If I don't get out of this infirmary soon I am going to snap.

"It's only been a few days, Kay. Your body needs time to heal." Jules says as she changes the wrappings on my stitched arm and cracked ribs, her tone patient but firm.

"I am healed enough." I tell her, rotating my shoulder for her benefit and effectively hiding my discomfort. "I want to speak with Rowan."

She isn't fooled for a moment. "You need to stay off that leg or you're only going to make it worse."

"That old thing has always been in a bad way." I wave my hand dismissively. "Exercise is the best treatment."

Jules presses her lips together in a tight line. "You aren't making my job easy."

"Did you expect anything less?" I swing my legs out of the bed and place my bare feet tentatively on the floor, grimacing at the movement. "See? It's fine. I told you."

She throws her hands in the air, exasperated. "Kay, I swear to the gods if you don't get back in bed this instant I will tie you to the frame."

"I'd like to see you try that." I push myself up into a standing position, placing my weight on my good leg and swaying slightly as I hold on to the cot for balance.

"Great, you're standing. Marvellous progress. I'd say that's enough for today, wouldn't you?" Sarcasm drips from Jules' voice as she glares at me with her arms crossed.

"Not quite." I grit my teeth and attempt a step forward. My knee gives out immediately and I nearly crumble to the ground, managing to grasp onto the frame at the last instant. A growl of frustration tears from my throat as Jules helps me back up.

"You've really done a number on it." She shakes her head, tutting not unsympathetically.

"Clearly." I groan. I feel a jolt of anger at Rowan. Not being able to walk, let alone run, especially during times like this is one of the worst punishments I could receive.

"Patience, Kay. It isn't the end of the world." Jules is relentlessly optimistic. As much as I love Will's sister sometimes I just want to throttle her. "Look, here comes Luca. Maybe he can talk some sense into you."

My head jerks up. Sure enough, Luca has appeared in his usual soundless fashion. The tight knot of tension still remains pinched between his brows and he holds a long wooden object in his hands.

He nods to Jules before addressing me. "You are looking better."

I roll my eyes. "Then let us alert Vitrola that I am ready for the ball."

His eyes narrow in confusion while Jules releases an inelegant guffaw, at once slapping her hands to her mouth as though she could force the sound back inside.

"Who?" Luca asks.

I wave my hand dismissively. "An old friend. Don't worry about it. What have you got there?"

He glances down at the wooden instrument, turning it over in his hands. "I thought it might help you get back on your feet."

My eyes widen as Jules groans, "Not you as well."

Luca holds the crutch out, helping me into a standing position and easing it under my shoulder. At once the pressure on my knee is relieved and I am able to hobble forward a few tentative steps.

A huge smile breaks out over my face, immediately extinguishing any lingering rage.

"Luca, this is amazing." I breathe. Looking up at him I can see a genuine grin alighting his features. It's the first smile I've seen from him and it changes his entire face, his sharp eyes at once appearing kind and not so calculating. I stare for a moment too long, my own grin mirroring his.

"I knew you would be mad, being kept in here." He says as he watches me limp in a small circle. "I would be."

"You could not be more right about that." I agree. I return to the bed and sit down, holding the crutch out to examine it. "Where did it come from?"

"I made it."

"You made this?" Incredulous I rotate it in my hands, running my fingers along the smooth, sanded edges. It is constructed simply yet beautifully; rounded at the top so that it fits snugly beneath my arm. Remarkably, the crutch is also precisely my size.

He shrugs. "It is nothing. I have time on my hands."

"Thank you."

"Enough thanks." He shifts uncomfortably but there is still a trace of the smile hiding behind his beard. "We have traded too many favours, we need a new term for thanks."

I laugh for the first time since the fight. "How about a simple 'that will do'?"

"Done."

"For the record," Jules breaks in, "I am still not in favour of this. But since Luca has insisted on being an accomplice..." She shakes her head, sighing. "I'll fetch your boots."

Minutes later I am shuffling along next to Luca down the length of the infirmary. He slows his pace to accommodate me as we gradually make our way to the curtained-off area at the far end of the space.

"Have you spoken with her?" I ask.

He nods, appearing weary. "Jaron and I have both tried to speak with Rowan but I think she is too resigned to her fate. She won't say a word."

"Her fate?"

He looks at me directly. "Execution."

"Oh." Of course. I feel an unwelcome stab of pity for Rowan despite everything that's happened. Waster law is unforgivably harsh.

