They observe each other for a long moment, Alicia taking in Samantha's relatively clean clothes, her steel grey waistcoat, knee high brown boots, and loose white shirt. The wild curls of her hair are now wound in a tight bun, revealing her round cheeks and array of freckles. She stands with her shoulders straight, her chin held high, and Alicia remembers the promises she made the queen.

Find Samantha, that's what she asked.

Well, she's found the princess, but now she can't tell her that her mother is dead, that the woman is proud of her and never stopped loving her. Alicia knows too much to reveal who she is because what she knows is dangerous.

She doesn't want to think about it, she wants to push the loss back as she's always done. But this world is demanding she feel every morsel of her hurt and she doesn't know how much more she can take.

"Every exile has a story to tell," Samantha starts, leaning a hip against the desk, her eyes on the maps and writings on the table between them. "I'd like to know yours."

Drawing in a breath, Alicia nods. She's played this game before. She knows how to weave half-truths and lies together to concoct a believable story. Most of the time, people don't look at her twice anyway.

"My pa was infected with the Reaper's Curse," Alicia says, rubbing her palm, her calluses having formed again these last two months. "I was with him when he died and was exiled for it."

Samantha opens her mouth to speak, that pity shining in her amber eyes again, but she's interrupted.

"Ezekiel Zalana."

Alicia whips her head around at the mention of her pa's name to see Oliver leaning against the window ledge with his legs crossed at the ankles.

"I'm surprised he lived this long," he elaborates, those silver eyes piercing into her like blades. "He couldn't possibly have managed to pay off his debt to the Ronavics. I saw the numbers." Oliver's features are a slate of stone, giving away nothing.

Alicia can't tell what his motivations are for trying to trip her up, make her reveal more than she's willing to. But Alicia has lived these past few years learning to endure the talons of vultures, she can manage anything these people have to throw at her.

"My pa went to war and he sobered up." Swallowing the pain that wells in her throat, Alicia tries not to think of his blood staining the floorboards, drenching her hands. "He was a good man."

"When were you exiled?" Samantha interrupts and Alicia is thankful for the shift in questioning.

"Two months ago."

"And you've been with Kathryn all that time?"

Alicia's gaze flicks between Samantha's, the desperation that shines within them twisting her stomach. She already fears where this line of questioning is taking them. "Yes."

"Then she must have mentioned at some point the supplies she knew were hidden. Supplies she was planning on giving us."

Narrowing her eyes, Alicia sees through her words. Kathryn never spoke about giving the supplies to anyone. She didn't even speak about journeying to retrieve them. But Alicia sees it in the princess' eyes; she isn't going to stop until she gets what she needs. Alicia will walk through the Commons known as the woman who refused to aid these people.

If she has any hope of survival, she needs this place to be her home.

Alicia's fingers wrap around the strap of her satchel as an idea forms in her head. "I can't give you the supplies Kathryn never told me about," she says. "But I might be able to offer you something else."

"Anything," Samantha breathes, straightening. "Anything at all."

Alicia takes a breath.

She shouldn't know this, not as Alicia Zalana, but it's a gamble she has to see through to make allies.

"There's a homestead I know of. The Costa mill. There's an infirmary there. It's hidden, so there's a good chance no one has found the supplies."

Samantha glances at Oliver, her eyebrows rising.

"It's worth a shot," Oliver remarks.

"Galya and I will go first thing in the morning with our best riders," Sam says, ebony eyes sparking with light as she grabs a pencil and drags a map to herself. She glances up at Alicia, the eagerness in her soft features almost infectious. "Where on the map?"

"I'll go with you," Alicia tells her, stepping closer to the table to inspect the map even as Sam shakes her head.

"You don't have to do that. You should rest after your journey."

"I want to," she insists, though want is a relative term. She needs to. She needs to bury the last piece of her past and what better place than where she buried the other pieces? "I've been there before, I know the roads." Alicia takes one of the scattered pencils from the table and marks the place on the map where the mill is, nestled amongst trees by a river that flows all the way to the walls of the capital.

Alicia pulls back her hand but Sam grabs it before she can, looking her in the eye and smiling softly before speaking, "Thank you. Kindness is a rarity in this land, but I hope to repay you for what you're doing for us."

"I'm sure anyone would have done the same."

Sam's smile simply becomes sad as a reply.

Oliver follows her like a wolf does a rabbit, shadows sinking into the sharpness of his features, eyes a glint in the light of the moon. Alicia stops in the street, letting out a breath, air fogging before her face.

