I arrive at my attic in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The journey from the Palace, through the Court and into the depths of the Commons took infinitely longer than usual. I stuck to the shadows and back alleys as much as I could, feeling exposed on the ground. More than once I glanced up the side of a building and yearned to make my way home over my rooftops, the ever-present throb in my knee keeping me from them.

My eyes are barely open by the time I reach my dilapidated home. I make my way up the stairs to my room, distantly aware of my landlady clutching a robe around her wiry frame and caterwauling at my appearance.

When I reach the door of my flat, I raise my hand and knock lightly, resting my forehead on the wood frame.

I slump forward as the door opens a crack, my weary body finally succumbing to everything it has been through. I hear Lara exclaim as I fall into her, nestling against her neck and breathing in the familiar scent of home.

"Oh my gods, Kay." She slings my arm around her neck and helps me to the bed, laying me down gently and swinging my legs so that I'm laid out flat.

I give an involuntary yelp when she moves my knee and she jumps back in shock.

"Where does it hurt?" she asks, frantically.

"Most places," I groan, curling up into a ball on the bed. I gesture toward a trunk pushed against the wall. "Could you get me something to wear? I need to get out of this dress."

"Is that what you call it?" She rises obediently and scurries over to the trunk, sifting through its contents. "I'll get you something comfortable to sleep in."

"No, not sleep." I grimace and push myself up into a sitting position, rotating my left leg gingerly and studying it. "I need to go down to the Beacon."

"Are you kidding me? You look as though you've been run over by a carriage."

I crack a smile, immediately regretting it when I feel a bruise pull at the side of my face. "You're not far from the truth." I nod at the shirt and pants she holds in her hand. "That right there will do."

She helps me pull the destroyed green dress over my head, tsk-ing over the state of it, muttering about wastefulness.

I ignore her and reach for the pants. I begin pulling them on, then flinch as Lara gasps, "Oh, Kay."

I follow her gaze, glancing down at my body. She was right when she said I look as though I was run over. Large, ugly bruises tinged with shades of purple and red cover my torso, one particularly nasty-looking contusion wrapping around my ribcage. That explains what I felt crack down there.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I say, absently. Together, we manage to get the pants and shirt on, effectively covering the worst of my damage.

I tear a long strip of fabric off what remains of the green dress, stretching it out and wrapping it tightly around my knee. I'll have to get some more of that medicine from Will.

I reach my hand up and Lara reluctantly helps me to my feet, watching with a tense wariness as I test the weight on my leg and hobble over to the washbasin.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asks.

I splash the water on my face and arms, scrubbing as best I can around the cuts in an effort to remove the bulk of the gravel I picked up from the gaol's roof.

"It's a long story. Boring, mostly. I promise I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

I pat my face dry with a towel and move to pull on a spare pair of boots, tucking my trusty dagger down inside. The boots are a size too small, but there's nothing for it at the moment. Once I find Will and make certain Meg is safe, I'll have to find a new place for Lara and I to hide out. It isn't safe to stay here.

"I really think you should be resting," Lara says as she watches me, twisting her hands anxiously.

"Trust me, I'll be dead to the world, nestled in bed as soon as I finish this." I say. I glance back at my friend as I pull open the door, but Lara's gaze has already diverted over to the once-beautiful dress crumbled into rags on the bed.

I say nothing as I slip back into the hallway, leaving her to it.

Feeling slightly refreshed, I walk to the Beacon as quickly as I can while keeping a wary eye out for any guards. Luckily, at this late hour and so deep in the Commons, I come across no one halfway respectable-looking.

The pub is darkened, occupied by a handful of miners. A few low-burning lamps hold dominion over the scattered tables. I look for Will, feeling a pinch of anxiety when I fail to catch sight of him.

I spy Marc over by the bar. His eyes widen in shock beneath his mop of blond hair but he stands and hurries toward me, gripping my arm and escorting me firmly over to a darkened table in the corner.

Neither of us looks up as Samus drops off a pint, turning back to the bar before we can pay.

Marc glances around while I drink greedily, closing my eyes at the sensation of the cool liquid coating my dry throat.

"You shouldn't be here," he says when I lower my mug. "They're looking for you."

"I know." I wipe my arm over my upper lip.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look terrible. What happened?"

"Have you seen Will?" I ask, ignoring his question.

He stares at me, considering. "Tonight? No."

"I need to stay here until he shows up."

"I see." Marc remains silent as I take another sip of my drink.

I hear the door swing open and glance up, frowning.

"How well do you know him?" Marc asks.

I swivel back to the table, taken aback by the question. "Will? Pretty well, I guess. Why?"

"I don't think you do." He reaches across the table and grabs hold of my hand.

I look down in surprise but don't move.

"What are you talking about?"

"I have to tell you something, Kay. I shouldn't have kept this from you, but I was hoping that Will would speak up first."

"Tell me what?"

Marc sighs, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "I figured out how Will I know each other. I served with him in the guard. He isn't who you think he is."

I shake my head, drawing my hand away from his. "I already know that he worked for the King. He regrets his time as a guard, as I'm sure you do."

"Did he tell you what they made us do?"

I rub my forehead as I fight a wave of exhaustion, thinking. "He said that you arrested people, bullied them. Commoners, mostly. Like I said, he isn't proud of it."

"It's worse than that."

I slam my hand down on the table with more force than I intended, frustration and tiredness getting the better of me. "Whatever it is, Marc, I don't care. We all make mistakes; what's in the past is past." I take a deep breath, wincing at Marc's sympathetic expression. I take up my tankard again. "I'm sorry. It's been a long night and I've had enough gossip and intrigue to last a lifetime."

"We were there. Will and I. The night of the fire."

I freeze, ale halfway to my lips. "What?"