We arrive at the end of the infirmary where two City guards stand at attention, their gloved hands loosely gripping the hilts of the swords at their waists. One of the men gives me a cursory nod before pulling aside the curtain and waving us through.

The sight of Rowan, bandaged and bound to the bed is strangely reminiscent of the first time I laid eyes on Luca. The only difference is where Luca appeared wild and antagonistic, Rowan is calm, stoic even. She glances up at us, her dark eyes no longer bearing the harsh glint I remember from the alley. Her face is cut and bruised and her arm is heavily bandaged from where I hit her with the spear but she appears otherwise unharmed. I feel a jolt of annoyance at realizing that she came out the more fortunate of the two of us.

"Rowan." Luca offers by way of greeting. She gives no indication of having heard him, instead staring fixedly at me.

I shift my weight, trying not to appear uncomfortable. This prolonged standing was probably not a good idea but I'll be damned if I let Rowan see that.

"We know that someone blackmailed you into attacking Meg." I get right to the point. Beating one another until we are raw and bloody has put us past formal niceties.

Her gaze remains locked with mine, her expression infuriatingly impassive, as always.

"I know what it is to lose someone you love." I tell her.

That gets a small reaction. She blinks once, tilting her chin up slightly. I fight the urge to squirm under her scrutiny, internally cursing her for intimidating me even when restrained and under heavy guard.

Taking a deep breath. "I lost my family nearly six years ago and not a day goes by that I don't mourn them. If someone told me there was a way I could have them back..." I trail off, shaking my head. "I would do pretty much anything."

Silence but for the sound of Luca shifting subtly behind me. I keep my eyes locked with Rowan's, waiting.

"I don't blame you." I am surprised to find that I mean the words. "What did Grayson tell you in order to make you do this?"

Something flashes in her narrowed eyes and I know immediately that we guessed correctly.

"Grayson is a pawn, same as I." Her normally deep voice is harsh and grating. She pauses, regarding me. "Same as you and your queen."

I manage to keep my face blank despite the heavy hammering in my chest. "Does he have Noah?"

Another pause. The silent purgatory stretches for an eternity before she finally gives the smallest shake of her head. No.

"How do you know?" I press.

There is the barest shimmer in her eyes until she blinks away the trace of emotion.

"Rowan." I hobble forward a step, my voice low. "I want to help bring him back but I can't do it without you." I take a deep breath. "Please. Tell me exactly what Grayson told you."

"I cannot help you."

"Why not?"

"If Grayson learns that I talked he will get word to the Madam." She finally has the humility to look away, her balled fists straining against her bindings. "She will kill Noah."

My pounding heart climbs into my throat. That name again. The Madam.

"He won't have to chance to get word to anyone." I promise, careful to keep my tone controlled. "Grayson and I have a history. I can protect you from him."

"It isn't him that scares me!" Her guarded veneer finally cracks. "You still don't get it, do you, girl Miner?"

I stumble on my bad leg, taken aback by her sudden outburst. Luca's hand grips my elbow and I shake him off, gritting my teeth. "Your silence isn't helping anyone." I tell her.

"My silence is the only thing keeping Noah alive."

"Then what? How do you expect us to rescue him with no information?" Frustration nearly gets the better of me but I push it aside with a steely resolve, straightening as best I can to my full height.

"I'll tell you what, Rowan. I will give you a second option." Smoothly, I fold my arms across my chest. "In this scenario I go to the Outer City. I tell Grayson that you gave him up, Grayson tells the Madam of your treachery and she kills Noah anyway. Is that what you want?"

Luca stiffens at my side as Rowan's tan face pales noticeably. "You would not dare." She hisses.

"You don't think so? Just watch me. As you've said, this isn't my fight. All that matters to me is keeping my people safe; I couldn't care less about a handful of unknown Wasters." The words drip like acid from my tongue. "In fact, if you think about it, this Madam is doing me a favour. By depleting the Waster population she is effectively ending our war. That's all I ever really wanted."

She is nearly white as a sheet, staring at me. After a time she grits her teeth and narrows her eyes. "I wish I had killed you."

"Don't feel too bad, lesser men have tried." I lean in further. "Who is the Madam and what does she have to do with Grayson?"

She forcefully sucks in several breaths, fairly seething. Her gaze darts to Luca who stands back impassively, betraying nothing. Finally her sharp eyes return to me.

