With a few hours of stolen sleep and a cold meal of dried meats, Alicia rides far into the west, leaving behind the smoke of factories and the winding streets to instead surround herself with dense trees. She feels calmer amongst the dark of the forest as night falls, calmer than she should being alone with only the shadows and the wild to keep her company.

She hadn't even realised how much she'd truly accepted life as an exile until now.

Brushing those thoughts aside, she directs her horse onward into the same trees she once met Lena in. It seems like a different life when she brought her evidence to Lena, bursting with possibility and hope and the need to fulfill the queen's dying requests.

Then her world broke.

As she rides she spots a dim light amongst the trees. She slips from the mare's back, loops the reins over a tree branch, and continues forward on foot, her hand resting on the revolver tucked into her trousers.

Ahead is a small cabin, gold glowing behind curtained windows. Swallowing, Alicia hopes this is the place Lena calls her own.

"Can I help you?" someone asks and Alicia would have smiled if the question weren't followed by the telltale cocking of a gun.

She lifts her hands and her gaze darts to the side of the cabin where Lena stands in the shadows, a repeater against her shoulder.

"Elena," Alicia says, using her real name, knowing that will get her attention better than any pleas to put the weapon down.

Lena steps forward, lowering the gun. "Alicia?" In the light, her scarred face and black eyes are revealed, wide and disbelieving.

"It's me," Alicia replies, dropping her hands to her sides.

Lena sets the gun down, then she's running, her arms looping around Alicia's shoulders before she gets the chance to draw a breath. She stiffens, but then her own arms wrap around Lena and she's thrust back into memories when this woman was one of her only friends.

In some ways, Lena is like a cousin, a long lost sister. She comes from the same Traveller tribe Alicia's pa does, and when Alicia found them in a search to learn more about her heritage when her ma forbade her, Lena was the one beside her, dragging her to every campfire story, shoving books into her hands, telling her all the wild things her grandfather believed that not even most Travellers bothered to believe.

Lena's thirst for knowledge aligned with Alicia's desire for belonging.

"You were exiled," Lena breathes, pulling back to study Alicia as Alicia does to her, her gaze roving over the scars that mar her skin. That familiar guilt grips her insides and twists because even though Lena was one of her closest friends, she still helped the woman burn half of her face.

"I was."

"I knew you would survive. If anyone was going to survive out there, it was going to be you."

Alicia's mouth curves into a smile. "I really wish I had your confidence, but I wasn't alone. I had help."

"Tell me everything," Lena orders, dragging her into the cabin.

So, she does. As Lena puts a kettle over the fire to boil and Alicia settles herself into a seat, she tells her old friend everything. She tells her of Kathryn, her sacrifice, of Warren and the other exiles and David's supplies. As Lena makes them both strong and bitter tea and she lets it warm her belly, she tells her of the Commons, of Samantha and how she's helped so many survive. As Alicia observes the small and cosy cabin, noting the strewn toys and illustrated books, she tells her of Oliver, her soldier, her captain, the man who was with her when she discovered the Ghuls, the man who made her realise people are immune to the Reaper's Curse.

And finally, as she stares at the pieces of tea leaves in the bottom of her empty cup, she tells her why they've returned.

"He needs to be stopped, Lena," Alicia says, her throat raw from talking for so long, but everything needed to be said. She needed to spill all of her truths and if there's anyone who'll understand her pain, it's Lena. Alicia doesn't know anyone who's had to sacrifice as much as this woman. "You know that."

"You still want to use the journal to do it?"

Alicia nods.

Reaching across the table, Lena covers Alicia's hand with her own, her skin a few shades darker than Alicia's. "Even with it, it still may not be enough."

"I know, but with the herd coming, we need to get some sort of control. Muovea will fall if we don't have an army to stop it."

"Then it's time for the rebels to come out of hiding." Lena tilts her head, her gaze going to the fire. "I'll leave my daughter with the Travellers and I'll come back."

Alicia nearly chokes on the urge to tell her not to do that, to stay hidden, to stay with her daughter away from all of this, but she doesn't. If any of them are going to survive the Grey Bloods and the grand duke, they're going to need all the help they can get.

