I spend the remainder of the evening trying to keep a low profile. I toss and turn on the flimsy mattress, listening to the continuous rise and fall of various conversations taking place outside my shack. The Wasters with their strange, lilting accents gossip and joke with one another, the steady hum of their voices lulling me in and out of consciousness.

I rest in fits and starts; constantly brought back to abrupt awareness by sudden bursts of panic- either from a noise outside my unlocked door or the beginnings of drifting into a nightmare.

I sigh and roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut tight. My muscles remain tensed, refusing to release me from a constant state of alertness. Despite Jaron's assurance that I am a welcome guest in his camp I can't help but be wary of the ugly looks I've received since arriving here. Not even in my days of masquerading amongst pampered ladies did I ever feel like such an oddity. To these people I am at best a curiosity and at worst a murderer.

My instincts and fight response grapple tiredly against my stressed mind and body until I finally drift into an uneasy sleep.

Something sinister brushes against my back. My breath comes in short bursts as I twist and turn in place, searching wildly for the source. The smell of vomit and blood greets my nostrils; giving me the briefest warning for what is to come.

The whip falls abruptly, tearing me open. I scream, once again unable to make a sound. Great, wracking sobs tear through my chest as the whip lands again and again, the heinous sound of snapping leather piercing the otherwise silent dungeon.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know that I must wake up but the constant bursts of pain render me unable to form a cohesive thought, unable to do anything but scream and writhe.

The whip pierces my shoulder and I jolt upright, gasping and choking.

A dark figure stands over my bed, tall and stooped as he draws his hand away. With shaking hands I grope for my dagger, blinking sweat or tears out of my eyes before I realize who it is.

The old man from my dinner with Jaron, Cade, waits patiently for me to gather my bearings. My heart still pounds heavily in my chest and I can't help but be grateful to him for bringing me out of my nightmare. I swallow bodily, wanting to speak but incapable of discerning my conscious thoughts from my subconscious memories.

"It's all right, take your time." Cade's rough voice is soft in the dim light. "When you're ready, come join me for a cup of tea." I see a flash of his white teeth before he steps outside, disappearing around the corner of the shack.

I push my hair back from my face, willing my mind back into motion. My scars still tingle with the memory of the nightmare. My tunic has slipped down my shoulder and I finger the marking left from the King's blade, frowning at the rough sensation beneath my fingertips.

Something catches in my throat and I stand abruptly; the prospect of a cup of tea with a strange Waster suddenly incredibly appealing compared to sitting alone with only my scars and memories for company.

Cade is waiting for me outside. Wordlessly I fall into step next to him as we walk into one of the dark tunnels branching off of the main space and emerge in another, smaller area with fewer of the clapboard shacks.

In the centre of the room is an enclosed booth, its shoddy exterior speaking of being an original relic from the days when the tube was used by our old civilizations. Cade leads me to the booth and gestures me inside, pulling a sheet of metal across the entranceway to give us some privacy.

"Please, sit."

I glance around the small room, noting a neatly-made bed pushed up against one wall and a small stack of cushions against the other. I select a cushion and sink down into a seated position, resting with my back against the metal wall and watching Cade as he busies himself over a small gas stove. A worn, threadbare rug has been laid out across the floor and the warm, herbal aroma emanating from the tea gives the small space a cozy feel. My eyes nearly drift closed again before I start, my heart pounding with the remnants of my latest nightmare.

A chipped, steaming cup appears before me and I accept it gratefully, holding the drink up to my nose and breathing in deeply.

Cade lowers himself onto a cushion opposite, folding his long limbs until he is sitting cross-legged. His back is ramrod straight and his silver hair falls about his ears like a cloud as he settles into position. I notice the way his long fingers curl elegantly around the teacup and wonder how the hurried man I met at dinner could suddenly seem so at peace.

Up close I realize that he isn't as old as he first appeared- he is probably still in his mid-fifties. The Wasters, with their dark, sun-baked skin and sharp features appear ageless; at the same time both wisened and youthful.

Cade glances up and sees me watching him. The creases around his eyes and mouth deepen as he nods towards me.

"Drink." He says. "It will help you sleep."

I take a heavy gulp of the tea, scorching my tongue but savouring the way the hot liquid coats my throat, made dry by my soundless screams. The flavour is at once rich and light, familiar and strange, tasting of sun-baked stone and spices.

Cade is watching me, his dark eyes seemingly missing nothing. "Interesting."

I swallow, wincing as the drink burns my esophagus. "What is?"

"The way in which we choose to drink the bode tea is very telling." He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows at me.

I glance down at the empty cup in my hand, then back up at him.

"You drank the tea immediately, without a thought for how warm it is or what was in it." Cade takes a careful taste of his own drink, sipping loudly.

"Oh." I feel slightly embarrassed. "If that was poison I probably deserve whatever I have coming to me."

He chuckles, the gravelly notes to his voice making for a rich, throaty sound that fills the small space. "It is quite safe to drink."

"In that case, I hope you don't mind if I help myself to another."

Cade pours me another cupful, speaking through the steam rising between us. "The way you drink tells me that you are reckless. You act impulsively and without thought for consequence."

He places the pot on the ground between us and sits back, waiting.

"I-" Startled, I am not sure how to respond. "I suppose that I-"

"It was not a question." He interrupts me. "It was a statement."

"Right." I take another drink, slowly this time, suddenly extremely conscious of my actions. Sitting in this cozy relic with a strange man and his tea feels incredibly surreal. The silence lengthens and my tired mind begins to drift. I think briefly of Will, wishing that I could tell him that I am being treated well so that I could alleviate his worries about me.

