I sleep in haphazard fits and starts before finally giving up and tossing aside the blanket, sliding out of bed and searching through the midnight gloom for some clothes. I hurriedly pull on a pair of loose harem pants and a cropped tunic, not bothering to dress warmly, knowing I'll be working up a sweat soon enough.

I shove my feet into my most worn pair of boots and tie my hair back, heading towards the still-open balcony doors.

The night breeze kisses my face as I step outside. The hammering in my heart has yet to cease but I will attempt to outrun it nonetheless. I climb up onto the ledge of the balcony and grip the thick rope strung between my terrace and the wall surrounding the Palace yard.

I finger the coarse cord, glancing upwards and recalling the night Will surprised me with this escape route. I had lamented to him about having to take the stairs every time I wanted to leave the grounds and he took it upon himself to install a rope connecting my bedroom to the outer wall. He took my hand and brought me out to the balcony, smiled that half grin at me and handed over a custom-fitted handhold.

I examine the handlebar now, the steel feeling icy-cold in my grip. In one smooth motion I loop it over the rope and jump, holding tightly to the handles.

I slide smoothly and with breathtaking speed along the length of the rope, the moonlit air streaming by me, invigorating after the confining staleness of my war-torn bedroom.

When Will first gifted me this zip line we slid down it one after the other, whooping and hollering with exhilaration in our excitement for the controlled fall. Now, I fly silently, reaching the end of the line and planting my feet on the Palace wall, looking back up as if expecting to see him sliding to a stop next to me. The abandoned balcony stares back, darkened and impassive.

I leave the handlebar dangling over the rope and climb down the other side of the wall, darting across the wide road before reaching the first of the former Courtly towers and shimmying up its facade with a practiced sureness.

Finally, I am ready to run.

My feet move as if controlled by a force larger than myself. I tear across the open roof, pushing myself off the ledge and sailing towards my goal.

My heartbeat picks up as I soar, some semblance of who I used to be fluttering inside my chest. I hold on to that feeling for as long as I am able, the weight of Will's words shocking me back into the present when I land.

My breaths are heavy as I roll out of my crouched position and I refuse to pause before taking off once again for the next ledge. If I run hard enough, I might be able to outpace this leaden feeling.

I forcefully push aside my raging thoughts, concentrating on the run, on the leaping, on the flying. I grasp desperately for my sense of self, feeling the burning tightness of rage coursing through my limbs as my heart threatens to pull me back under.

Faster and faster, racing across the stone rooftops, directionless but for the desperate pull to reach something I once had.

The buildings and alleyways blur below me, indecipherable as anything but tools to propel myself forward, further, higher, faster.

The ghost chases me. I stifle a roar of frustration and push harder, my limbs, lungs and heart burning with the heat of an unquenchable fire.

Damn him. Damn him for everything he said he loved about me and took back. Damn him for his accusations and his weaknesses posing as strengths. What could he truly know of me? To him I am a spy and a revolutionary, but I know the truth. I am no one; a common thief betrayed and abandoned by anyone I would dare get close to.

A great, heaving sob threatens my chest and pinpricks behind my eyes. I ignore the weighted feeling in my legs and jump again, springing vertically as though the night sky were within my grasp.

I don't think you will be satisfied until you scrape the stars.

His words echo in my mind, taunting me, restraining me. Anger and heartbreak swirl together in a deadly concoction that threaten to bring me back down to earth. I bite down on the inside of my cheek as I roll into another landing and revel in the taste of blood filling my mouth.

I don't realize that I have reached the City limits until the scaffolding surrounding the outer wall rushes up beneath my feet. I rise into a shaky standing position, shoulders heaving, sweat pouring down my neck and back as I gaze out over the ledge.

The Wastelands expand before me, vast and limitless in stark contrast to the finite existence of the City. There was a time when the City felt large, when it's rooftops and alleyways were all I knew and all I ever needed to know. Now, staring out at the barren expanse of desert I feel confined, restricted. The world is so much larger than I once allowed myself to believe. What meaning do walls and buildings have compared to the endlessness beyond our borders?

I sink down into a sitting position on the top of the wall, staring out. The moon and stars illuminate the sandy expanse, painting the earth a pale blue. The night breeze tangles through my hair and buffets my loose clothing, cooling my skin where sweat dries against flesh. I shiver despite myself, revelling in the sensation of tired limbs and chilled air, grateful to have something physical to concentrate on.

Straining to make out the details dotting the Wasteland my thoughts inevitably return to Will. I wrap my arms around myself as I fight to keep at bay the emotions threatening to surface.

