By the time Renit hands me a handkerchief, I finally have a bearing over my emotions. I wipe away the tears from my cheeks, smudged in dirt caked on my skin for days now. If I was sleeping for two days in that wagon, put underneath the illusion I needed by Binx, I haven't bathed.

Renit doesn't know what to say. He sits there, his forearms rested on his knees, and watches me wipe away the last of my sorrows. His scarred hands don't reach out to touch me, and he doesn't take me in his arms, wrapping my body in such warmth I'll never want to leave it. Although he may want to do those things, he's resisting each urge his body is throwing at him.

And I respect that. He doesn't question me, doesn't speak, doesn't try to tell me that everything will be all right. If he does, if he decided to change his tactic, it would become overwhelming. As if he has done this thousands of times before, consoled witches that've been under the influence of his father, he doesn't speak. Instead, his silent presence does all the talking.

I wipe my nose with the handkerchief and tuck a piece of tattered, scarlet hair behind my ear. At some point under the king's influence, I thought it was a good idea to cut the length back to my collarbones because it'd be easier to kill people if my hair wasn't in the way. The simple Roux, the normal one, would have pulled the strands behind her head and been done with it. But the Roux he made me into...I look at her in disgust.

My entire body shivers in remembrance of what it felt like to wish for the king's blessing. It was addicting to stride after him and beg for acceptance in the only way I knew how—kill who needed to die. In a way, a twisted way, I became Renit's replacement and did everything the king would have ordered him to do; if it wasn't for the banishment.

Both of us are on the other side now, recovering from such a disastrous experience, and the resemblance tethers us together.

"Renit," I squeak, unable to make out any other words. He leans closer, his silver eyes waiting in anticipation for what I might say next. Through the sob, my words are cracked and dry with shattered pieces. "I've done so many things...I've killed...so many people."

The banished prince of Esaria shakes his head in denial. He won't accept the grave I've dug for myself, and to prove that, he gets on his knees between the two beds no more than rickety frames with mattresses on top, disguised by fluffy pillows and duvets. I stare down at those beautiful eyes and the hard face they offset, the dark brows that create a concerned crease in the middle, just above his broad nose.

"We're all killers," he says quietly. "Through one way or the other, everyone has blood on their hands, and it's not just you. Those things that happened—my father caused them—not you. All of us, especially me, have had to take parts of ourselves away to survive and thrive. We've had to sacrifice others so we could live."

A tear breaks loose from the corner of my eye and with such a delicate touch, Renit wipes it away with a simple brush of his finger. The warmth barely reaches my skin. "Except I wasn't living. I was killing, I was taking lives that have never once belonged to me and I loved it. I did it, otherwise, he wouldn't have accepted me. And that was all I cared about."

"Again, that wasn't you. Can you honestly tell me that the witch I'm looking at, the true Roux Aimrey, would have killed all those people?" It's such a simple question to ask, and such a truth it's hard to ignore.

"But if I could do those things without question, without remorse, don't you think part of me is willing to do those things?" My bottom lip quivers. "I was still there, deep down, but I didn't try to stop myself. Not with any of the deaths. There wasn't anything left."

A sob breaks loose from my throat. Renit watches me carefully, nestled on the floor and staring up at me. Our powers are still learning how to be around each other again, they're still mingling underneath the grip of the titanium, but their interaction is dulled. After a bond so strong was nearly snapped by the king's power, they're rejoicing in their friendship.

In a witch, there are two living beings. One is the magic; one is the soul that inhabits the living truth. Some consider them to be one in the same, but those that have Groundings know that the two are very different. Witches themselves, like me, can't control what their power is drawn to. Since it's Renit's, a silent communication in my body no better than a buzzing feeling in my core, is what drives my power in his direction.

And the same has to be happening for him. A Grounding is near the top of the list for the strongest of bonds between two witches, and that proved its point in the throne room. If it wasn't for the Grounding, Renit wouldn't have broken through the king's power. Even before the original witches, there were Groundings, and that's what makes it so strong.

Those spells put in place by the originals weren't going to stand up to the powers of a Grounding, a power's love for another was unbreakable. It's understandable why most Grounding pairs fall in love shortly after they've been placed together. The same has happened to me.

"The king's influence was strong," Renit promises. "There's no way anyone would've been able to break through that." He dares to brace a hand against my knee, and I prepare myself for what the touch might do. But instead of flinching away from it, I embrace the warmth after so long of feeling cold.

I swallow down the lump in my throat as the emotion rises again. "I've done so many terrible things; not just killing. I ended a war that never should've been mine. I almost killed you in the throne room, and I've separated myself so far from Celestine that I don't know where she is."

"Roux, you don't think I've done worse things?" Renit presses a hand against his chest, directly over his heart. "I've been alive for three hundred years and that entire time, I've acted on my father's orders because that was all I knew. What you've done, what you were forced to do, you haven't scratched the surface." He shakes his head at me. I find myself locked onto his silver eyes. "I'm not saying you shouldn't feel saddened, that would be wrong. Everyone goes about grief different, just know that in my eyes, you are not what my father made you to be."

