The sun hung high and merciless, turning the Wasteland into an open furnace. Every breath felt like inhaling hot sand, and the sweat dripping from Aris's forehead stung her eyes. She kept moving anyway, her steps steady, her gaze fixed on the distant, rusted cylinder rising above the ruins.
The water tower.
In the Wasteland, few words sounded as sweet.
Kael walked beside her, his armor long since gone from polished to dust-caked. He didn't complain about the heat, or the thirst, or the fact that he was still following a scavenger who kept threatening to sell him. He just walked — watchful, quiet, and weirdly willing to play by her rules.
Aris found it increasingly suspicious.
Warlords didn't follow. They commanded.
They didn't tolerate ropes, or insults, or being called merchandise.
But Kael did.
Either he was biding his time until he could kill her and escape, or he'd lost his mind.
Aris wasn't sure which option was more annoying.
"If you're planning to murder me the second I turn my back, can you wait until after we get water?" she said casually. "Dying of thirst is a terrible way to go. Much less dramatic than you deserve."
Kael glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I'm not going to murder you."
"Everyone plans to murder me at some point," Aris said flatly. "It's a hazard of being good at finding valuables and refusing to share."
"I'm not everyone," Kael said.
Aris snorted. "That's what they all say right before they try to steal my stuff."
She fell silent, focusing on the water tower growing closer. It was leaning slightly, half-covered in vines and rust, but it still stood — and that meant it might still hold water. Clean, drinkable, life-saving water.
When they finally reached the base, Aris held up a hand to stop Kael. She crept forward slowly, knife in hand, checking every shadow, every collapsed corner, every place someone could hide.
Ambush was the oldest trick in the Wasteland.
But the area was empty. Silent. Nothing but wind and rust and the distant buzz of flies.
Aris relaxed, just a fraction. "Clear."
Kael joined her at the metal ladder leading up the side of the tower. The rungs were rusted and wobbly, but sturdy enough to hold their weight.
"I'll go up first," Aris said. "If the ladder breaks, you can catch me. Or not. Your call."
"I'll catch you," Kael said, without hesitation.
Aris blinked. She hadn't expected that.
She quickly recovered, scowling. "Don't get heroic. I'm still selling you."
"Naturally," Kael said.
Aris started climbing, her hands wrapping around the rusted metal. The ladder creaked under her, but held. She pulled herself up until she reached the small platform at the top, then peered inside.
The tank was half-full.
And the water looked clean.
Aris almost cried.
She settled for a sharp, victorious grin.
"It's full!" she called down. "Decent water too! Bring the canteens up!"
Kael climbed up after her, moving with far more grace than the wobbly ladder deserved. He handed her the empty canteens, and Aris immediately began filling them — slowly, carefully, not wasting a single drop.
She filled her own, then Kael's, then stuffed spares she'd looted from the market into her backpack until every container was full. Water sloshed gently, the sound like music to her ears.
"We could survive a week on this," she said, almost to herself. "Maybe two, if we're careful."
Kael leaned against the tower's edge, looking out over the endless ruins. "You've done this alone for a long time."
Once again, it wasn't a question.
Aris's hands stilled around the canteen. She hated this — the quiet, the observations, the way he acted like he understood her. Understanding led to attachment. Attachment led to death.
"I'm good at being alone," she said, her voice sharp.
"Everyone is good at being alone," Kael said quietly. "That doesn't mean it's what they want."
Aris snapped the canteen closed and turned on him, eyes blazing. "I don't want anything except water, coins, and to not get shot. I don't want company. I don't want friends. I don't want a warlord following me around looking tragic. I want to sell you and be done with it."
Kael looked at her, his golden eyes calm and unoffended. "Then why haven't you?"
Aris froze.
The question hung in the hot air, heavy and unavoidable.
Why hadn't she?
She'd had chances. Markets, opportunities, perfect moments to hand him over for a fortune.
But every time, something — raiders, scavengers, a random kid in a tunnel — got in the way.
Or had she let them get in the way?
She refused to think about it.
"Because the timing was bad!" she snapped, defensive. "Because every buyer got us chased! Because you're terrible merchandise! Don't flatter yourself into thinking it's personal. It's business. Always business."
Kael didn't argue. He just nodded, like he believed her.
Or like he knew she was lying.
Aris hated that she couldn't tell which.
She turned back to the water tank, slamming the last canteen shut and shoving it into her bag. "We're done here. We move west. Away from the raiders, away from markets, away from everything until I decide you're safe enough to sell."
"West," Kael repeated. "That's toward the Black Fort."
Aris froze again.
She'd meant to say east. Or south. Anywhere but the Black Fort.
But her mouth had betrayed her.
Her brain knew.
Somewhere deep down, she'd always known they'd end up there.
She turned slowly, her expression carefully neutral. "So what if it is? Your old fortress probably has supplies. Weapons. Water. Things I can sell. I'm not helping you reclaim it. I'm looting it. Understand?"
Kael's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"Of course," he said. "Just business."
Aris glowered, but she couldn't fight the small, stupid flutter in her chest.
She was doomed.
Absolutely, completely, doomed.
But she was still going to sell him.
Probably.