Too reckless. Haven't I every reason to be? What does my life compare to the plight of the Commoners, or the Wasters? What does one orphan girl matter relative to the entirety of the world's grand design? How could I live with myself if I had the opportunity to help but failed to act? My family gave up their lives for a cause, the act of sacrifice courses through the very blood in my veins.

Why can't he understand? He claims to accept and trust me but his words tonight painted another picture. Why can't he support what is important to me? How can I help others when I am constantly being held back by him? By anyone?

Perhaps that's it. Perhaps I am not meant to be partnered with any one person. As Will said, worrying about me only impeded his ability to do his job. Our emotional attachment to each other makes us weak, they restrain us when it comes to handling more important matters. Without me he will be free to make his decisions with a clear head.

And I will be free to run.

At the thought the icy grip of fear consumes me, so sudden and shocking that I gasp and nearly topple off the wall. The idea of losing the last person to hold my heart is so intensely terrifying that I cannot catch my breath. My traitor mind flashes to a scene deep within Harmen's gaol, how it felt to be betrayed and abandoned by my best friends, left to rot with no end in sight.

I clutch at my heart, trying vainly to bring myself back under control. This is the first time my nightmares have attacked me while conscious. I shut my eyes tightly and reflexively wish for Will's warm hand on my back, for his soothing words. Another bout of panic shudders through my body at the realization that he isn't here and he may never be again.

Finally and with great effort I am able to slow my heart rate. While drawing great, shuddering breaths I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and bring my knees up to my chest. I focus on remaining completely still as I look blankly out into the desert, my eyes glazing over as I watch the sky change gradually from black to indigo. The stars fade while twinges of violet promise from the horizon.

By the time I rise shakily to my feet on still-tired legs I am drained both emotionally and mentally. A dull throb pulses at my temple and the running becomes a welcome respite from my aches and pains I work my way back to the Palace reluctantly, the twinge in my heart throbbing acutely as I move further away from the wall.

Dawn has only barely set in by the time I reach the Palace gates and the great, glass spire is reflecting a pinkish hue. I nod halfheartedly to the gate guard and enter the Palace through one of the servant's side entrances, spiralling up the stairs to the seventh floor.

The doors to the library stand open and I slip inside. As I walk through the archway I note the scuffed markings on the wooden door from when Meg and I barricaded ourselves inside. In contrast the shelves have been rebuilt and restored to their former glory, proudly boasting the two-storey ladders and impressive collection of books.

I make my way over to the overstuffed couch in the centre of the room, stopping short in my tracks at the sight of a familiar face.

"Oh." My tongue is sluggish in my groggy state.

Meg smiles warmly and draws her long legs up, making room as I slump down heavily next to her, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes.

"Long night?" She asks, shutting her book softly.

"You could say that." I roll my neck to look at her. "And what about you?"

"I couldn't sleep either." She runs a hand over the back of her neck. "That was quite a tense dinner with our guests last night, wasn't it?"

"That's just how they are." I pull my hair free of its tie and start braiding it absentmindedly, frowning when my fingers catch in a snag. "The Wasters are serious people, to say the least."

"I suppose they have reason to be."

"I would say so." I tug impatiently at the knot in my hair, frustration getting the better of me. "Who could be taking them, Meg?"

"I don't know, it doesn't make any sense." She pulls my hand out of my hair gently and works her nimble fingers through the locks, her voice thoughtful. "I never heard a thing about this until last night, but they say that you and Luca saw the kidnappers for yourselves?"

"They were piloting one of our airships."

Her fingers cease their movements. "Are you certain?"

"Completely. It was modified; the floor was raised and there was a hidden compartment beneath for their prisoners but it was undoubtedly one of ours." I refrain from describing the disturbing sight of the cages, wanting to focus on the task at hand.

She doesn't respond immediately, patiently returning to detangling my hair. "You did not recognize any of the crew?"

"I don't think they were from the City." Speaking aloud to Meg helps to clear my thoughts and I am able to focus on the facts of what Luca and I saw that day, rather than the fear that accompanied it. "Their accents, clothing and weapons were all unfamiliar." I remember suddenly. "They mentioned someone, the Madam. Does that mean anything to you?"

"The Madam? No, I've never heard that before." She is silent again for a spell. "Let's assume they are neither Wasters nor City people, that they must be from another society."

"All right."

"If that is the case, then I think there are two possible ways they could have come into possession of one of our airships."

"Let's hear them."

"The first is that they commandeered one during a Wasteland battle."

"And the second?"