She turns towards him, facing the man that has stood by her side and stared death in the face with her.

They haven't seen each other since before the war, when she was a very different person, but she has a feeling he knows her, or knows what lies within her. The latter terrifies her more than she'll ever be willing to admit.

"You have ulterior motives for going back out there," he states.

Alicia frowns, shifting, digging her heel into the dirt of the road. "What gives you that idea?"

"You're sane," he says cryptically. "Any sane person would be terrified of going back out there after what happened to you."

"Fine," Alicia relents, shaking her head and gazing up at the stars that peek through the clouds. "My ulterior motive is that I want to help people. I heard about the Ruga flu." Focusing her gaze back on him, she watches as he pulls out a silver tin, wary of the things running through his mind.

She gets the feeling these people won't crucify her for being betrothed to Sebastian, but they just might if they learn about the grand duke trying to control Ghuls, and that she's planning on burying the only evidence she has of that so she can leave it all behind.

It's what she should have done in the first place. Her pa may still be alive if she had.

"Smoke?" Oliver offers the container to her lined with cigarettes. She hesitates for a long moment, arms wrapped around herself. Then she steps forward, moving closer to him to take one of the cigarettes and put it between her lips. He strikes a match, holds it up to her, and lights the smoke as she shields it from the cold wind. She takes a deep drag of the tobacco as she steps back, watching him light his own.

Silence stretches between them as the simplicity of their movements settles something within Alicia, pale smoke passing between them on the breeze. Her fingers shake slightly as she lifts her hand to her lips, the cold numbing her fingers and near freezing her nose. But she keeps her eyes on the man and doesn't let them stray.

"You'll be alright out there," he reassures her, beginning to walk. She falls into step beside him, a part of her comforted by the slight familiarity of his presence. It's a relief after everything that's transpired in the last week.

"I hope so."

"I won't be going with you, but Galya will be and she's one of the best shots we have in this place. She also has a way of making sure Sam doesn't do something stupid."

"What will you do?"

Oliver's gaze settles ahead of them as they walk, towards the walls of the Commons. "I'll be making sure the exiles don't attempt something."

"You think they would?" Alicia tries to hide her shudder.

"Warren is a stubborn man."

"Who is he?"

Oliver sighs, lowering his gaze to the dirt. "He's a leader of a group of exiles, the group that I believe the man who was attacking you is from. Warren isn't someone you want to meet."

Alicia stops walking then, sucking in a sharp breath of the cold air. "Is he an older man with a cigar and blue eyes?"

Oliver turns to her, tilting his head. "Sounds like him."

"I believe I've already met him." Oliver's lips part slightly, but Alicia can only stare towards those walls and wonder what would have happened had she not escaped that man. "He killed Kathryn." Alicia blinks rapidly as tears prick at her eyes and she feels the pain, the guilt, rising like a swelling wave within her, trying to crack through the numbness that shields her like a thin layer of ice.

Oliver steps forward, cupping her shoulders and dragging her attention back to him. She looks into his sterling gaze, the wave receding until it's simply a cry at the back of her mind.

"That wasn't your fault," he tells her firmly. Alicia almost believes him in that moment, but then she sees Kathryn die all over again, her blood spilling onto the forest floor, dead to protect Alicia from torture.

"She wanted me to adapt to this land, she wanted me to survive. But I don't think I know how." Alicia lowers her gaze, staring at the buttons on Oliver's shirt. "I shouldn't have been captured. It was either Warren torture me until Kathryn broke, or Kathryn die. She chose my life." Alicia's lips tremble as she fights to keep the tears at bay. "So, yes, it was my fault. And nothing can convince me otherwise." Alicia steps away from him as he continues to stare at her. She tosses her cigarette, swallows her sorrow and raises her chin. "I think it's time I went back to my room." She turns away, moving back to that house of ghosts she knows she'll never make her own, no matter how much she pretends she'll be able to.

"I'll find him, Alicia, and I'll kill him for what he did."

Alicia stops suddenly, staring at the darkened spaces between homes. "I don't want revenge," she tells him, looking over her shoulder with a deep crease between her brows. "Revenge is a fool's errand."

"And what of justice?" he questions simply, crushing his cigarette under his heel.

"Disguise it in whatever you want," she scolds. "Kathryn deserved better but I'm done fighting for foolish things." She walks away and doesn't look back again.