I leave Meg in the library and trudge back down the servant's staircase towards the third floor. The Palace has begun to come to life and the odd servant scurries by, their arms laden with linen and trays. I smile half-heartedly at the people I pass as I make my way to my room in somewhat of a daze.

I bathe and dress quickly, grateful to wash the desert and the run from my skin. I am just pulling a shirt over my head when there is a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I call, turning around as Sera pokes her head through the doorway. She smiles warmly and enters the room, a pile of mended clothes balanced carefully in one hand and a hot coffee in the other.

"Thanks, Sera." I accept the drink gratefully and gesture for her to take a seat. Instead she stays rooted in place, taking in my appearance and making a low tutting sound in her throat. Wordlessly she selects a green tunic from the pile of mended clothes and holds it out to me expectantly.

"I understand that you have diplomatic matters to take care of today." She takes the coffee back and indicates that I should change. I sigh, obediently removing my plain tunic and replacing it with the green one.

"Really? No argument?" Sera takes a sip of my coffee and arches a brow at me. "Is everything all right?"

I sink down onto the bed. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"You so rarely do." Her dark eyes are concerned. "Another nightmare?"

I nearly scoff. If only it were as simple as a bad dream. "Something like that."

"If it's any consolation I don't think that anyone is very well-rested today. Having Wasters in our midst has put everyone in the Palace a bit on-edge."

"We don't have anything to fear from them." I tell her. "They are interested in peace, same as us."

"There's a hole in the wall that says otherwise." She replies, tilting her head at me. "But I'm sure they had their reasons."

I snort into my coffee. "That's terrible." I don't bother hiding my smile as I wipe my chin.

She winks mischievously. "But look, I made you laugh."

"Excuse me, I am a highly-respected ambassador with important political duties to attend to. Laughing at such childish jokes is beneath me." I put on my most haughty voice and a droll expression. "How dare you suggest otherwise."

"Forgive me, your supremacy, but you've spilled your drink all over your freshly-washed ceremonial robes." She retorts with mock-annoyance.

"Oh. Shit." I look down and back up, giving her a sheepish grin. "This is why I can't have nice things."

She smirks and moves to find me another outfit. "How you ever managed to pass yourself off as a lady is beyond me."

"The same could be said of you tricking us into believing that you are a timid housemaid." I down the rest of my coffee before stripping off the stained tunic and taking a new one from Sera's hands.

"Then I suppose we should both count ourselves lucky to be stuck with one another." She scoops up my discarded cup and rubs at the marking it has left on the surface of the table. "Your lack of grace keeps me employed..."

"And your cheek keeps me from getting too big for my britches?" I finish for her.

"Precisely. Now, if you are done creating laundry for me to do, your presence is requested in the Hall for breakfast."

"Is..." I bite my lip. "Do you know if Will is there?"

She regards me for a moment before answering. "I believe he has been called away for training."

My shoulders slump in relief. "All right then. Shall we?"

"After you." She mercifully refrains from asking questions and follows me out the door, turning towards the laundry as I head downstairs.

Meg and her regents are already seated at one of the long tables with the Wasters when I enter the Hall. I pick my way between the rest of the tables filled with Palace inhabitants and employees, hurriedly putting together a plateful of food in passing.

I sink down into a seat next to Luca at the far end of the table, avoiding his gaze as I tear into a piece of bread. In the full light of morning the Wasters appear even more out of place than they did the night before. Rowan picks sullenly at her food while Snake and the other Waster warriors dig in heartily, forgoing utensils for the more direct approach. Jaron sits next to Meg at the head of the table, his dark head bent low over his plate in conversation. Our unusual gathering draws more than one curious look from the other people in the Hall and by the way Luca's shoulders are drawn up, I assume he is aware of it.

"I hope that you find our hospitality a little more improved this time." I remark through a mouthful of food, sitting back in my chair and regarding him.

He sighs out his nose, which I have come to accept as a laugh. "I did sleep better, not being tied to my bed."

"Glad we could accommodate." I catch him eyeing the fruit on my plate and I make a point of snatching up a berry and popping it into my mouth. "So today I get to show you my home. Don't go expecting any hidden oasis', we are a touch more modest here."

"Modest is not a word I would choose." Luca glances around the expansive Hall and down the length on our table. "Where is your Commander today?"

I stiffen. "He had other duties to attend to." With some effort I roll my shoulders back and try to appear nonchalant, knowing how perceptive Luca can be.

He watches me carefully, then plucks the final berry from my plate. "He will be missed."

Once we have cleared our plates Meg makes to stand, flashing our group her gracious smile. "If everyone has had their fill, please join me. Kay and I will be conducting a tour of the Palace grounds."