"The Madam supplies your Outer City with gold in return for use of their air machines." She trembles on the bed, with rage or fear I cannot tell. "That is all I know of her. That and the fact that she takes the Wasters far beyond your borders, to her camp."

"Did Grayson tell you to kill Meg?" I store the new information away quickly, not wanting to lose momentum.

She nods. "He said if I did this one thing that he would tell the Madam to release Noah."

"He is a liar." I tell her. "I doubt that he has any kind of influence over this Madam person." Taking a deep breath. "How do you know Grayson?"

"I was taken." The moisture builds in her eyes again and she blinks forcefully, curling her fingers into fists. "When the air machines came for us Noah was caged but I was given a choice." At this she looks to Luca. "I would be given my freedom and Noah would be protected if I met with Grayson and fed him information."

There is a moment of disbelieving silence as the meaning of her words slowly dawns.

"You gave up our camp." Luca steps up beside me. Every one of his sinewy muscles is clenched in anger and I instinctively place a hand on his chest to keep him back.

"I had to!" She insists fervently. "I had no choice!"

"All those people. Your people. Rowan." I can feel him shaking behind my flattened palm. "You would have them given to the enemy? You would have me taken? You would have our chief taken?"

"No, Luca. Never you. Never Jaron." She strains against the bindings. "I took Jaron with me that day. I told you to take the girl hunting. I tried to protect you."

"You got rid of us so that there would be no one to stop the sky machines." His voice is low, carrying the menacing quality I haven't heard since we first met. I check quickly over my shoulder to make sure the guards are close at hand.

"There was no other option." A single tear trickles down her cheek, mingling with her cut flesh. "I did it for Noah."

"Do you think that this is what Noah would want?" Luca spits. "Your heart has made you weak, Rowan."

"Luca, please..." Her tears flow freely now.

"I have heard enough. Execution is too kind a punishment for you." He draws a steadying breath, glaring at her with a pure hatred that sends shivers down my spine. "May you rot in the eternal Burn, Rowan."

He pushes forcefully through the curtain and I follow, shuffling awkwardly as I attempt to keep up with his stride. Behind us I can hear Rowan's quiet sobs gradually receding, absorbed by the expansive room and sterile walls.

Luca slows his pace but I can see that his shoulders are still drawn up in anger. After a time he draws to a stop, turning in place to look at me. I remain a few feet away, breathing heavily from a combination of exertion and information.

"We will get him back." I tell him. "I promise."

"You cannot promise that."

I bite my lip, forgetting again that it is still swollen. "I can try."

He doesn't respond immediately, instead watching me as I sway in place. His brows remain pinched but the line between his sharp eyes softens ever so slightly.

"That will do."

There is the sudden sound of the infirmary door slamming open and a stampede of footsteps trampling down the hallway towards us. I peer over Luca's shoulder, frowning at the group of City soldiers, their faces drawn grimly with Marc at their head.

"Luca." Marc joins us, placing a firm hand on Luca's arm. The Waster stiffens under his touch. "You need to come with us to the Wall."

"What's going on?" I demand.

"Jaron is back." Marc steers Luca towards the exit and I don't miss that he leaves his other hand close to the hilt of his sword. "And he didn't come alone."

Alarm bells sing through me as I limp to keep up, internally cursing my bad knee for the millionth time. "Jaron went to fetch a medicine man to help Meg. We knew he was bringing someone back with him." I explain hurriedly.

Marc glances back towards me and signals to one of the guards. Someone offers their shoulder and holds my crutch so that I can walk more easily.

"Jaron did not bring just one man." Marc explains. His voice is strained. "He brought an army."

Will is waiting for us outside the Palace, directing soldiers to the armoury and the stables. The scene is not unlike one I witnessed not so long ago, when the Wasters attacked our Wall. A low hum of panic churns my stomach at the sight of all the grim-faced soldiers and hastily-gathered weapons. Time slows to an impossibly tedious crawl as I watch the men and women scurrying across the grounds. What I wouldn't give to be able to run ahead across the rooftops.

Will materializes next to me, leading a giant horse. He glances down at my bandaged knee and the crutch before wrapping his hands around my waist and heaving me onto the beast, climbing up fluidly behind me.

I stiffen at the feeling of his broad chest at my back and his arms pinning me in place. Keeping the crutch grasped in one hand, I hold onto it like a lifeline.

Will steers our horse to the front of the pack near the gate, turning to face the soldiers. At the rear I can see a red-faced Luca being ushered hurriedly into a carriage.

