My shoulder hisses and spits, spewing fire. I scream and thrash on the bed, my hands flailing blindly and sometimes connecting with one of the faceless figures hovering over me.
Someone places a hand on my brow and I bat them away. My every sinew calls out for escape, urges me to run, but my traitorous limbs feel strangely heavy and weak. My legs kick and tangle in the sheets, dampening them with my continual sweating.
I exist between fits of terrifying consciousness and burning darkness. From somewhere in the recesses of my mind, memories stir. I fight to grasp onto them while I sleep, slowly piecing myself back together. I wake, and for the briefest of moments I am aware of Meg's voice, or of Will's touch. I remember my friends, our fight. I remember why I have to wake up.
Gradually, the fear recedes and the haze clears. I briefly register someone spooning food and water into my mouth, rubbing my back when I cough and murmuring kind words as I drift back to sleep.
When I finally find the strength to ease my eyes open, the light is almost piercing in its brightness. I try again and eventually, the room swims into focus.
I am still in the bed Meg tucked me into, though I am clean and someone has changed my clothes. White, breezy curtains are tucked around my cot, blocking my view of the infirmary. I try to raise myself into a sitting position and groan when my shoulder protests. Collapsing back onto the soft cushions, I ease the neck of my shift down, poking at a thick, padded bandage before I examine the rest of my body. A cursory check reveals that my entire torso has been swathed in linen bandages but my various bruises have already begun to fade. I throw the covers aside and find that my left knee has also been wrapped heavily and is propped up on a cushion.
I hear the curtain being pulled back and look up. Will steps through, his eyes widening when he sees me looking at him. A smile breaks out over his face, both sides of his mouth lifting simultaneously.
"You're awake," he says simply, keeping his voice low. There must be more patients outside.
"I think so."
He sinks onto the edge of my bed and helps me sit up, offering a glass of water once I'm comfortable.
We sit in companionable silence while I drink; at some point I realize that Will has taken hold of my hand. A small part of me wishes to pull back, but I remain still, content to just have him with me, alive and whole.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, eventually.
I sigh contentedly. "The best I've been in days."
"I'm glad to hear it. Some people have been extremely concerned about you."
"Some people?" I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. "Not you?"
"Not for a moment. After everything you've been through, I refused to believe that you'd be taken down by anything as ordinary as a fever." He smirks but I notice the unsightly shadows bordering his grey eyes.
"So long as I have your vote of confidence, Will Cain, I shall remain standing," I tease.
He laces his fingers more securely with mine and squeezes my hand tightly.
"How long was I out?" I ask, wrinkling my brow as I try to remember.
"Five days," he replies. "I had to stitch up your shoulder and parts of your back, so you're going to feel some tenderness back there."
I grimace, suddenly remembering the ugly network of scars that will surely mark my body forever. Deep in the gaol, it didn't matter, but out here it is difficult to keep at bay the anger I feel, knowing the King's cruelty will always be a part of my skin.
"You'll be scarred, yes."
I start at the sound of Will's voice, for a moment thinking I have spoken my thoughts aloud. His thick brows are lowered and he looks directly into my eyes, his gaze determined.
"Don't think of them as punishment: let them be a symbol of what you've overcome."
I think back to the sight of Will's own scarred back, the taut skin riddled with his father's hateful lessons. When I see Will's scars, I don't see his weakness; I see his strength. That is what my own marks will be for me.
I nod. "Thank you. For coming back."
"Kay, I..." He looks down at our intertwined fingers and back up at me. "I'm sorry that I didn't come sooner."
Something constricts in my chest and I tug my hand free, avoiding his gaze. "We don't have to talk about it."
"You have to understand, I never wanted to leave you down there. As soon as we received word of your arrest, Meg and I set about trying to rescue you."
I can hear the urgency in his voice, but I still can't bring myself to look at him, instead concentrating on picking at the bandage circling my knee.
The horrible feeling of isolation creeps up on me. Left to rot in that dungeon, dragged back and forth between a cell and a torture chamber, seeing no one but my tormentor until I was finally, mercifully granted execution. The scars may not permit me to forget the experience, but gods help me, I'm going to try anyway.
"I was implicated as a conspirator as soon as they caught you," Will continues. "I couldn't go near the Palace. They closed the gates and increased security. It wasn't even safe to step out into the streets—the King had his guards combing every square inch of the City in search of Meg."
I pick more furiously at the bandage. "It's fine, Will, really. I understand."
"I don't." His large hand comes down on top of mine, ceasing my fidgeting. "I put you in danger; I broke your trust. You should hate me."
"It's not your fault, what happened." I finally manage to drag my eyes up to him. "I'm not angry. Not anymore."
The muscles in his jaw flex. "I should have protected you. I should have been there."
"I didn't want you to. What I wanted was for you to finish what we started." I hold his gaze with mine, wanting to be as clear as possible. "And you did, Will. So don't think for a moment that you ever let me down. Nothing could be further from the truth."
The relief that crosses his strong features tugs at my heart. I know what it is to feel a burden lift from your shoulders, and I am glad to help him alleviate some of his lingering guilt.
"Besides," I say, remembering the words he said to me on a rooftop, long ago, "it's difficult to be angry, when I'm so impressed."
He smiles in that small way and leans in toward me.
I stiffen, but he simply peels back the bandage on my shoulder and begins to examine my stitches, prodding gently.
"The dramatics were quite unlike you," I tell him, registering how close our faces are. "Waiting until the eleventh hour and then showing up with airships. You really know how to make a girl sweat."