The next morning with a night of restless sleep in the apartment alone—Oliver still with the other exiles—she approaches Kieran's warehouse, the outside making it seem empty and devoid of inhabitants.

As she steps inside, she finally takes in the place now that she isn't being kidnapped by her own brother.

Alicia is greeted by rows of beds and mattresses, of blankets and piles of clothing. So many homes in the slums were burned to the ground in an attempt to rid the Reaper's Curse from Muovea. In those first months of panic, it felt as though the whole of Muovea was on fire.

"Food is served at the back," a woman says to her as she rushes past, blankets heaped in her arms. The dark blue cloth tied around her upper arm twists Alicia's gut. It's what women in the war would wear to indicate their jobs. Nurse, mechanic, seamstress, none were fighters though many wished they had the right to fight. It's just another sign that Muovea is approaching war once again.

Kieran finds her there with her boots glued to the floor and gestures for her to follow him and she does. She's unable to tear her gaze from the sick and injured clustered in the building.

"You help these people?"

"I couldn't sit and do nothing, not when I had the money and resources to do something to help." They step into a side room, boards covering the windows where glass hasn't yet been installed, oil lamps lighting the small space. Kieran shuts the door behind them, picking up a lamp and bringing it over to the desk that takes up most of the area in the room. He sits behind it, rubbing his hands together, the chill of the room pricking at Alicia's skin. "Sit." He waves a hand to the old chair across his desk, and she does with a sigh.

"Has Lena contacted you?"

Nodding, Kieran stretches his arms up and laces his hands behind his head. "She'll be here soon. As will the others now that your exiles are safe."

"My exiles," Alicia echoes, a pained smile on her lips. How little he knows about her to consider her any sort of leader to the people of the Commons. She was willing to let slide that they had a spy in their midst. She was willing to deny them David's supplies because she wanted nothing to do with their fight.

If he knew half the things she had done, he wouldn't be sitting before her looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky.

Letting out a breath, Alicia knows she needs to tell him something, just so he'll stop looking at her like that. The guilt will kill her before the grand duke gets a chance to. "You should know I had no intention of coming back."

Kieran drops his hands to his thighs, a line forming between his dark brows. "Okay."

"Okay?" she echoes again, tilting her head. "I left, Kieran. It was my choice and I wasn't going to come back."

"Considering what happened, I don't blame you."

Her gaze flicks between his, trying to understand the words he leaves unsaid. "What do you think happened?"

Kieran sighs, rubbing his palms over his eyes. "When you... left, I decided I needed to find out why. So, I asked Ma what happened."

Mouth suddenly dry, Alicia struggles to force out her next words. "What did she say?"

Kieran leans forward, splays his hands on the table between them, and swallows. "A lot."

"Ma told you what happened during the war." Alicia watches Kieran, the statement not a question but he takes a long time to answer. He glances up at her from beneath his lashes. She waits for Kieran to speak to her, to dredge up past wounds and hurl words at her as her ma has always done.

She knows she shouldn't be putting either of them through this as they wait for the others to join them, waits for discussions to start about how they're going to save the last safe haven in Muovea. But she might not get another chance. The future is too fickle to wait for the right moment.

"Her version of it, yes," he finally replies, sinking further in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck, unable to meet her gaze. Alicia's arms tighten where they're crossed at her chest, trying to protect herself from any invisible blows that could be coming her way.

Alicia never thought she'd come home to a broken family and perhaps that was her naiveté once again trying to shield her from her wounds. A part of her knew that there was no undoing the things that had happened, the secrets that had been revealed when she was exiled, the betrayals that had cut into her heart, but she still had hope that everything she had sacrificed wasn't for nothing.

"I never went a day without missing you," Kieran continues, and Alicia frowns.

"Even after finding out what I did during the war?"

"We all did things we regret during the war," Kieran breathes, his hazel gaze sightless as he stares at the table before him. That haunted look tears at her insides. The distance between them feels far more expansive than just the small space between them.

"I'm sorry for what you endured, Kieran," she murmurs, trying not to let her pain trickle into her tone. "I'm sorry for what happened to Pa, I'm sorry that we're all so divided and I wasn't here to help."

