The Wasters' habit of taking a very long time to speak becomes more infuriating as the seconds drag on. The past day has been a true exercise in restraint as once again I find myself biting my tongue in an effort to quell my natural instinct to fill the silence with a biting remark.

The oversized chieftain finally nods towards me, ever so imperceptibly. "Welcome."

I blink. "Thank you." In my nervousness I swallow a comment about the less-than-stellar hospitality I've experienced thus far.

"My brother tells me that you are an interesting talent. Please, eat and let us discuss what has brought you here." He picks up a knife and fork and indicates that I do the same.

I pick up my fork and knife gratefully. The meat is tough but flavourful, unfamiliar to my tongue. I neglect the skills Will taught me about eating as a lady and shove helping after helping into my mouth, relishing in the feeling of quieting my empty stomach.

When I've had my fill I sigh and sit back, running my wrist across my mouth. I glance across the table and notice the chief looking back at me, chewing thoughtfully.

"Delicious food." I say, by way of conversation.

He makes a gesture and someone refills my plate. I allow a grin to pull at my face and dig in again, eating more slowly and carefully this time. Typical that the first impression I will give the Waster chief is one of abject gluttony.

"Your name is Kay." His deep voice cuts through the scrape of cutlery against tin plates and I look up, putting my fork down and giving him my full attention.

"Yes," I swallow. "Kay Knight."

He nods. "I am Jaron. I am the chief, here at Pic dil Cir."

I wonder fleetingly how many Waster camps exist and how they vary in size, storing my questions away for later.

"Jaron. Thank you for meeting with me." My eyes dart between Rowan and Luca, both sitting in silence as they watch our exchange. "I assume someone has told you why my friends and I are looking for you?"

"What I have been told is that you are under the impression that we are interested in negotiating peace with your people." He tilts his head, the gesture reminding me of Luca's curious mannerisms. "My advisors believe that your only use is as a hostage. They think that we can exchange you in return for our missing brethren."

"And what is it that you think?" I ask.

"It is no secret that the Wasters and Miners have always been enemies." Jaron leans back slightly in his seat and rubs his scruffy chin. I notice that his large hands have been wrapped in strips of leather and derive that this is a man who is very comfortable holding a weapon.

"Our ancestors have been enemies, yes," I respond hurriedly. "But I am not my kin and I can promise that I do not have a personal quarrel with you." I bite my lip, cursing my tongue and wishing I possessed some of the cool restraint that Meg wields so effortlessly.

"Do you suppose then, Kay, that we forget our old fights and move past it with no ill will?" Jaron's tone straddles the dangerous line between curious and accusing. I force my strained nerves to steady and speak carefully.

"We cannot and should not forget the past." I hear myself say, thinking of my scars. "Both the Wasters and the City have survived post-Burn because we understood the price of repeating our mistakes. I am suggesting that we remember what's happened but try to move forward."

"And what of our missing people? I have no guarantee that your City is not responsible for their capture."

"We will help you find your people." I make the promise without thinking, eager to press on. "Come with me to the City, meet my Queen. You can look around; see for yourself that no one is being held there. Make peace with us and you will have our resources at your disposal."

Rowan and Luca glance towards Jaron, seemingly as ready to hear his response as I am. The tight set of Rowan's shoulders suggests that she still doesn't trust me and I make a mental note to steer clear of her.

Jaron's dark eyes flash with something unreadable and I stiffen, my fingers curling around the edge of the table.

"What exactly is your role in this City, Kay?" His question catches me by surprise.

"I-" I begin, not really sure how to answer.

The door behind me swings open suddenly, the scrape of rusted hinges startling. An older man hurries in, swathed in layers of sand-coloured fabric. He is tall and slender with a mess of silver curls flying about his head.

"Apologies, Jaron. I lost track of the hour." The man's voice is low and grating, as though he has always existed in these ruins below the ground. He slides into the chair to my left with barely a glance in my direction and begins eating immediately. I am surprised to see the way his sprightly gestures betray the hunched and somewhat frail form.

"It's fine, Cade." I think I see a look of annoyance cross Jaron's strong features.

"Is this her?" The man, Cade, asks through a mouthful of food.

"Kay." I speak for myself. I consider offering him a handshake in greeting but am concerned about getting in between this flustered stranger and his food.