"And what of the rest of your City? When will we be able to see that?" Jaron speaks up, projecting his voice unnecessarily and causing Meg's smile to waiver.

"The City is vast." I answer for her. "You will have ample opportunity to see it all." The smug look slips off Jaron's face but he rises to his feet obediently and motions for the rest of the Wasters to follow Meg out.

We make an odd assortment; a Queen, a Chieftain, regents and various Waster warriors along with City soldiers, tromping through the Hall and out into the courtyard. I make my way to the front of the group near Meg, only half-listening as she leads us around the yard. We stop at the armory and the stables, waiting patiently as the Wasters poke around, their sharp eyes missing nothing.

They are thorough and take their time, using the better part of the morning to search the outer buildings and expansive grounds. It is nearing lunch by the time we finish with the barracks and begin working our way towards the final outbuilding. The gaol.

"Would you like me to wait outside with you?" Meg whispers near my ear.

I shake my head. "It's fine. I'm fine. I can go inside."

"Are you sure?"

"I said, I'm fine." I speak a little too loudly and clench my jaw shut, drawing my shoulders back and striding purposefully to the gaol door, wrenching it open with more force than necessary.

I hold the door open for the group, ignoring the concerned look Meg shoots me on the way past. When the last person streams by I take a steadying breath and step through the doorway, cringing when the heavy gate swings shut behind me.

Our footsteps echo heavily in the enclosed space; I can practically feel the stone floor vibrating beneath my feet. I eye the empty guardsroom as I trail the crowd down the stairs, stepping carefully on the worn steps as my eyes gradually adjust to the darkness.

The low murmuring of voices fades into a buzzing in my ears and I shake my head to clear it, feeling my heart rate begin to pick up as we move deeper below ground. Someone lights a torch up ahead but the light blurs in my vision and I nearly run into the person in front of me. Rowan gives me an ugly glare when I trod on the back of her heels and I step back, giving myself some space.

By the time we reach the bottom of the stairs my heart is pounding furiously in my chest. Meg is waiting for me when I round the bend and casually slips her arm through mine, her hand cool on top of my clammy skin. We move slowly past the general population cells and into the darkened tunnel that leads to the isolation chambers. Heavy wooden doors dot the walls beside me, silent and forboding. The damp air quiets the low voices and we move through the forgotten space in near-silence, with only the sounds of shuffling feet and heavy breaths to accompany us.

Jaron and the rest of the Wasters move in and out of the cells, inspecting each room. I catch sight of Luca slipping into one room in particular and stop in my tracks, yanking Meg back with me.

That cell. Where I spent so many days confined and bleeding. Where Harmen taunted and tortured me with stories from my past. I can't go any further.

"No." I hear myself say, drawing away from Meg.

Luca emerges from the cell, his expression confused in the flickering torchlight.

"Kay, it's all right. I'll go with you." Meg reaches her hand out cautiously and I jerk back, stumbling on the worn stone floor in my haste.

"No, don't. I..." I rub my eyes forcefully, my tongue feeling thick in my head. "I'll wait for you outside."

"Kay..."

I turn and walk quickly back down the tunnel, my gait turning into a jog and then a full-out run by the time I reach the general population cells and the stairs. My breaths are both shallow and halting and my heart beats furiously behind my blurred eyes as I take the stairs two at a time, away from the darkness, away from the hidden chambers at the end of the tunnel.

I sprint through the door and slam it shut behind me, leaning back against the gate as I struggle to catch my breath. I never should have gone down there. I'm not ready. I won't ever be ready. What was I trying to prove? Stupid, Kay.

Turning reflexively I pull myself up the facade of the building, picking my way towards the roof before sinking down onto the sun-baked surface. The familiar exercise loosens my muscles and slows my breathing. I focus on the familiar tingling in my limbs as I stare blankly out at the yard, waiting for the anxiety to subside.

Eventually Meg and the others emerge from the building below me, talking amongst themselves as they head back to the Palace. I watch as Meg looks to both sides, seemingly searching for me. I stay silent, relaxing into my old role as an impassive observer of human activity.

Luca trails near the back of the group, as usual. After a time he stops, then turns in place and looks directly up at me.

I don't move, my eyes locking with his, feeling somewhat numb and unsurprised. There is something calming in his expression. An understanding. After a moment he gives me the slightest of nods and spins back around to follow the others.

I wait until his retreating figure has disappeared around the wall of the courtyard before climbing down. I make my way to the kitchen through the servant's entrance, aiming to take my lunch alone and give myself a little more time to recover.

