The moon has waned but the small slivers of leftover light filter in between the bedroom curtains. A cool breeze wafts through the open window and tickles my bare shoulders. I am propped up on one elbow in Will's bed, my fingers rhythmically stroking the scars on his back.

"Your father gave you these." It isn't a question. In the dim light, I feel rather than see the raised welts covering every part of his back from neck to hips.

He lifts his head and repositions himself so he is looking up at me. "I was a difficult kid."

"I have no doubt."

He chuckles softly as he brushes my lips with his thumb.

I wait a beat before pressing further. "What happened?" I want to hear his story in his words.

He sighs, not saying anything for a moment, his eyes searching mine. "Do you really want to hear the sad tale of a spoiled courtier?"

"I have all night."

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, but not up into the grin that I know so well. I see his brow furrow and feel a tug in my chest as I register his nerves.

I place my hand over his, resting them both against my cheek. "What is it?" I whisper.

"I don't want you to think less of me," he says plainly.

I respond by turning my head and kissing his palm, revelling in its warmth against my face as I wait. I know he will speak when he is ready.

Will sighs and arranges himself so that he is looking up at the ceiling. I lie down next to him, cushioned between his arm and torso.

"My father raised me to be the best courtier I could be," he begins, matter of factly. "He wanted me to understand wholeheartedly that there was us and then there was them. Our ancestors were among the first to arrive in the City and we were therefore better, smarter, and more deserving of our station. Commoners were less fortunate underlings meant to serve us."

I can hear the bitterness in his voice and force myself to bite my tongue and listen patiently.

"On some level, I knew it was wrong, but I was punished whenever I raised a question."

At this, he pauses meaningfully and I feel a painful lurch. I lightly touch a particularly gruesome scar peeking around his ribcage. He gives a slight inhale at the contact but remains perfectly still.

"He beat you?"

"After a while, the lesson began to sink in."

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and folds his arms under his head, waiting as I settle myself against his shoulder. From this position, I can hear his heart beating steadily.

"We lived in a big house filled with servants." I lift my head from its reclined position to see him looking at me. "I'm sure you can imagine the way my father treated them."

I wrinkle my nose at the memory of pulling Will's father off the maid.

"I was such a selfish prick then, Kay. I would never hurt anyone; I wasn't as bad as that, but I really believed I was better than the commoners. I was a bully. I demanded that they serve me hand and foot, and when my orders weren't met, I berated them." He runs a hand over his face.

I furrow my brow, trying to imagine passionate, determined Will as a spoiled brat. Try as I might, I can't conjure up the image.

"So, what happened?" I ask.

"I became an ugly, bitter person. My father and I began to argue more frequently and the beatings became worse. It got to a point where we were fighting every day. The idea of being anywhere near my father filled me with such revulsion that I would make excuses to be out of the house whenever I could. I hung around the bars and opium dens, loafing about with my friends and leaving my mother and sister to deal with my father on their own. Eventually, home became so unbearable that I signed up for a term in the King's guard just so I could get away."

I nod, knowing all too well the need to run from something.

"Serving in the guard gave me an outlet for all my pent-up anger. For a year I worked patrolling the streets, pushing people around and generally getting off on a false sense of power. The things I had to do, Kay." He shakes his head, clenching his jaw at some secret memory. "You would be ashamed of me."

"I wouldn't," I tell him. "You didn't know any better."

"I knew it was wrong," he insists. "But I found a way to justify it, saying I was acting on behalf of the King, following his orders. It was easy at first, but then..." He sucks in a breath, holding it for several beats before he releases it slowly. "Once I was away from my father, I was finally able to think for myself. I resigned from the guard and enrolled instead as a soldier. I spent the next three years training as a medic and fighting in the Wastelands."

He shifts and wraps an arm around me. I snuggle in closer, melting into the cocoon of his body.