"Kay is a letter, not a name." Cade says matter-of-factly and my eyes dart to Luca, who hides a smirk.

"If you're through, Cade, I would like to continue." Jaron's low voice commands attention and Cade waves dismissively, returning his focus to his meal.

I feel a blush work its way up my neck as Jaron turns back to me expectantly. How to explain my role to the chief of these Wastelanders when I myself am unsure of my purpose?

"I am an...ambassador. For the Queen." I say haltingly, flustered at how hesitant I sound.

Jaron has clearly noticed as well. His brows raise skeptically. "What does that mean?"

"I represent her interests." I flinch inwardly and try again. "Queen Megra can't be everywhere, so she sends me to speak for her."

"Your Queen shows cowardice by sending you in her stead." Jaron states and I feel my hands ball into fists under the table.

"There are many ways to be brave." I tell him. "My Queen has led an army of oppressed citizens and usurped her father's reign. She has fixed a broken City and now she is trying to fix our ties to you; she is one of the most courageous people I know."

Jaron's leather-clad fingers drum on the table. "Clearly you are a loyal and close friend of this Queen, but I wonder if that is your only purpose."

I furrow my brows, confused. Jaron glances over at Luca and they exchange a look before Jaron turns back to me.

"My brother tells me that you climbed on the outside of your air machine while it was flying in order to repair it." He tilts his head slightly. "He has also said that you risked your own life to save both your comrade and my brother before the ship crashed. Where did you learn these skills?"

The blush creeps higher up my neck. "I don't know." I reply before continuing quickly. "I mean, I've just always been a good climber." I look back and forth between the Wasters regarding me, anxious that they should find my abilities suspicious.

There is a scuffling behind me and I turn to see Snake turning in place, groping at his belt as he searches for something. I curse inwardly at his terrible timing.

"What is it?" Jaron raises his voice to Snake.

"Her dagger. I had it right here in my belt and now it's gone." Snake's face grows red and I turn back to the table slowly, keeping my expression impassive.

Luca raises an eyebrow and his gaze darts down towards my boot. Jaron catches his brother's gesture and looks at me expectantly.

I consider my options briefly before sighing and reaching beneath the table. I withdraw the dagger and put it down between myself and Jaron before sitting back and crossing my arms in annoyance, glowering.

No one says anything for a moment and I tap my foot impatiently. This entire situation has been a disaster. Some ambassador I am.

To my surprise the corner of Jaron's mouth tilts upwards slightly. He reaches for the dagger and examines it, turning it over in his large hands.

"Finely made." He remarks. "Does it have sentimental value?"

"It was my father's." I tell him.

He nods and stands to hand it back to me. I accept the dagger cautiously, uncertain if he really means for me to have it. He waits, taking his seat again as I place the weapon back in my boot. Behind me I can hear Snake grumbling incoherently.

"So, you're a thief." Jaron remarks. I feel a small smile pull at my cheeks, amused that he has landed on the most accurate definition of who I am.

"Yes, I am a thief." I agree. "I am not a leader, a politician or a warrior. I am simply a thief who believes that the mistakes of the past can be rectified."

"I like her." Cade's hoarse voice breaks through the din. "She's no good, just like you boys."

Jaron raises his chin, seemingly ignoring Cade. Despite his indifference I can sense him mulling over the older man's words and wonder about the nature of their relationship.

"I will think on this." He says eventually and I can feel the tightness in my shoulders dissipating somewhat. "In the meantime, you are welcome in our camp. My man will be close by should you require anything." He gestures towards Snake and I know that he will be less a tour guide than a guard.

"I will accompany her." Luca speaks up for the first time, startling me.

I eye him suspiciously. I would be grateful not to spend any more time with Snake but the knowledge that it was Luca who requested Will's execution still weighs heavy on my mind. He seems eager to be of use to Jaron-his earnestness reminds me acutely of the way I would follow my brother and his friends.

Luca rises to his feet and makes his way a bit unsteadily towards the door. I follow, noticing that his leg has been re-bandaged and his matted hair has been combed neatly and twisted into a loose knot. He leads me through the door and I glance back once to see Rowan's dark head bent towards Jaron, her narrowed eyes regarding my retreating figure suspiciously.

