The bright sun makes it difficult to see clearly. I strain to make out the features of our attackers, squinting into the glare cast by Phoenix. There are roughly a dozen people spread out around us, menacing with their polished steel swords aimed at our throats.

We are frozen in place for either a moment or an eternity. A familiar voice sounds at the edges of my hearing and I whip my head around, searching for its source.

"Kay!"

I blink forcefully, relief spreading through my body. "It's us!" I yell back at Will. "Lower your weapons!"

The swords don't waiver. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine!" I glance towards Jaron, noting the way his leather-wrapped knuckles furl over the hilt of his deadly staff. On my other side Luca has his bow notched and pointed at Will. "Gods' sake." Exasperation gets the better of me. "Will everyone please relax?"

Will gives a signal and the City soldiers finally bring down their swords. A few seconds later the Wasters do the same, straightening out of their attack positions but remaining wary.

I ignore the nervous shuffling around me and tear across the sand towards the outskirts of the circle. Will sheaths his sword, catching me as I fling myself at him, lifting me bodily up and holding me tightly against his thick chest. My heart is in my throat as I clutch at him, my arms knotted around the back of his neck.

"Gods, I was so scared." His husky voice murmurs next to my ear before he draws back and kisses me, his hands buried deeply in my knotted hair.

When we come apart he rests his forehead against mine. I can feel the slightest tremor in his shoulders and whisper a quiet assurance to him. "It's all right. We're all right."

He inhales heavily and almost instantly composes himself, drawing up to his full height and looking over my head at the gathered Wasters and Miners.

Jaron steps forward, making a point of keeping his spear in hand, albeit lowered.

"You are the commander." It isn't a question.

"I am." Will releases me and moves towards the centre of the group. "Commander Will Cain, at your service." He extends a hand to Jaron, his posture ramrod straight and formal.

There is a tense moment as Jaron studies Will's outstretched palm. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that every one of Jaron's moves is as careful as Will's own. This extended pause is merely another deliberate tactic by the Waster chief.

He finally dains to reach forward and clasp Will's hand. They draw apart, remaining eye-to-eye as they consider one another. I glance around the circle, realizing that every Waster and Miner man and woman present are forcefully rigid, never looking away from the scene.

"Commander. I am Jaron, Chief of Camp Pic dil Cir. I am here to discuss the terms for meeting with your Queen." Jaron finally speaks and I don't bother trying to keep my face straight, instead smiling widely at his words.

If Will is taken-aback he hides it well. "I am pleased to offer them." He glances around the dusty hilltop. "I regret that I can't offer you a place to sit."

"This suits me fine." Jaron's sentence overlaps Will's and I notice a twinge of indignation cross Will's features. Jaron smirks slightly, widening his stance and looking every inch as though he was born of this desert.

"As you wish." Will raises his chin. "As a guest of the Queen you will be permitted an escort of your own choosing." He glances over Jaron's shoulder at the rest of the Wasters. "This appears to be adequate."

"We will bring our weapons." Jaron jumps ahead, one brow raised as he awaits Will's response.

Will's cheek twitches ever-so-imperceptibly. "That is permissible."

"And what else?"

"You agree to a meeting of peace. Regardless of the differences we have with one another, you will submit to discussing them in an open forum with our Queen. Your weapons will be laid aside when in the presence of Queen Megra." At this Will looks pointedly at Jaron down the length of his nose. "That point is non-negotiable."

Jaron's smirk freezes on his face, disguising whatever he may privately think of the situation. He brings a hand up, drumming his fingers casually over the stubble on his chin.

"If you are finished, Commander, I have some terms of my own."

"By all means." Will's borderline-friendly demeanor has returned.

"I will be upfront. We have reason to believe that you are holding Wasters inside your City. Myself and my comrades must be given full access to your camp so that we may search for them."

Will pauses. I can tell he is thinking about the implications of allowing Wasters free range of the City. I can almost see the wheels in his head churning as he weighs the possibilities, eventually landing on the only possible answer.

"Agreed."

Jaron nods tightly, allowing the pointed tip of his spear to touch the ground. "Agreed."

A discernable feeling of relief emanates through the crowd. The soldiers sheath their swords and step out of the shallow holes dug around the perimeter of the circle. Will moves off to speak further with Jaron and I shake my head at the sight of Marc emerging and brushing sand from his feathery hair. He lumbers towards me, a proud expression on his face. No doubt using the holes to catch us by surprise had been his idea.