"Licia," Kieran says, standing to reach for her across the table. Alicia lets his hand rest on her shoulder, his warmth much needed as she stares into his gaze and can only see the years of pain he's had to endure.

She wasn't the only one who suffered, and her actions only caused more suffering to those she loves.

"None of it was your fault."

"Do you honestly believe that?" she whispers her voice finally cracking.

He squeezes her shoulder, the lines between his brows deepening. "I don't blame you for what happened. Pa always threw himself into danger during the war to protect people, it wasn't in his nature to let those soldiers hurt you." Alicia shakes her head, protests already forming on her lips, but he lowers his head, piercing her with his gaze. "If I had been there, I would have done the exact same thing. You're my sister, Licia, I could never blame you for trying to protect this family, for trying and succeeding in making something of us."

Alicia pulls away then, her hands clenching into fists, the wounds still too raw. Four years she's spent running, spent loathing the moment she would have to look over her shoulder and see all she's wrought.

By the Light, she's left more carnage behind her than what she'll ever be able to fix.

"I was a monster, Kieran. The things I did..."

"You were a girl, Alicia," he says sternly, moving around the table to stand before her, his gaze hardening though she won't dare meet it.

She deserves all the blame, she deserves every dirty look and scathing remark. After all she took for herself, the hate is warranted.

"Ma was the monster." The conviction with which he says it has her eyes rising and her heart picking up its beat. "Remember when Adrian was sick with the Ruga flu?"

Alicia blinks rapidly at the sudden statement before nodding, the memories of such a time clear in her mind even though she was only little.

"Ma locked him in his room and declared that he would die and there was nothing any of us could do." Kieran grabs her hand, uncurling her fist. "She'd given up on him, but you hadn't. You'd sneak into his room and read him tales even though you were an awful reader and made them up most of the time."

Alicia smiles at that, remembering her small voice in the quiet of her brother's room, his cloudy gaze looking up at her with such hope that she dared face her mother's wooden ladle against her spine.

"You were what saved him from the sickness. Ma was willing to shut him away to save the rest of us from getting sick, but you didn't give up on him."

"I don't think I knew how serious the Ruga flu was, Kieran."

He narrows his gaze at her, seeing right through her. "You know you did, Licia. You spent days crying when one of your friends died from it, and you said you wouldn't let that happen to Adrian. You weren't a stupid kid."

"What is it you're trying to say?" she interrupts, glaring at him, refusing to let him ease the burden of guilt upon her chest. Only she can do that, and it won't be because she remembered the innocent veil she clung to as a child.

"You may have been holding the gun, but it was Ma who pulled the trigger," he finally says, stepping away from her. "And the gods will make sure she pays for her crimes as they made you pay when you were exiled."

Alicia can't bring herself to tell him that she hasn't paid nearly enough. There are things not even her ma knows she did during those two years, things that only the Reaper was left to witness. She could spend the rest of her life in exile and it still wouldn't be enough.

Alicia is on her feet the moment the door opens and Lena enters, a hood over her curly hair and her chin dipped down. Smiling at the woman who offers her the flicker of one in return, she glances behind her to see Oliver, Sam, and Galya. They all pile into the room and Alicia chews on the inside of her cheek.

Alicia clears her throat, glancing at Oliver as he tugs his fingers through his mused hair. "You should know Oliver Narovich," she says, looking at her brother who stands beside her to shake everyone's hand.

"Captain," Kieran greets, and Oliver smiles, a dimple sinking into his cheek as he takes Kieran's hand in a firm shake. "For some reason, I thought you were dead."

"You mustn't listen to so much gossip, Kieran," Oliver replies, but his smile falters as Lena allows her hood to drop back, revealing her scarred face.

"Lovely to meet you," she says, but something in her lopsided smile has Alicia's stomach twisting, the stiffening of Oliver's shoulders doesn't ease her concerns.

Alicia watches him shift, watches him slip on his mask as easily as adjusting his cuff-links. He offers Lena a polite nod and his shoulders relax, his face as neutral as ever.

She knows he still has secrets, that he did things for the grand duke he wouldn't be proud of. Alicia just doesn't know whether Oliver knows Lena as Elena; wife of the grand duke, now dead, or as Lena; the leader of the rebels.