Meg and the others are gathered in the foyer by the time I catch up, walking in as Meg points out the various rooms and corridors. We wait as the Wasters continually duck into the hidden alcoves and servant passages, searching for anything amiss. I think briefly of the secret tunnel the King nearly escaped through during the Revolution and wonder if Meg intends to disclose its whereabouts to Jaron.

We pass the hallway Will stashed me in after my rescue from the executioners block. Jaron and the others disappear inside and I look towards Meg. She stands still and impassive, her hands clasped loosely. The secret tunnel shall remain a secret then. I suppose it doesn't bode well to have the Wasters know how to access the Palace from outside its walls.

Once Jaron is satisfied with his knowledge of the first floor we take the grand staircase to the upper rooms, poking our heads in the offices, servants quarters, former ladies and lords rooms, the chapel, the library and finally the King's apartment on the very top floor.

I take the opportunity to step out onto the King's balcony, peering over the edge and revelling in the height. A slow smile creeps up my face as the familiar buzz of exhilaration tingles in my veins.

"A long fall." Luca remarks, materializing suddenly beside me. The wind buffets his loose clothing and loosens strands of his dark hair.

"It isn't so bad." I tell him, leaning over further to peer at the seventh floor balcony below us. "I made it to the balcony down there without too much hassle."

"You jumped?" His brows are raised as he turns to look at me fully. "Why?"

"A disagreement with the King's guard." I tell him. "If you ever find yourself in a similar predicament, I suggest you take the stairs."

He smirks, pushing tendrils of hair back from his face. "I look forward to one day learning your stories, Kay. You have much to tell."

Meg and Jaron join us on the balcony and together we look out at the flat roofs of the City sprawling around the perimeter of the Palace walls.

"There is so much here." There is a trace of awe to Jaron's usually-measured tone. "So many people. How can you manage them all?"

"I don't." Meg replies simply. "One thing I learned from my father and his predecessors is that you cannot control people. I look at my duty as that of an advisor. We have an open-forum here at the Palace; our citizens are welcome to come and ask for help and put forward their ideas. It is my job to listen and assist, where possible."

Jaron nods, his brow furrowed as though he is deep in thought. "And your people are happy?"

Meg doesn't answer immediately, keeping her blue eyes trained on the view. "Most of them are." She says eventually. "With a few outliers."

"The Courtiers." Jaron recalls.

"Former Courtiers." I correct him. "It is difficult for some people to go from decades of handouts to having to work for their living."

"And how do you punish these people?" Jaron asks, looking at us quizzically.

Something flashes across Meg's face. "They are not punished. We have a system in place that helps everyone find work. They are welcome to use it or fend for themselves."

"It is a system that your Courtiers do not adhere to." There is a condescending note to Jaron's tone and I bite my tongue purposefully, knowing that this is Meg's fight. "Were this my camp I would banish anyone who refuses to contribute."

"That is cruel." She responds quickly and I can tell she regrets not being more careful with her words.

He turns to her, his eyes sharp and appearing older than his years beneath dark brows. "Sometimes cruelty is necessary. People who expect handouts are a sickness. They will spread poisonous words and infect others."

"They are still people. It is our job as leaders to give them help and understanding, not turn our backs on them."

"Wrong. It is our job as leaders to do what is best for the group as a whole. That means taking strong actions and making difficult decisions."

"An individual cannot be so definitively labeled as either 'bad' or 'good'." A high colour has risen to Meg's cheeks. "Lives are not so black and white. A good leader leaves room for grey."

"Is that so? Tell me, Queen, are there people in your City who speak ill of their monarch?" Jaron has sensed that he has the upper-hand and is leaning casually against the glass ledge of the balcony.

"Naturally." Meg replies tightly.

"That is because they sense your weakness. Mark my words, if you do not make a display of strength you will have another uprising on your hands." My brows shoot up at Jaron's bold statement and I share a look with Luca, who appears equally uncomfortable with the exchange.

"Casting away your problems is not strength." Meg has drawn herself up to her full height, matching Jaron eye-for-eye. "I choose to confront the issues our City has rather than forcing them to disappear into the Wastelands."

Jaron blinks I feel a swell of pride for Meg. I notice Luca trying to hide a grin by turning away and looking back at the view.

Jaron composes himself almost instantly, shrugging and trying to appear nonchalant. "It is your City. Do as you please."

"I shall. Thank you."

"All right then." I clap my hands once in an effort to diffuse the tension. "Enough of this stuffy Palace tour. I think what our distinguished guests could use is a look at the real City." I look pointedly at Meg, indicating her formal gown. "You should probably change into something a little more relaxed."

She glances down at her outfit, then back up. "Where are we going?"

"Either a bar, a brawl or a brothel." I reply, quirking an eyebrow. "The choice is yours but, personally, I am partial to the pub."