"Glad you're all right, Red." He pulls me quickly to his side, giving me a squeeze.

"Same to you." The days spent in the sun have darkened Marc's olive complexion, causing scattered freckles to litter the bridge of his nose. "What have you lot been up to without me?"

"Digging and sunbathing, mostly." He looks behind us towards the crowd of Wasters and Miners. The two groups stand purposefully apart and sneak curious glances at one another.

"Is Phoenix ready to fly?" I ask.

"Ready, willing and able." He is visibly chuffed. "There was minimal damage to the hull and we were able to recover most of the helium tanks. A quick patch job and she is prepared to take to the skies once again."

I grin, thankful that we will be spared the drudgery of more desert marching. "So, you did manage to do something productive with your time."

"We had to keep the commander busy somehow." Marc's eyes dart towards where Will is engaged in conversation with Jaron and Rowan. "I've never seen him like this before, Kay. Not even when you were arrested."

My heart gives a painful twist and I bite my lip. "What do you mean?"

"Every day he seemed to fight a one-man battle. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he would continually make plans to rescue you before calling them off at the last minute. He wouldn't speak to anyone except to give orders." Marc checks over his shoulder again before lowering his voice to me. "Thank the gods you showed up when you did. He was barely holding himself together."

My stomach lurches with guilt, remembering acutely my time spent lounging with Luca in the oasis. While I was being taught to hunt and cooking freshly-caught hare over a fire Will was undergoing some kind of mental torture. How could I have put him through that so soon after my imprisonment in the Palace gaol?

"You need to talk to him." Marc shakes his shaggy head sadly. "He's in a bad way."

I watch as Will orders a distribution of the airship's rations to the Wasters. Despite his torn uniform and unkempt beard he appears calm and organized. Whatever turmoil he is feeling, it would never be evident to an outside observer.

I give Marc's arm a squeeze before moving off to grab a portion of the rations, striding smoothly past Luca. I haven't forgotten our fight and I don't intend to be friendly until I'm good and ready. Will finds me leaning against the side of Phoenix, tearing off portions of my dried fruit bar and popping them into my mouth.

Swallowing bodily I smile up at him. "Does your head hurt?" I ask, my eyes searching the cut at his temple.

He runs a hand absentmindedly over the wound. It has turned yellow and purple in the last couple days but looks to have healed cleanly. "It's fine." He says, locking eyes with me. "I don't have any memory of getting off the ship. I gather you gave me a shove?"

"Something like that." I offer him a bite of my ration bar but he shakes his head. "You'd have done the same for me."

He slips an arm around my shoulder and draws me to him. I nestle tightly against his side, breathing in his familiar scent.

His voice is muffled by my hair when he speaks. "That can never happen again."

I draw back, holding his head in my hands as I study him. His grey eyes, normally bright and steely are full of an emotion I cannot place but pulls violently at my heart all the same.

"Will..." I feel as though I owe him an apology, but for the life of me I can't think of why. For once words escape me and I am left staring at him, feeling as lost and hopeless as he appears to be.

"We shouldn't talk about this here." I can see him visibly struggling back into his commander persona.

I sigh in frustration. "Why are there always so many accursed people around?"

His mouth pulls with the ghost of a half-smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He squeezes my hand once tightly before turning to prepare Phoenix for liftoff.

Once the balloon is partially-inflated it takes the help of every Waster and Miner present to support the hull as the great airship fights to right itself from its tilted position on top of the dune. There is an ominous sound of wood creaking and flexing as Phoenix pulls away from the last of the heavy sand before it is finally free.

A plank is laid out and we board one by one. Since being inside the stranger's airship with the false bottom full of cages I now realize that the ledges of Phoenix are significantly higher. I glance towards Luca and notice his eyes flicking down to the floor towards the hatch.

If the Wasters feel any trepidation at boarding the ship they don't show it. Rowan, for one, keeps a sneer drawn over her face, looking about the interior with disdain. We settle into our seats and purposefully avoid looking at one another as Phoenix shudders to life and begins its shaky ascent.

As the rust-coloured sand falls away from us the Wasters' faces become noticeably paler. Cool, stoic Rowan has her fists clenched tightly in her lap, Snake runs a meaty arm over his brow and Jaron grinds his teeth. Only Luca seems moderately comfortable. Most likely he is simply thankful not to be tied to his seat this time.