"That's where everything changed. Out there, commoners and courtiers fought side by side. There was nothing to distinguish anyone; at the core, we were just terrified people fighting a war no one understood. I forged friendships with people I never would have given the time of day to back in the City. The medical training I resisted for so long let me help them. Finally, I felt as though I had a purpose."

He doesn't say anything for a long time. I shiver, though whether it from the cool air filtering in through the open window or Will's story, I can't be sure. I am just wondering whether he has drifted off to sleep when he speaks again.

"The friends I lost were some of the bravest, most honest people I have ever known. In the Wastelands it didn't matter if you were rich or poor; you died just the same." His arm tightens around me. "That was when I realized what I had to fight for."

The tone his voice takes on when he is speaking of our cause returns, familiar in its ferocity.

"I suppose that's it," he says. His hand moves slowly up and down my side, causing goosebumps to rise on the bare flesh. "I returned home when my mother got sick. I helped her as best I could and kept my father off my back by following him into his medical practice. In the meantime, I met with rebels and helped gather support for the cause."

He tilts his head toward me and I look up to meet him. His grey eyes shine in the gathering light as the sun gradually works its way over the horizon.

"Then I met you," he says, huskily.

My eyes drift closed as his lips meet mine. I savour his warmth, my heart so full I feel as though it could burst. My throat constricts at the unending wave building up within me, so unlike anything I have felt before.

I shift on top of him, drinking him in, wanting, needing to heal every scar with my kisses. He wraps his arms around my back and pulls me closer, as though he could absorb me through his skin.

"You are a good person, Will." I draw back so he has to look at me directly. "I can see it in you. Everything you're doing here, now—it's more than enough to make up for whatever's happened in the past."

That familiar half-smile gets my heart racing again. "I've never told anyone about my scars before."

I quirk an eyebrow and sit up, pushing his shoulder aside so that I am looking at his back again. "You aren't going to be able to scare me off with these little things." I kiss one of the ridges, smiling to myself when I elicit a soft groan from him. "Nope." I move my lips down to another scar. "Not so scary."

He rolls over and lifts me up in one smooth motion, holding me on top of him. "I don't think there's anything that scares you," he murmurs against my neck.

I give in to his kisses, giving my hips a tempting little twirl.

He grunts and flips me off him. I slam down onto the pillows and he looms over me, pinioning my hands above my head.

"Look at that," I say. "It's like how we first met."

"Enough of your teasing, Runner." His voice is rough. "We need to get you back to the Palace."

"This is enough of a Palace for me."

"I could keep you here all day." He uses his free hand to stroke my midsection and I wriggle in his grasp. "But it's almost daylight and soon someone will notice you're gone."

I sigh as he releases me, watching as he rolls off the bed and pulls on his clothes. His scarred back disappears beneath his white shirt and he chuckles at my pouting. "Here." He tosses the wrinkled pink dress to me and I catch it reluctantly. "Don't tempt me any more than you already are."

Once we are both dressed, he leads me down the stairs and onto the street; he takes my hand as we walk through the silent morning alleyways. We reach the main road and he sticks out one hand to signal an approaching carriage, still holding me with the other.

"Wait," I say, suddenly remembering. "My shoes, your vest. We left them in the alley."

He shrugs. "I guess we will have to consider them lost to the cause."

The carriage pulls up and I let him help me into the seat. He shuts the door and remains on the road, leaning through the open window.

"You aren't coming?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I'm needed here. If you recall, there's been a slight change in plans and I need to relay it to our friends. I trust you can sneak into your bed without anyone noticing?"

"Piece of cake." At the mention of bed, my eyelids grow heavy. I realize that I haven't slept in over a day.

"I'll be in touch with you soon. Stay safe." He leans in through the window and kisses me, holding my hot cheeks between his hands.

I am released all too soon, sinking back against the leather seat as the carriage pulls away and Will's figure retreats into the distance. I take advantage of the ride's rhythmic swaying, managing to steal a few precious minutes of sleep while the events of the night swirl together in my brain to create vivid and confusing dreams. I awake again with a start when the carriage turns through the main gate of the Palace and drives around to the back door.

