and Cade's. It occurs to me that my grudge against Lara is another type of dungeon, one that's trapped Frye as well.

"I am truly sorry, Frye." I hear myself say.

He lifts his head, puzzled.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been the sister you deserve." I couldn't stop the words from spilling even if I cared to try. "I should have been there for you when you came home. And I don't just mean in the City, I mean..." I search his face. "Really there."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to." I tell him. "And I need to because you have to understand....I know what I am. And I know what I'm not."

"What you're not?"

"Not a good sister." I finish, shaking my head when he opens his mouth to protest. "Please, try to keep quiet, for once. I have a lot I need to say."  Ignoring the amusement on my brother's face I draw a deep breath "I know I messed up and there's nothing I can really do to make it right but...but I can at least get out of your way."

Frye's brows are raised but he does as I asked and keeps his mouth sealed.

"You deserve to be happy." I tell him. "And if Lara is the person that can bring you that happiness then..." As I shrug an enormous weight lifts from my shoulders. "I'm willing to bury the hatchet."

The prolonged silence prompts me to look over at my brother, a snort escaping me when I catch his stunned expression.

"I know." I wrinkle my nose. "Imagine that. Me, letting something go."

A slow smile spreads over his face as he rocks his head back and forth. "And look, the world hasn't ended."

"Not yet."

Frye's arm drapes around my shoulder as he hugs me to him. The scent of smoke clinging to his vest nearly overpowers memories of the City but I breathe deeply anyway, soaking up as much of my past as I can.

"I'm proud of you, sis." His voice is muffled by my hair. "You've overcome a lot."

I remain quiet, tightening my grip on him.

"You used to make me so mad as a kid." Frye recalls. "Always following me around, insisting that you could keep up. I remember Mum taking me aside and telling me that I had to be patient, that you were like the wind and you can't ask the wind to change it's course."

"Mum said that?"

"Uh huh. But I see now that she was wrong." Frye pulls away, still holding me by the shoulders. "You're not the wind, Kay. You're a godsforsaken hurricane."

* * * * *

I sleep late the next morning, burrowing more deeply into the bedclothes when the sunlight begins to prod. Blinking bleary eyes, I laze while the tent's barren furnishings come into focus. Frye's cot sits empty, the covers thrown aside haphazardly and the cushions littering the ground. I smile at his carelessness, easing myself out of bed while I search for my boots.

The lightness that accompanied my decision about forgiving Lara remains with me. I stretch my arms overhead, my smile widening as I make my way into the camp, intent on telling Cade the news.

At first jogging lightly, my pace increases as I draw closer to the healer's tent. The murmuring of several voices grows louder and louder and soon I am in an all-out sprint, pushing my way through a crowd and pulling to an abrupt stop when I find Jaron and Luca hovering outside the entryway. Luca looks up at my arrival, his face stricken.

"What happened?" I ask, breathless though my run was not long.

"It's Cade." He says. "Noah is with him, now."

There is movement behind us and I turn to see Noah stepping across the threshold. A single glance from him and a horrible sense of dread sucks the remaining air from my lungs.

I'm too late.

He's gone.