"I couldn't place where I'd seen you before. It wasn't until you made your speech at the tavern and I had a chance to speak with Will that everything finally fell into place. We were all in the flat that night, and you were the skinny little red-headed girl."

The stein slips from my hand. Beer fizzes over the surface of the table, but neither of us makes a move to clean it.

I can't say anything. I can't be certain if I am thinking, if I'm breathing, as Marc continues to talk, his words pounding over me like a heavy dust storm.

"We were just kids, both of us. We were serving our first year in the guard when our troop was called to shake down a rebellion leader. I honestly thought it was going to be a typical arrest." He speaks quickly, as if that will soften the blow. "It wasn't until we got there and Captain Harmen ordered us to herd all of the family members into the front room that I had any idea of what was really going on."

Hiding under the bed, watching the shiny boots of the guard as my mother is dragged away.

"I am so, so sorry, Kay. It wasn't right to keep this from you."

The heat of the fire. The blood pooling on the floor. Falling from the open window. Looking up to see someone watching me from inside my old home.

Will was there.

Will killed them.

"Look, you've obviously been through a lot tonight. Do you need somewhere to stay?" Marc reaches for my hand again and I snatch it away, holding it against my chest as if burned. I stare at him incredulously, watching as his bright eyes recover from a look of hurt to dart at something over my shoulder.

I turn slowly in my seat, following his gaze.

Will, his handkerchief loosened and his vest unbuttoned, spots us and starts picking his way over to our table.

I stare at him as he draws closer, a faint hum filling my ears.

"Kay, thank the gods you're here." His expression is one of relief, then confusion as he takes in my face. "What is it?"

His gaze flickers to Marc sitting across from me. Slowly, realization dawns over his handsome features.

"Kay." His voice is strangled. "Can we go somewhere and talk privately? Please?"

"You were there," I hear myself say, the humming in my ears increasing to a high-pitched wail.

"I was going to tell you. Please, come with me. Let's not talk about this here—I can explain." Tentatively, he reaches out a hand to me.

I flinch back. "You knew." The voice coming from me is not my own, originating from somewhere deep and dark and dead.

"I am so sorry, I am so incredibly sorry. I wanted to tell you, but how..." He swallows. "How could I tell you something like that?"

I don't say anything. I fixate on the ale pooling off the edge of the table and falling in steady drips down onto the floor.

"Is Meg safe?" I ask, finally.

No one says anything. I wait patiently, counting the droplets.

"Yes, she's safe."

"Good." I push back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. I keep my eyes averted and shoulder my way past him.

"Kay, wait."

I ignore him, slipping between the last of the tables and the stragglers before pushing blindly through the door.

I have turned down the narrow alleyway next to the pub when Will's hand encircles my arm, spinning me around to face him. It is then that something within me shatters completely, fractured and irreplaceable.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, quietly.

"I wanted to. I was going to."

"How could you keep something like this from me? Didn't you realize that I would find out eventually? What was your plan then?"

"I didn't have one."

"Come on, Will," I scoff. "You always have a plan."

He flinches at my tone. "Not this time. I have never spoken about that night to anyone. I never expected to see Marc again, and I certainly never thought I would see you again."

"Had you done your job correctly, you never would have." I wrench my arm from his grasp and stagger when he grips me again, his eyes burning into mine.

"How can you say that? You must understand how much I hate myself for following those orders." His expression is twisted in anguish, his voice shaking.

"You hating yourself isn't going to bring my family back," I cry, shoving him away from me.

We stand across from each other on either side of the darkened alleyway, breathing heavily. Despite the pain tearing at my insides, I can't help but remember how we stood in similar positions only a few months past, when he pulled me from a wall and demanded that I join his rebellion.

He rubs his hand across his short hair, looking at me helplessly. "I'm so sorry, Kay."

I stand impassively, regarding him as I feel the fight draining from my body. "When you realized I was there that night, why didn't you just come out and say it?"

He takes a long time in answering, ever-careful. "Because I thought that if you knew what I had done, you would lose your focus. I didn't think that telling you right away was worth risking the rebellion. I needed you." A muscle twitches near his jaw. "I still need you."

I stare at him, the words that have always come so easily now lost. Realization dawns slowly as I recognize the steely defiance in his eyes.

"Right," I say, finally. "Right. The rebellion."

"This is bigger than you and me, Kay. One step at a time, remember? You've already got the Princess free of the Palace, you've uncovered the King's plot, you've managed to save yourself. Now we just need to turn the people toward our cause and launch an attack. We can make things right." Will speaks quickly and moves closer. "I know I made a mistake, but I was a different person back then. I swear, I would never do anything to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," I say softly. Shaking my head, I take a step back, stiffening when I hit the wall behind me. "You promised that nothing would change."

"Nothing has to change. I can make it up to you. Please, let's go back to my flat. We can talk." He brings a trembling hand up to my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.

I stay perfectly still, blinking my dry eyes up at him. After a moment I pull his hand away, keeping hold of it as I roll up his sleeve. There, illuminated by the flickering lamplight is the scar: a long, jagged ridge cut by a girl in a burning flat. I know without looking that his other arm has a fresher marking, a scar made by the Runner.

"I can't do this," I say, hollowly. My eyes skip over his features, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. "From now on, this is about the rebellion. Nothing more. Never again."

I push past him, ignoring the feeling of his fingers trailing down my arm.

Shaking on my bad leg, I stop after a few steps and turn to look back. Will's shoulders are slumped in defeat as he watches me, his face partially obscured by the shadows.

"I loved you, you know." I feel surprisingly little as I say the words, just an acute sense of finality to anything we may have once been to each other.

"I know."

I stare at him for a second longer, willing my heart to harden before I tear my eyes from his and shuffle back down the alley.