Regardless, she knows it isn't the time to ask and ignores her unease.

Samantha is the last to enter, a cloak over her shoulders, a wary look in her eyes as she glances at everyone.

"Sam, this is my brother Kieran if you didn't meet him at the train-yard," Alicia says. "And Lena."

"Let's get this over with," she murmurs and stands by the wall, not bothering to sit like everyone else. Her shoulders are stiff and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"There are a couple of things we'd like to catch you up on," Kieran begins as they all sit, Oliver dragging his chair closer to hers.

Alicia is already internally groaning. Life goes on; she has to keep reminding herself of that.

"The king is dead."

Though she already knows this, it still manages to send a pang into her heart. The pang is for Sebastian, alone in that palace, left to fend for himself against the grand duke.

"How?" Oliver asks.

"He killed himself," Kieran's voice softens.

"He couldn't live with the guilt of what he'd done," Lena speaks, her voice anything but soft, a sharp edge to her tone. "Standing by and watching your wife be assassinated will do that to a man."

Beneath the table, Alicia's hands curl into fists. She'd perhaps been the last one to see the queen alive, and her last words still weigh on her.

Alicia's gaze flicks to Sam, but her face may as well be carved from granite. Her dark brown skin is paler than usual though.

"So, you're certain that the duke didn't kill the king?" Oliver once again asks, voicing the questions Alicia can't seem to be able to.

"I'm certain," Lena says. "His hold on the capital is shaky without the king supporting him, and Sebastian is too much of a risk for him to control. The grand duke needed the king alive."

The situation is worse than she thought. How could she have let any of this happen? If the queen were alive now... Alicia was in a position of power and she squandered it.

Oliver breaks her out of her reverie as he brushes his knuckles against hers beneath the table. Alicia glances at him, her eyes displaying every one of her fears.

"What of Sebastian?" Alicia voices.

"The duke has postponed a coronation," Kieran replies. "And has stopped the council from taking control during these trying times." He rolls his eyes.

Alicia presses her lips together. "Then we have no allies in the palace. No one to help us against the coming herd." Silence stretches between them, the reality of her words being felt by everyone in the room.

Without an army, without some sort of force beyond the handful of exiles and the struggling rebels, they don't have a single hope of destroying that herd.

And they're running out of time.

Each day wasted with planning and plotting and hiding is another day that tidal wave of the undead has to inch forward.

Muovea has always been a kingdom of relative peace, content with farming and trading without trouble with their neighbours. The worst they had to worry about were the power-hungry gangs of the south and the west, but they paid their people better wages than the greedy nobles.

The Reaper's Curse has changed everything. Weapons and basic necessities were stripped for the supposed betterment and survival of this country, leaving the poor defenseless, homeless, and hungry. There are too many people with too little resources now that they've cut themselves off from the outside.

They won't survive another war, especially not against the undead.

"We need to convince the duke to help us," Alicia says, her voice barely a whisper.

"What?" She doesn't know who blurted out the question, but as she lifts her chin and looks at each of them she knows they all want to demand whether she's out of her mind or not. Maybe she is. She knows what desperation feels like and it's a lot like failure.

But failure means death.

"We need the grand duke's soldiers. His weapons and supplies. We need him to help us weather a siege."

"No." It's Sam who growls the word, pushing away from the wall. "That bastard killed my mother."

"He's taken from all of us," Alicia replies, trying not to think about her pa's blood on her hands. "We're no closer to a cure. We won't survive without him."

"Find another way."

"There isn't," Alicia spits, lurching to her feet, the chair tumbling to the ground behind her.

The last thing she ever wants to do is grovel at Sergey Volkov's feet, but if it means their survival than she needs to.

Alicia glances down at Oliver, her gaze begging him to understand. "You asked me how far I'm willing to go. This is it."

He meets her eye. "How would you even get close enough to him to talk?"

"I know someone who can help me," she replies, the plan already forming in her head as she talks. This is the only way.

He looks away for a moment, shadows forming within his eyes, dampening the spark of silver within them. "Okay," is all he says and that's all the permission she needs. Everyone else will see in time, but as long as Oliver is by her side, she doesn't care.