Crouching outside the capital, a group of rebels at his side, Renit surveys the front gates of the city and the guards, not paying attention, standing around it. Beyond them, buildings of varying height and structure loom like shadows in the dark and Renit recognizes them to be the perfect hiding spots for getting into the city without being detected.

The difficult part, though, is getting inside the city. They could risk the front gates, taking out guards as they go, but that would draw too much attention. Their best bet is to enter through the slums; hardly any guards maintain their stations there and at a time like this, late at night, everyone in the vicinity ventures to the fighting pits. It's the perfect night for Roux to be in there, Renit realizes, but he forces himself to stop thinking about it.

She's been on her own for some time now, without him watching, and although it kills him to not know where she is, Renit has to trust she's fine. Alive and well, resting in the castle underneath the same roof as his father. Hopefully, not under the same duvet, Renit wouldn't put his father past it; he's done worse things in his lifetime.

Alaric has already decided, evident by his hand waving in the opposite direction, gesturing for his rebels to follow. For the most part, the remainder of the group stayed back and away from the capital, hiding in the woods outside the city and waiting for their role. The bigger group they bring along, the likelier it is that one of these guards will discover them rumbling through the brush.

It's just the four of them: Alaric, Renit, Tesha, and Bren. They crouch low and remain in the shadows of the trees, careful not to step over anything prone to making too much noise. Renit has been in these woods too many times to count and hiding more often than not lately. He's not used to not being safe in his own home when once he used to rule these lands and everyone cowered in fear at his presence.

Looking back, he doesn't know how he could have appreciated their fear. It was his father's teachings, lessons that forced him to believe fearful citizens were the only way a leader remained in power. Renit took those teachings and ran with it, he suspected nothing was wrong until Roux came around, and his eyes opened.

His father isn't the king she needs. Silas is. And that goes for everyone else in this kingdom; it's time they receive a new leader that'll make them appreciate the life they live. No one should have to live in fear, Renit has received a healthy dose of it and has to say, it's as frightening as war. Unable to sleep, worrying when you'll be attacked, listening to every small noise, heart racing in fear...the banished prince doesn't want to experience that anymore. He won't wish such a terrible fate on his worst enemy.

Keeping a safe distance away from the stone wall surrounding Mailan, their group of four passes the gates and, by traveling even farther out, reduce the risk of being seen by guards pacing back and forth over the embrasures in the parapet wall. Renit isn't completely embarrassed by his father's men, at least some of them are paying attention. They scan the woods, listening for movements, and aren't constantly carrying copper cups of ale along with them to bring life to the night.

They keep their posts well, but if one of them catches a wink of what is happening outside the wall, in the woods, Tesha will put an arrow through their forehead. She moves on silent feet, almost undetectable, and crouches low with an arrow already nocked onto her bow. Renit wonders how many mortal years she took to perfect the craft of not only stealth but skill, as well.

As an immortal and a prince, Renit was allowed to span his training after so many years—to perfection. Tesha had to do it quickly, her training couldn't be anything short of her entire life. The skill to train with a bow does not happen overnight, and as strong as her aim is, she's been training for years beyond what Renit believes.

The king of Esaria didn't just teach Renit that fearful citizens made for a strong leader. He also made the prince believe that humans had no value. If there is no magic underneath their skin, prickling at their fingertips, then they're worth nothing. As a young witch, even when Darlene was alive, and he wanted to do good, Renit believed him. In the back of his mind, he still keeps that twinge of truth, but it doesn't hold long against Tesha. She's too skilled, too strong, and too wise to be anything less than a witch. He can't see her as the human she's born to be.

They circle around the city, undetected, and as Renit expected, the guard mass slowly recedes. Before they know it, they're completely alone in the slums and the only sound is crickets chirping in the brush, mixing in with the distant thrall of taverns and fighting pits.

Alaric turns around, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight, and jerks his chin towards the prince. "Lead the way," he whispers.

Checking both ways for guards, even listening to an extent that drives Tesha insane with impatience, Renit and the rebels break through from the tree line and carefully make their way through the shadows, towards the rotting and decaying streets of the slums. Sure enough, there aren't any guards where they're supposed to be, and a light two buildings over proves to be the answer.

Renit is familiar with the fighting pit in that building, although she never fought there, he checked every night to make sure she wasn't dying inside. The fighters in those pits are known to cheat their way out with hidden weapons or magic, considering their powers are undetectable or weakened by the titanium walls of the pit. Yet, they somehow slip through and even the smallest fraction of magic can bring down one of the strongest competitors.