He laughs lightly as he replaces my bandage. "We had to hold off until they brought you above ground. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get to you otherwise."
"I never doubted you for an instant." I allow a trace of sarcasm to slip into my tone.
"Your execution provided the ideal opportunity to attack. You managed to get the King and his advisors, together with all the highest-ranking courtiers, gathered together out in the open. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect setup."
"Ah, yes. You have my natural ability to draw a crowd to thank for that."
His smile disappears as his brow furrows. His eyes scan my face carefully, as though searching for something.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I can't believe how close I came to losing you."
"Will..."
"You're everything to me, Kay," he interrupts me, and my mouth snaps closed; I bite down hard on this inside of my cheek. "When you left me in that alley, it was as though some part of myself had been torn suddenly away. Then, when I heard you were arrested..." He shakes his head as his jaw clenches. "I've had some horrible experiences, but none of them compare to what I felt when you were taken from me."
I stare at him, waiting.
"I can't imagine my life without you in it."
"Why are you telling me this?" I whisper, feeling my heart twist in my chest.
"I'm sorry, I know I've never had...a soft touch," he says clumsily. "Please, just let me get through this."
I nod, dumbly.
"I've tried to make up for my past mistakes." He clears his throat and starts again. "This rebellion became an obsession and—if I'm being completely honest—it was more to me than just a cause." He tilts his head up, imploring me to understand. "It was also a way to redeem myself. To make up for everything I've done wrong."
There's a sentiment I can understand.
"I used you, Kay," he continues, speaking quickly. "I put your life in danger so I could further my plans. You were always my greatest ally and I let my own issues get in the way of us trusting each other. When I think back to how different things could have been..." He runs a hand over his scruffy head, his voice breaking. "I could have kept you from getting hurt."
I reach forward, slipping my hand around the back of his neck and forcing his gaze into mine, barely noticing the pain in my shoulder when it pulls at the movement.
"Listen to me," I tell him firmly. "I am here. You are here. The City is still standing. The past might be a part of who we are, but it doesn't define us. What has happened will make us stronger, will make us better." I draw back. "We've been hurt but we aren't broken."
"I love you," he says, simply.
My heart neglects its beat.
"I always have, since I first spoke to you in my father's library. I don't deserve your forgiveness, Kay, let alone your love. Frankly, I think you would be better off without me." He takes a breath. "I know I've probably ruined my chance to be with you, but I thought I lost you once already and..." He trails off, his grey eyes searching my face as he gently pushes a strand of hair back behind my ear. "I just needed you to know."
I bite my lip, studying him. My sore arm lifts to caress his bearded cheek, slowly moving up to smooth the worried lines between his thick brows.
After a moment, a smile slowly spreads over my face, echoing the cautious lift at the side of his mouth.
Wordlessly, he cups my chin with his hand and brings his mouth down on mine, kissing me deeply. I feel no pain as I wrap my arms around him, drawing him as close as my battered body will allow, fitting perfectly against him like a brick to mortar.
When we draw apart, we are both grinning crazily at each other.
"I love you, too," I tell him plainly. "You're it for me, Will."
He kisses me again, pushing the unruly curls back from my face.
"I'm so glad you're here," he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine.
"I thought you weren't worried about me?"
He shakes his head. "All I can do is try not to worry. Gods know that you're always going to do exactly what you please, regardless."
"I don't know about that." I roll my shoulder back, grimacing. "I've been thinking lately that there might be something to your philosophy of taking a more careful approach to problems."
His brows shoot up in surprise. "Is that so?"
"Don't get me wrong," I say, quickly. "I still think you take entirely too long to act. Luckily, you have me to push you in the right direction."
"I don't know if 'push' is the right word. Perhaps 'bully' is more accurate."
"Regardless of all that, I can't deny that your overly complicated and meticulously organized rebellion completely worked." I grasp his hand. "You did it, Will."
"We did it." His grip tightens. "The people have rallied behind Meg, and it's all thanks to you. It was you who saw Meg's potential to be queen. Your intuition led to us taking back the City while keeping the monarchy intact." He prods my leg gently. "You saved lives. I hope you realize that."
I have to look away from him for a few moments, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Meg. I am so incredibly proud of her, so grateful for the sacrifices she made in order to free us. My heart constricts in my chest at the thought of my queen, scarcely believing that I can also consider her my friend.
Eventually, I am able to speak. "What are we going to do now? I've never really thought past this part."
He chortles softly. "Meg has everything pretty well in hand. Her first act as Queen was to abolish the separate sectors."
"No more Court and Commons?" I have imagined this moment countless times, but now that it has finally happened, I find myself unable to comprehend the change.
"That's right."
I shake my head, still disbelieving. "What else did I miss?"
"The people injured during the Runner's Rebellion are being cared for here at the Palace, and the dead have been buried with full honours."
"Wait, what was that?" I blink.
"The Runner's Rebellion." He laughs at my shocked expression. "It's the name we've given to a great historical event. You've been absent for quite a while, Red. You may find that people regard you a little differently now."
"Different, how?"
"You're a hero." He says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "How do you think we finally managed to persuade the commoners to take up arms and storm the Palace? News of your arrest stirred something within people. Word spread about how you had infiltrated the Palace and openly defied the King. You inspired them."
I fall back against the pillow, staring blankly at my bandaged knee. "This is mad."
"Now, don't go getting a big head," he mock-scolds. "There's still a lot to be done. Queen Megra has ordered that she be informed the minute you wake up. In truth, I could be tempting a charge of high treason for keeping you to myself for so long."
"What a risk-taker you are," I tease before he pulls me to him again.