Finally the pilot brings the injured ship to a comfortable altitude and we travel forward at a steady clip. The hours pass quickly, spent in whispered conversation with our respective comrades. I trade barbs with Marc and the rest of the soldiers, laughing at their jokes about being marooned on a desert island. Will remains near the front of the ship with the pilot, shooting me glances every now and then. In contrast Luca seems focused on Will, studying him intently from his place sitting poised between Jaron and Rowan. Despite the spaciousness of the ship I find the journey cramped and by the time we clear the walls of the City I am ready and eager to plant my feet on the ground.

With no advance warning about our arrival the attendants working in the hangar are forced to scramble. We dock clumsily, Phoenix's semi-deflated balloon sputtering helium as it finally settles to bed. The plank is lowered and we file out, the Wasters' legs trembling slightly despite their best efforts. I lift my hair off of my neck as I glance down the length of the hangar, catching sight of the Queen coming towards us.

The welcome party is modest at best. Meg, clad in a simple gown of shimmering silver leads her elected regents across the expansive floor. To the casual observer she appears poised, her footsteps light but I know her too well. The slight blush to her cheeks betray her as having rushed down from the Palace so that she could be here in time for our arrival.

Will and I hang back as Meg and Jaron step up to one another. She is nearly as tall as he is but the similarities end there.

Where Meg is pristine Jaron is rough. She clasps her hands lightly while Jaron flexes his leather-clad fists. The way they size each other up differs from the way Jaron challenged Will on top of the dune. That was a meeting of warriors. This is a meeting of leaders.

"Welcome." She smiles sincerely, extending a hand to Jaron. He reaches for her immediately, pumping once.

"Thank you." He says a bit stiffly. Displaced from the desert he appears less certain.

"I cannot express how pleased I am that you have come. My name is Megra." Meg's voice is smooth, her every air that of a gracious queen. She nods to the Wasters behind the chief, welcoming them as well.

"Megra. I am Jaron." Even his voice polarizes hers, deep and rumbling.

"Jaron. You and I have much to discuss, but let us speak of those matters later. Your friends must be hungry. Come, I have taken the liberty of arranging a feast in our Great Hall. If you would like to join me?" She inclines her head towards the street, waiting for Jaron to step up next to her. Together they escort us from the hangar. Meg turns once to look at me over her shoulder, shooting me a small smile of gratitude. I wrinkle my nose at her playfully before glancing around for Will.

He appears at my side almost instantly, solid and watchful as we step up into the waiting carriages and drive to the Palace. I turn towards the window, breathing in the familiar smells of the dusty City streets, the scent of spices and perfume shocking compared to the clean air of the Wastelands.

We arrive at the Palace and enter the Hall. My mouth waters as I take in the sight of the impressive meal the Palace cooks have managed to hurriedly put together; beautiful dishes showcasing the best our City has to offer. We eat together at one long table, the conversation noticeably forced despite Meg's best efforts. For her part she performs admirably, the years of practice in courtly manners making her a natural conversationalist. I concentrate on my meal, revelling in the feeling of a full stomach as I half-listen to her explaining our Rebellion to the Wasters.

Jaron seems to be listening raptly, asking a question here and there. I cannot tell if he is truly interested in what Meg is telling him or if he is simply storing the information away for later.

I glance up at Will sitting next to me. His plate is still mostly full as he picks slowly at the meal, pushing the food around with his fork.

I nudge him with my elbow. "Let's go." I whisper.

He eyes flick towards Jaron and Meg, studying them. After a moment he gives the slightest of nods and grabs my hand, pulling me away from the table and out of the Hall.

Our fingers lace together tightly as we ascend the staircase, our twin heartbeats thudding continually through one palm and into the other. I stop him on the first floor landing, using the lapels of his jacket to pull him towards me and kissing him deeply. He presses me against the wall, covering my cheeks with his large hands. I feel my face flush beneath his hold and a soft groan escapes my lips.

He draws back and tugs me up the stairs, spiralling until we reach the third floor. Wordlessly we lean into one another and tread down the silent hallway, finally reaching the entrance to my bedroom. He kisses me again as I lean against the door, groping for the handle.

I can feel his heart beating furiously from where it presses against my chest, eliciting another soft moan from one of us. He is the light to my dark. He is the right to my wrongs. Where I am weak, he is strong. A thousand times I would wait behind in an airship as he plummets to safety. A thousand times I would walk with an enemy into the unknown. I would risk my life over and over again if it meant that I would be given the chance to be enveloped in Will's arms just once more.