He forces himself not to go in that direction to see if she's there. The hoots and hollers call towards him, but Renit forces his steps forward and in the direction of the small attic space he claimed his residence as. Hopefully, no one has taken up that place as their space, the rest of his belongings are still there—if nothing was stolen while he was gone. The rest of the home was decaying on its feet so maybe, just maybe, no one was brave enough to venture inside.

The nuummite necklace bumps against Renit's chest, forced into movement by jogging through the street. He sticks to the alleyways and dark shadows of rubble to keep from anyone seeing their faces. After spending a month in these slums, he knows each way to go, what to avoid, and who will expose him. Familiar faces, all he's kept track of.

But they don't come across any of those tonight. Instead, the streets are empty on this warm summer night and they make it to his attic space without a second thought.

Renit pulls a knife from his belt and carefully makes his way inside. The only sound is the rustle of loose papers scratching against the wall from the sudden draft of air. Floorboards creak underneath their boots, but all remains silent.

"This place is a shithole," Tesha snaps. She finally allows herself to return the arrow to her quiver, flexing her hands once they're free of weaponry. "No wonder no one found you, they'd be afraid of getting crushed by this building." She scrunches up her nose, surveys the ceiling, and frowns.

"It's not ideal, but it'll do," Renit retorts. Still, he's cautious while walking up the stairs and checks every bedroom, even the one that once belonged to a young girl. Everything is still scattered about, untouched from where thieves came through and ripped everything to shreds, and the attic door is shut.

Renit slams his shoulder against it, opening wide, and finds nothing but cold air on the other side. He turns back towards the rebels at the bottom of the stairs and ushers them in. It's the only safe place in this entire residence, no one can see them from the first floor or the streets, it's too dark and the window looking out is too small.

Guards came through here once, looking for him, but gave up on the first floor. Little did they know, the banished prince they searched for was in the attic, a knife pressed against his racing heart. He'd made the foolish mistake of sleeping too hard, and for too long, and didn't have ample time to escape out the back door before they made their way in through the front.

Luckily for him, they weren't thorough. They'd stopped looking once they reached the bedrooms and bounded back down the stairs, asking what tavern they should visit once the raids were over. For a king as cruel as the one they have, Renit thought they'd try a little harder to find him in a place hiding much more than empty beer bottles and discarded toys.

The trunk his belongings are in remains shut, and Renit opens the lid to find everything still inside. Sets of clothes, mostly. Everything else is junk he picked up off the street to make into weapons but never got the chance to do so. Mostly shards of broken glass, sticks, twine, rope, discarded pieces of metal—all of it useful. If only the people in the slums were resourceful; they might band together to take down their king once and for all.

In this small space, there's hardly room for any of them to stretch their arms out from where they're clamped against their bodies. Especially with the door shut and the window closing off any excess air, no one can breathe without everyone else in the room listening.

Bren takes the handle and pulls hard to reveal the hallway. "I'm going to scout the taverns and search for information. If I'm not back in an hour, come looking," he says.

"Be careful," Tesha warns. "Don't make me come looking for you." Bren waves at her over his shoulder carelessly before disappearing down the stairs and appearing out onto the street seconds later. Renit watches him go, vanishing into the night, and focuses back on the situation at hand. The plan to get into the castle, kill the king, and get Roux out.

At least, that's what the rebels believe the plan is. Renit has thought this through, over and over again, and he doesn't see a way to kill the king and get Roux out alive. They have to choose between one or the other, at least for now, and decide at a later time to finish the rest of the plan. And, if the banished prince believes his superstitions, he knows what Bren will go for. Get Roux out. The king's death can come later, and if Roux is on their side, that'll make it easier to get done. Her power doesn't have to be close by to work, she can bring down the castle with the king on the inside, and he won't know where to attack or where she is.

Roux is the key. And Renit will do whatever it takes to ensure she gets out this time around. Without her, they can kiss this plan goodbye.

"How do you suppose we start?" Alaric asks as he takes a seat on an empty crate on the opposite side of the room. Another piece in this small space Renit considered using as a weapon more than once. "There are many ways to go about this, prince, and I want to hear what you have to say."

Tesha monitors the street, remaining in the shadow of the small window to observe two drunk men drooling all over each other, singing jolly tunes about enemies dying at war. Their shrill voices echo off the interior of the buildings and back into the street, carrying over at least two blocks before the strident noise finally dies out.