I thank the driver but he waves away my offer of payment, saying it's already been taken care of. I remain in the drive, waiting until the carriage has pulled away before I dart through one of the servant's entrances and silently up towards the fourth floor.

The sun cuts cruelly through my vision as I claw my way to consciousness. I force my eyelids open slowly while I fight to adapt to the sunlight streaming full force through the glass wall of my bedroom.

I hug a pillow to my chest and sigh at the memory of last night. I breathe in the scent of the clean linen, thinking of Will in his cramped flat, with his sheets rumpled and smelling of me. Sighing, I roll over and squeeze the pillow tighter, curling my legs up from where they lie tangled in the blankets. My heart constricts at the image of my fingers splayed over his scarred back, his breath warming my neck as he pulls me more urgently against him.

I am cozy and comfortable in my oversized bed surrounded by opulence, but at this moment I want nothing more than to wake up next to him in the dingy flat. To look into those grey eyes while he wraps me in his arms.

Gradually, I become aware of the sounds of the Palace coming alive outside my door. By the height of the sun, I guess it is nearly afternoon, but I'd wager that most people will still be sleeping off the debauchery of the ball.

I am considering rolling over and trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep, when my door opens and Sera sweeps into the room. She transfers the tray she is balancing on her hip to her hands and skillfully pushes the door closed with her heel. I ease myself up onto my elbows, still clutching my pillow as I watch her place the tray down on the desk.

"Good morning." I yawn, turning my head and resting my cheek on the pillow.

"Morning? It's past noon, Miss Abby. Did you sleep well?" Sera comes and perches on the edge of the bed.

I notice that the skin under her eyes is shadowed and I nudge her with my foot. "Well enough, and what about you? Did you have a fun night?" I tease.

A colour rises in her cheeks and I suspect I'm not the only one whose lips still tingle.

"Sera, you wench! Did you get up to anything untoward?" I scold.

She lightly slaps my prodding foot away. "A lady doesn't speak of such things." Her voice is stern but her eyes twinkle and I laugh.

"I'm glad you were able to enjoy yourself," I say fondly.

"It appears that you did as well." Sera rises from the mattress and heads to the washroom. A moment later, I hear water splashing into my washbasin and she reappears.

I sigh and force myself out of bed, padding to the washroom, where I wash my face, taking care to rub around my eyes and remove any leftover traces of kohl. I pat my face dry with a towel and head back into the bedroom, smiling gratefully at Sera as she helps me shrug on a light robe before I take a seat in front of the platter she brought in. My stomach grumbles noisily as the scent of breakfast hits my nostrils.

I devour the food, suddenly ravenous, while Sera lifts the hair from my neck and begins to patiently comb through the tangles. From my seat, I stare out of the window, munching thoughtfully on my fruit.

"How is the rest of the Palace faring today?" I ask conversationally.

Sera snorts. "Poorly, I daresay. Most are still abed and those who are up and about appear the worse for wear. It's been quite a treat for us servants, actually."

I laugh, tossing a strawberry into the air and catching it. "For all their airs and graces, they were certainly a rowdy bunch last night."

"The King is in a right temper. If I were you, I would steer clear of him today."

I freeze, another strawberry halfway to my mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but apparently two dozen prisoners escaped from the gaol last night."

I bite down on the berry, chewing slowly and deliberately. "You don't say. How did that happen?"

"No one knows. The guards were found locked in a cell this morning and not a prisoner was in sight. They don't know where they went or how they got out, but the King is as furious as I've ever seen him, ranting and raving at his Board members and the captain of the guards." Sera finishes combing my hair and gathers it in a loose knot at the nape of my neck, pinning it in place. "Lieutenant Griss thinks someone broke in to free the prisoners. He has sent his guards out to scour the grounds looking for the perpetrator. Fat lot of good it will do, if you ask me. Whoever it was will be long gone by now."

"Long gone," I echo, licking the last traces of strawberry from my swollen lips.