Gibnor’s main ledge was bustling with activity. It was all I could do to keep my footing as people brushed past me with their hands full of supplies. Many of them wore animal furs wrapped around their shoulders, evidence of the recent cold front. It reminded me of the markets in Historical Amberasta during the wintertime.“What’s going on?” I asked Sarah, “I’ve never seen Gibnor so busy.”

“We are preparing for Bellgate’s most important celebration, the Solstice Festival. It’s in two weeks.”

I blinked back my surprise. “I had no idea.”

“I’m sure you were busy at the base. But Anabelle, you must come. The festival is almost sacred here. It’s a celebration of this place and its bounty.”

“Then I will come. Is there anything I should prepare?”

“No one will expect you to, but it is an honor to contribute something.”

“Like what?”

“Usually something related to your job. I’m going to cook a dish with the herbs growing at home, and the scouts will bring something from the outside. There will also be songs and poetry—but I won’t tell you everything. Your first festival should be a surprise.”

“Okay, now I’m excited.”

Sarah smiled. “Come on,” she urged, “let’s go look at the preparations.”

I agreed. I had never seen her so enthusiastic. As we walked around the ledge, I realized that all of Gibnor had been infused with new life. All of the people, even the overworked and down-trodden, seemed to have found the time to help. Food was everywhere: sacks of berries, jars of jam, bundles of wheat, and salted meats wrapped in paper. The smell of fat sizzling on the smoker drifted over the crowds, making me salivate.

“The ration law is lifted for the festival,” Sarah said knowingly. “The feasts are bigger than you’ve ever seen. Go to the grocer’s when we’re done. I’m sure they’ll already be selling the extra or overripe goods.”

I licked my lips in anticipation. “Thanks for the tip.”

Sarah led me to one of Gibnor’s common rooms, a large cavern with a small opening to keep out the weather. The sound of warm conversation echoed off the cave walls, and the young and old sat together on pillows. I watched as a child, one of the few in Bellgate, used a mortar and pestle to grind fruit rinds into paint. Next to her, an old man dipped a brush into the paint and stroked it over a piece of taunt canvas. Curious, I leaned over to look, but Sarah pulled me back. “Not yet!” she chided, “You must wait until the festival!”

I laughed. “If you say so.”

“Come here. Perhaps some work will distract you from peeking at others’ work,” she said, gesturing at the opposite wall. Someone had nailed hundreds of cotton strands to the rock, clusters of which were in various stages of being braided. Sarah sat on a pillow and grabbed three new strands, beginning to braid them with her long and nimble fingers. I sat down next to her. “See? Everyone helps when they can.”

“What are these for?”

“The decorations. Next week, we’ll pin dried cactus flowers and soapberries to them.”

I ran a strand of cotton between my fingers. Bellgate’s people never cease to surprise me. In the middle of the desert, they managed to survive and still maintain their humanity.

They must be the most resilient people in the world.

***

I sat across from Owen on the infirmary mattress with my journal in my lap. He was eating chunks of fruit straight out of a can with a fork, and the sound of him chewing punctuated the air every few seconds. It was stiflingly hot, and his sheets were already slick with sweat. In the corner of the room, a radio crackled, delivering the latest news on the warfront. After the breakthrough, Keon’s army had launched a siege on Solokia’s major border cities, providing him with the most tangible gains in the two years we’d been at war.

“It won’t be long before Farstead falls,” the reporter was saying, “and we can expect His Majesty to take full advantage of the city’s munition factories.”

“They’ll burn them before that happens,” Owen injected, his mouth still half-full with fruit.

“-His Majesty’s army did face some resistance from Solokia’s air force and civilians,” she continued, “but Farstead’s mayor has been taken into custody, and we expect the people will surrender shortly. However-”

I twisted the dial, turning off the radio. It had to be the hundredth time that Owen had heard the broadcast—the reporters had reeled off the same story for days. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

“You’ve had that same channel on all day. It’s not doing you any good.” He scowled, but I ignored him. “Plus, the medics will go crazy if they have to hear that shit again.” His face didn’t shift, so I stood up, putting the radio by his bed. “If you want to change it after I leave, be my guest.”

We fell back into silence, and I wrote a few notes in my journal. “Is that for the pamphlet?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied softly. The news about the operation had yet to be released, and telling Owen, a greenhorn who had yet to gain the community’s trust, would certainly be against the rules.

“Then is the printer repaired?”

“Not yet. The ink cartridges weren’t viable, so a team of scouts were sent into Amberasta to look for new materials.”

“That will raise attention.”

“The scouts know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll make the purchases in phases.”

Owen nodded. “Things will change once everyone knows your past, especially the king. He’ll be hunting you.”

“So what? I know for a fact that you’re at the top of his hit list.”

Owen gestured with his fork. “That’s different. I’m just a sack of flesh—I’m not going to expose him.”

I frowned. “Stop saying shit like that.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t your shift soon?”

“I’m not working in the gardens. They relieved me of my duties until the operation is complete.”

“Sounds like they’re trying to keep an eye on you.” I said nothing, and Owen didn’t press the issue. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, and a medic entered holding a clipboard and wooden muscle roller.

“Mr. Hayes,” he said, using Owen’s pseudonym, “are you ready for your physical therapy season?”

Owen’s mouth drew into a thin line, and his eyes narrowed, his frustration at being treated like a patient evident. I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, trying to reassure him.

I left the infirmary and hiked up the stairs to Gibnor’s upper level. When I pushed open the curtain to my dwelling, Sarah was stuffing a sack with bedding. “Is that wash?” I asked, “I’ll take it down to the well.”

“It’s not wash. It’s for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lieutenant Amari informed me that you will be moving to the army base. One of the refugees from the prison break will take your place.”

I stared at her in confusion. I hadn’t been told about moving, and it seemed an underhanded attempt by the elders to keep a tighter watch on me while we worked on Operation Exposé. I couldn’t find the words to reply, and when Sarah looked up again, her eyes were shining. “Anabelle, serve us well.”

My hands shook at my sides. Sarah and I had shared a home for almost two months, and she had been my first real friend in Bellgate. After a moment of hesitation, I embraced her, making her drop the bedding. “Thank you,” I said into her shoulder, “thank you for everything.”

She grew stiff against me, but didn’t pull away. “Take care of yourself… and that young captain. If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

“What?” I exclaimed, horrified that she knew about Nico, but she only laughed.

“Come visit me, if you have the time.”

“I will.”