"You're not going to like what I have to say," Renit says with a shake of his head.

Tesha's stare whips over to him, dark locks waving wide around her head before falling straight against her back once more. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind," she snaps. "Don't tell me you're focusing on getting your precious princess out of there before we kill the king."

"Hear me out." Renit exposes his hands and raises his eyebrows at Alaric, silently asking if he can continue; if the rebel commander is willing to hear him out. His citrine eyes roll high, but he waves his hand for Renit to continue. "We can't kill the king if we don't have her."

They wait, silence weighing down on their shoulders. "You're lying. We have an entire group of rebels here, they can take the castle and kill the king like that." Tesha snaps her fingers.

"I think you're forgetting the most important factor here." Renit dares to meet her eye and finds the three scars down her cheek blanched in the moonlight. He never asked how she got those wounds, whatever happened in those flower meadows was enough to do her in—and those weren't created by man. Either they were self-inflicted in a mad dash to get away, or the king had a fancy new beast on his side. This time, not controlled by a potion. "She's a witch of ground, she'll crush all of you before you can even get close to the king."

Tesha shrugs with a simple solution in her mind. "Then we kill her. Quick and easy, arrow through the skull. She won't be a problem anymore."

The banished prince forces himself to tug down on his anger and hide it deep inside. "No, she's not dying. And Bren will agree with that, too. We don't waste her life."

"You're betting that the leader of a rebel division is going to allow his personal affairs to get in the way of the biggest trophy this kingdom has?" Tesha laughs, leaning forward with a grin. "Bren wants the king's head, not Roux."

His anger slips off its leash, power wakening, and both rebels in the room tense. Lightning travels up his neck from the inside, turning his silver eyes into a metallic blue, veins becoming white with the force of storm, and Renit takes a deep breath. Not now, he will not allow himself to burst in the smallest room known to Mailan. He'll kill them both, and it won't be just the king the rebels come after anymore. It'll be him, too.

"That's quite a frightening trick you have there," Tesha says quietly, as to not startle his power further.

Renit coughs, clearing the rest of the smoke from his throat. He's caught himself in that condition more than once when his body physically can't control the magic anymore. Where his veins once were, hidden underneath his skin, lightning replaces them and travels all over his body. His eyes turn that shade, and thunderclouds boom in his throat.

"It's...new." Renit sighs and drags a hand down his face. "Without a proper Grounding, my magic is stronger and stronger every day. And I'm trying to keep it contained for when we infiltrate the castle." The last of the thunder leaves him with a splitting headache and he forces himself to sit on the cot he once called his bed.

No one speaks in fear of another attempted Outburst. He can't go on much longer like this, not if he plans to do anything worth saving Roux.

"Listen, Renit, I know this is hard," Alaric speaks after a while. "But if there's a chance we can't get Roux out—"

"Then kill me, too," Renit interrupts. "Because I do not leave without her."

Alaric backs down, nodding silently. The glare from Renit is enough to make him do so, no one wants to see him physically become a lightning bolt again.

Steps echo through the building and Renit presses a finger to his lips, waiting. But it doesn't take long for him to recognize the familiarity of Bren walking up the stairs, knocking twice before opening the door. He peeks his head in, orange hair in disarray, and checks to ensure no one is waiting to stab him in the throat.

"Well?" Renit asks. "You're back sooner than expected."

Bren shuts the door behind him, eyes wide with fear. "It didn't take long." He swallows. "Everyone's talking about it." Hands shaking, he forces himself to sit down.

Stepping forward, Tesha bridges the space between the two of them and blocks Renit off. The only thing that would upset Bren this much is...something about Roux. The banished prince's heart immediately sinks. If this was all for nothing and something happened to her...

"What is it?" Tesha demands. "Spit it out."

The witch of flame sitting across the room doesn't look to her or Alaric. Instead, his stare never once leaves Renit's. "Roux's official title is the king's third hand, correct?" He questions.

Renit nods. He can feel his hands beginning to shake, his guts churning with uncertainty, his head spinning with everything that could have been done to her. He doesn't know what he'll do with himself if Roux is dead; all the effort put into bringing her back, he hasn't eaten, slept, or let himself breathe enough to have this fail. She can't be gone—not yet.

Everyone prepares themselves for the worst.

"Word has spread from the castle. Apparently, days ago, the king and his third hand...departed for war." The air in the room stales. "Roux is fighting in the war."