"That someone from the City supplied them." She smoothly ties off the end of my braid and sits back, her expression thoughtful. "The Palace keeps records of airship manufacturing and distribution, I'll have someone look into where all the models ended up."

"Do you really think that the City could be involved in some way?" My stomach churns at the thought.

She sighs heavily. "Unfortunately, yes. Every day, Kay, I am learning of some other cheat or atrocity that my father committed when he was King. I will not say it outside of these walls, but I think it is entirely possible that he had something to do with this."

I adjust my position on the couch so that I am facing her. "It makes you wonder why these former Courtiers would long for the glory days."

She laughs bitterly. "I suppose that they are so deserving of stature and riches that kidnapping is justified."

"We don't know for sure that your father had a part in this." I tell her.

"Jaron certainly thinks that we are guilty in some way." She sighs. "I don't think anyone has ever distrusted me so immensely." Her cheek pulls and she glances up at me. "Except perhaps you."

A sad smile escapes me, recalling my first impression of Meg, how rude and condescending she was. "You make a much better first impression these days."

"That's promising. There may be hope for me yet." She nudges me playfully with her foot, coaxing another smile from my lips.

I swat her away, fingering my now neatly-made braid. From the corner of my eye I see her brows draw together.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing." I reply quickly. "I'm just tired. Tired and thinking about this Waster issue." I straighten my face and bring my eyes back to hers. "Meg, I think we owe them more than just peace. We need to help them get their people back."

She watches me patiently, her dark eyes betraying nothing. "I knew you would say something like that."

"Am I wrong?" I ask. "You of all people must feel for them. It just doesn't seem right, turning our backs when something is so clearly rotten."

"No, it doesn't feel right." She allows. "But I barely have this City under control as it is. There is a large gathering of people who want to see me usurped, is now really the best time to engage in a war that doesn't involve us?"

"But it does involve us." I say fiercely. "Just because we don't live within the same walls doesn't make us any less connected. I've spent time with them, Meg. They're good people."

"Settle, Kay. We don't have to decide on anything just yet. I will be seeing for myself soon enough what they are like." Her calm tone soothes me and I feel myself begin to untense, startled at how wound up I became suddenly.

"Jaron will want to tour the grounds today." She continues, glancing towards the window and squinting into the sun beginning to clear the horizon. "Will you come with us?"

"Sure." I settle back against the couch, feeling as though I could finally drift off to sleep. Too bad the time for that has passed. "When will you meet to negotiate a treaty?"

"Not until he is satisfied that we are not holding any Wastelanders here."

I pause, considering. "What will you do if it turns out the King did have something to do with this?"

"I will tell them the truth: that I am not my father. Hopefully if it comes to that we will have established enough trust that this won't turn into a full-out war."

"It's lucky you're so charming." I tell her. "You'll have Jaron eating out of your hand by the end of the week."

She tosses a pillow at me. "Let's just start with the tour, shall we?"

I catch the pillow and throw it back at her, grinning genuinely when she bats it clumsily away. "I can see that you've missed me."

"You have no idea." She tilts her head, her immaculately coiled hair skimming her shoulder. "I go absolutely mad when you aren't here to talk to." She scoots down the length of the couch towards me and wraps her slender arms around my neck.

"I missed you too, Princess." I hug her back, shutting my eyes and revelling in the contact.

"I'm so glad you're safe, Kay." Her voice is muffled against my shoulder. "I was convinced you were going to do something foolish and get yourself killed."

I stiffen in her arms and draw back suddenly. "Why is everyone so concerned about me lately?"

She considers her words carefully. "It isn't unfair to say that you are well-acquainted with danger."

"All the more reason for you to trust me." I point out. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"

She nods slowly, keeping her tone measured. "Indeed you have, but you can't fault your friends for caring about you, dear Kay."

That shuts me up. I clench my jaw and deliberately avoid her gaze, studying the intricate embroidery on the couch intently.

"Did you and Will have an argument?"

My fingernail picks at a bit of loose thread. "Something like that."

"Is everything all right?"

My cheeks redden as the unwelcome ache begins clawing its way up my throat. Not trusting myself to speak I simply shake my head.

Then her arms are around me again. I allow myself to be held, burrowing into her shoulder as I fight the wave of heartbreak that threatens to overtake me. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, refuse to allow tears to come forth. For now, this is enough.

The morning looms ever closer, threatening us with the brightening rays filtering in through the glass walls. For this moment the upcoming day's events are disregarded. Right now, a Queen and a thief will remain ensconced amongst the silent company of books.