I fall into step with Luca as he makes his way between the tightly-packed ramshackle shelters. Fires burn inside various barrels as Wasters gather in groups, talking and laughing with one another. Two small children chase one another between us, their youthful shouts echoing off the ruined walls.

"How long have you been down here?" I ask him.

"Our ancestors used the tube for shelter during the earliest days of the Burn." Luca explains.

I nod, watching an old woman sitting in a rusted chair outside of a scrap-metal house. Her wrinkled face and sharp gaze follow my progress closely while her skilled fingers work efficiently at mending the fabric on her lap.

"You've created something amazing." I tell him.

Luca's sharp gaze slides over to me, his dark blue eyes unreadable in the dimness. The light from various fires flicker across his dark features as he searches my face for traces of insincerity.

Seemingly discovering no fault in my statement he continues, "Pic dil Cir is one of the largest camps. Many Wasters trek great distances across the desert in order to follow my brother's leadership."

If Jaron's agenda is to do away with my City then this news is extremely worrying. However, it also means that he is potentially the only person Meg would have to persuade towards peace.

Luca points out the various amenities littered throughout the space. He shows me the stockroom and the traders, explaining that there is a bathing pool located outside. Several dark tunnels branch out from the main space, which I guess lead up to the surface and down into the ominous tracks below.

He halts outside of an inconspicuous metal shack. "You'll sleep here." He instructs.

I peer inside, noting that it is completely bare save for a single thin mattress. Nonetheless it is a vast improvement from the tiny, dark closet downstairs.

"Great." I say, straightening. I glance around at the suspicious-looking Wasters littering the underground cavern. "Do you think I'll be... safe... here?" I choose my words carefully. If any of these people truly believe that I am in some way responsible for the disappearance of their loved ones then I could be in serious danger.

Luca appears unbothered. "Jaron has given strict instructions that you not be harmed. The punishment for breaking an express order by our chief is severe; no one will attempt anything with you."

"That's reassuring." I allow a trace of sarcasm to drip into my voice.

Luca gives me one of his strange looks and I find myself feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "You never thanked me." He says, eventually.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "For what?"

"For saving you and your friends back in the desert." He says, smirking ever-so-slightly. I feel a jolt of annoyance at his arrogance.

"Are you suggesting that I thank you for halting the execution you requested in the first place?" I ask incredulously.

"An execution is the standard punishment for our enemies who commit an act of war." Luca crosses his arms as the smug look slips off his face.

I sigh, suddenly tired. "I really can't go through this with you again, Luca. I know you understand that us returning you to your people was not a malicious act and as I recall, I was the one who saved your sorry ass right before we plowed into the side of a dune, so don't be telling me that I owe you anything." I lift my chin and meet his gaze. "If anything, you should be thanking me."

"It is no small thing, bringing a Miner into our camp. It is your good fortune that it was me that vouched for you. A Waster of lesser standing would not have had the influence to bring you here safely and protect your friends at the same time."

I roll my eyes. "You won't be receiving my thanks for doing the only decent thing, Luca."

His attitude combined with the reverence he has for Jaron stirs some of my own memories and I feel a flash of jealousy, resentful that this self-righteous Waster should still have an older brother while mine is gone and buried.

The tendons in his jaw flex. "You should tread carefully, Kay. My brother hasn't yet decided if you are to be trusted."

"I realize that." I tell him, trying to ignore the now-familiar feeling of anxiety working its way up my spine. "But I am fairly sure that at the very least, you trust me."

He doesn't respond immediately, raising one tightly muscled and tattooed arm to scratch behind his neck. "I'm not entirely certain of that." He says finally. "What I know is that since I have met you I have witnessed some truly remarkable actions. Your friends may not realize what an asset you are but I can certainly appreciate it."

I blink. This was not what I was expecting.

"I can't explain it exactly, but I think you might be the key to us getting our people back." His dark eyes flash in the firelight.

I draw a breath, processing his words. "Who have you lost?" I ask him, quietly.

Something crosses his face and he turns to leave, pausing momentarily.

"A brother." In the dim light I cannot see his face but I can hear the anguish in his voice. I feel my heart twist, memories of Frye swirling through my mind as I watch Luca's retreating figure, sliding soundlessly away and disappearing into the crowd.