"I assume these qualities have caused you trouble in the past." Cade's voice breaks through my thoughts and I blink, startled.

"You could say that." I consider Will's request right before we launched Phoenix, when he anticipated my tendencies to rush headlong into danger and attempted to curb my impulses before they took hold. The familiar knot of guilt twists in my stomach and I look back up towards Cade, biting my lip.

Cade sits perfectly still amongst the steamy haze. "Fear holds many back, but it pushes you forward."

His mention of fear causes my muscles to contract involuntarily. I feel a flush of shame, remembering acutely the abject terror of my nightmares and the days I spent locked in the Palace gaol. Fear may push me forward but when I sleep, it controls me entirely.

"Did you already know that I have nightmares?" My voice sounds as though it is coming from someone else and I burn with curiosity for the answer.

"Luca told me. He is curious about you." He takes another sip. "Many of us are."

"I don't see why. I'm really not terribly interesting." I slump against the wall of the shack, rotating my cup and watching the loose leaves swirl patterns in the murky liquid.

"The Miners have always been a great mystery to us." Cade speaks frankly and I allow my guard to slip slightly as I peer at him over the rim of my cup.

"There isn't much we are taught about Wasters, either." I admit. "From the time I was born it was to be simply understood; we must fight the evil people in the desert who wish to harm us." I sigh, wondering how in my selfishness I never thought to question the war or wonder about the people we were fighting.

He nods. "Our conflict with one another is a part of who we are. We identify with our differences."

"Could that ever change?"

"I may seem very wise to you, but there is much I don't know." It takes me a moment to realize that he is teasing and I allow a small smile to pull at my lips.

He smiles back, offering me another refill. I watch his graceful movements in the small space and chance a question. "Are Luca and Jaron your sons?"

"In a way." He arranges himself back against the cushion. "A sickness took our camp when they were young and the three boys were left behind."

Three boys. Jaron, Luca and the missing brother.

"I took them in, raised them as my own." He smiles again, seemingly to himself. "They have given my life greater meaning than I could have ever hoped for."

A heavy thud sounds in my chest and I wonder if he can hear it. Since dispatching the King my family's death has weighed less heavily on my mind, but moments like these still leave me with the familiar gaping pit of loss.

Something must have shown on my face because Cade leans forward, concern etched across his lined features.

"You have lost as well." Again it is a statement, not a question.

My family. Edmun.

Lara.

"You seek to belong somewhere." His throaty voice floats amongst the lingering herbal aroma. I glance up, searching for him through the haze.

Meg is a Princess. Will is a soldier. I am a thief. An orphan. A reckless Runner.

"I belong to the City." My gaze is locked with his but my tone is unsure.

"You are loyal to your City." He responds gravely. "But you are also constrained by it."

I recall my anger at Will when he asked that I follow his orders. The guilt when I went back on my word. The freedom of sprinting across the rooftops towards the battle at the wall. The exhilaration of seeing the City fall away as Phoenix lifted us into the air.

"I am constrained by nothing." I tell him, more certain this time.

"Is that so?" His bushy brows are raised. "Then sleep should be simple for you."

A shudder passes through me despite the warmth of the small, cushioned room. "I cannot control what I see when I sleep."

"That is because you so forcefully push aside fear in your waking life." He looks at me meaningfully, his dark eyes bright despite the dimness of the room. "But our fears will always find us."

"How can I stop it?"

A sad smile plays on his lips. "These nightmares are a part of who you are. You can embrace them, allow them to fester within you, or release them."

I rub my forehead, seeking to alleviate the tension I suddenly feel building between my eyes. "You speak in riddles."

He chuckles softly. "Luca used to tell me the same thing. After the sickness took his parents he had the most terrible dreams. He would awake in the night calling for them, sweating and shaking."

I imagine tall, arrogant Luca as a small child and feel a stab of sympathy for the parentless boy he once was.

"How did he move past it?" I ask.

"I'm not certain he ever did." Cade runs his long fingers over his chin thoughtfully. "Luca is sensitive; he holds on to his memories and his pain. Jaron was always the sensible one. He is able to differentiate his feelings from his actions; it is what makes him a strong leader."

I nod, draining the last of my tea. "And what of the third brother?"

"Noah." He suddenly appears older, wearier and I feel badly for having mentioned anything. "He is kindness personified. He was a confidante to Jaron and an advocate for Luca. Without him, I fear the boys are lost."

My eyelids begin to grow heavy and I force myself to stay awake, completely absorbed by the story of this family. "We didn't take anyone."

"No, I don't believe you did." Some of the tension lifts from my heart at his words and I fight another wave of tiredness.

"Does Jaron believe me?" I press further.

"I do not know. Jaron wants nothing more than to do what is right for his people. What that means, I am not yet sure."

I slouch back against the cool metal wall, feeling complacent that this is the only assuredness I will receive for the time being.

"You should get some rest now." Cade unfolds his long body and makes to stand, helping me to my feet. "The tea should help you sleep peacefully tonight."

"Thank you." I hope the words are enough.

"You are welcome, Kay." His lined, tired eyes crinkle at the corners, emanating friendliness and I feel a rush of gratitude towards him.

His dry hand squeezes mine once before I slip out of the booth, the strange haze of the bode tea wrapping me securely and promising a restful sleep. I float on light feet back towards my shack through a fog of confusing feelings as I consider Cade's words.

Fear holds many back, but it pushes you forward.