"Keep your weapons sheathed!" Will shouts over the din. "We are a display of force, not war."

At once we turn and he kicks the horse into motion. My breath ceases as we gallop full-force down the wide main street, the sound of a hundred hoofbeats at our back rattling my bones and spurring us onwards.

We tear through narrow roads, turning often as we spiral towards the outskirts of the City. Hot, dry air rushes by my face as I lean forward, grimacing at the way the motion jostles my still-unhealed ribs and various bruises. Will's breath tickles my ear as we ride, his heartbeat steady and reassuring against my spine.

The former Court rushes by us, eventually giving way to the depths of the former Commons. I catch glimpses of people staring out at us from their windows and doorways, faces pinched with alternating expressions of concern, fear, and grim determination.

After what seems like an eternity we finally reach the Wall. A small troop of soldiers and citizens are already gathered in front of the still-crumbling hole, their backs ramrod straight as they stare out over the Wastelands.

Will directs the horse around the group, pulling to a halt when we reach the gate. I peer out into the endless landscape beyond the destroyed Wall, my eyes widening at the sight.

It appears that every member of Pic Dil Cir is making their way across the flattened desert, marching resolutely towards us with Jaron at their head. Their silent footsteps are marred by an ominous rumbling emanating from several giant mechanical carts pulled alongside them.

Will slides off the horse, reaching out a hand to help me down, his eyes never leaving the approaching army. Balancing precariously on the rubble, I use the crutch to stabilize myself. I glance behind me to see Luca stepping out of the cart and making his way over, followed closely by a handful of guards. The rest of the soldiers and City people have fanned out to create a perimeter surrounding the hole, each face bravely resolute as they watch the Wasters draw ever closer.

"There." The sound of Will's voice brings my head around again. Squinting into the bright sunlight I can make out what he has spotted. White flags, held aloft and fluttering in the dry desert breeze.

"Why are they here?" My voice is low, meant only for Will and Luca.

Neither replies. The only sound is the heavy racket of wheels on sand as the mysterious vehicles barrel ever-closer. I furrow my brow, concentrating. The Wasters' carts are stacked high with rocks but this time there is no giant throwing weapon in sight. What are they doing?

I glance up at Luca. He ignores me, keeping his sharp gaze trained forward. He seems calm, giving no indication of tension despite the weapons held at his back.

Jaron draws within a few yards of the Wall, holding his hand up to halt the progress behind him. Will does the same. We stand on either side of the rubble, Wasters and Miners divided by generations of war, death, destruction and distrust. I feel my lungs constrict and realize that I am holding my breath.

The sand shifts around their feet, swirling upwards and causing the Wasters to nearly blend into the expansive Wasteland beyond. Dressed in swathes of earth-coloured fabric and adorned with feathers they could not appear more different from our brightly-clothed citizens and leather-armoured soldiers. The last time we met at this wall deadly arrows flew freely between us. Now we regard each other in tense silence while the white flags flutter impassively.

Jaron lowers his hand, his eyes trained on Will, Luca and I standing at the forefront. "This war is not between us." His deep voice carries through the heavy desert air. "The time for fight has ended. There is nothing that can be done to absolve the lost lives of countless Wasters and Miners, but perhaps this act can be a new beginning."

"They want to rebuild the Wall." Luca's voice is low, startling me.

Will steps forward, passing over the rubble and through the ruined Wall. I feel a rush of anxiety as I watch him approach Jaron, in my minds-eye seeing the Wasters converge and attack.

The two men meet on the flattened earth, standing only a few yards apart. Jaron nods to Will before casting his heavy staff to the side, kicking up a cloud of sand. One by one the rest of the Wasters lay down their weapons, causing the dust to swirl anew.

"When we fight, we fight together." Jaron extends his hand to Will, waiting expectantly.

Will pauses a beat before withdrawing his own sword and dropping it at his feet. He steps forward and clasps Jaron's palm firmly, placing a hand on the Waster chief's shoulder.

"You have our trust, Jaron." Will speaks loudly enough for the rest of us to hear. "Let us rebuild."

My chest constricts as the people behind me come to life and stream past, moving over the rubble towards the carts. Wasters and Miners come together, helping one another pull the carts forward, unloading the rocks and rolling them to the base of the Wall. I shut my eyes tight for a moment, forcing back the emotion clawing at my throat. I only wish that Meg were here to accept Jaron's handshake herself.

This may be the end of a war, but it is the beginning of something much, much bigger.