I roll up the sleeve of the tunic given to me and reveal the tattoo underneath. "People will see this, and they're going to wonder."

Renit mimics my movement, rolling up his own sleeve to reveal the three lines twisting together like the most intricate of dance moves. Oisin in the middle, him and Darlene on the outside to always protect their son. "When people see this, they don't know what it's for. They don't know this tattoo is for the family I created. When they see this, they see the title my father gave to me—the king's weapon."

I smile down at his tattoo and run my fingers over the dark ink. Renit doesn't move away from my touch, he leans into it and asks for more, taking my hand in his and intertwining our fingers together.

Through a quiet laugh, I say, "We're more alike now than ever."

Renit's smile is blocked by him bringing the back of my hand to his lips and kissing gently. Directly over the royal emblem. I begin to forget about the world outside Arego, if there even is one, to begin with; I don't know what to believe anymore. What is right in front of me, this silver-eyed prince with a past I can't fix, he'll be my revival as I was his.

"Listen, Roux," he mutters. Our hands slide out from they'd been clasped together, and he raises himself onto his knees so we're face to face. "I am far from perfect, but I'll do anything to ensure you're safe. I don't care what it takes—after this, I'm not letting my father near you again. I learned my faults from the last time, and I'm not willing to risk it. I'll follow you into hell if that's what it takes to keep you safe. We'll protect each other, not a single soul will come before yours. Together, we'll ride out every storm and find what's on the other side."

I smile through the tears at his pledge. My heart flutters with a renounced sense of love for the witch kneeling before me, his hand sliding so tightly around mine that I wonder how I ever went without that touch.

"You're fine with caring for a monster?" I ask mockingly. The strain to make a joke in the first place is sickening. I can't reach that point of myself, not yet.

Renit's grin gets me more than halfway there. "You're not a monster." He kisses the back of my hand again. "But if it makes you feel any better, I'm more than okay with loving you."

I can't decide what I like most about what's in front of me—Renit's kisses to my skin, his bright eyes once again restored with liveliness, the smile he can't seem to shake, or the relief that he's actually here. Everything fits so perfectly together, the smell of rain soothes me to the core, and I don't feel so sick anymore.

"I want to hear about everything," I demand. "I want to hear what you've been doing these past months."

Renit sighs. "To put it simply, I was trying to rescue you. But it was so difficult, you were always near the king or Binx—" he says the same with a certain disgust "—and I didn't know how in the hell I would get you out. If it wasn't for Bren, I don't think it would've happened."

"What did you...what happened for you to know I used the reserve?" I fiddle with the chain around his neck, pulling out the nuummite he's carried with him. Through it all, by noticing the grime in the chain, he hasn't taken it off.

"The Grounding alerted me," he says. "I vomited all over, I couldn't control it. I felt what you were going through."

I wonder what he must've been thinking at that moment, the fear he expressed. A Drainage for a witch so young is dangerous, it's likely the reserve is the only thing that kept me alive. Renit realizes that, yet he doesn't scold me for going too far with my power. If I hadn't, I might not be sitting here today in front of him.

"Darius was there," I recall. "I tried to get him to come back to the castle with us, but he wanted to aid the remainder of the troops in burying the bodies."

"Did he notice your condition?"

I nod, even if it aches my neck to do so. "He did. And he wasn't very keen on it, or Binx."

Renit snarls and scrunches up his nose. "I don't think anyone likes him right now."

I trace his face with my finger, starting at his forehead and following along the plane of his cheekbone to reach his jaw, hovering just over the space next to his ear. "I want to talk to him first," I say quietly. "He's not to die, understand?"

"Roux, he forced you to—"

I grip onto his ear. "He's not to die."

Renit, unaware whether he should move or not, uses his words instead. "Understood."

I twist the dark strands of his hair through my fingers. He doesn't move or ask me why I want to keep Binx alive. I understand he's done terrible things, and I lost part of my life I'll never get back, but before anything happens, I want to know why he did it. There are many reasons, whether for himself or me, I have yet to find out—but I want to know.

Then, and only then, will his fate be decided. We won't kill him immediately, not like the king, but if he can aid us in what is coming next, I'll have no choice but to keep him alive. The decision comes with what Binx is willing to do—if nothing, then he is to die. He has to offer some service to pay for what he's done; the trauma of this will last the rest of my life and Binx's involvement definitely would have changed that.

If he's willing to, Binx may very well be the one that kills the king. A witch of illusion has free rein to do as they wish with their power, and the king can't stand up to that. If the truth bends to Binx's will, not even a witch as powerful as the one on the throne will keep up.

My tone deathly quiet, laced with realization, asks the next question for me. "How are we supposed to destroy a monster...without becoming one ourselves?"

Renit doesn't have to think twice about the question. "By remembering we have someone to love, someone that cares for us. We have to remember that the kingdom needs this, and if we don't do this, my father won't allow anyone to live as happily as they wish." He traces his fingers over my knee. "But we needn't think about that now. I just got you back, don't lose yourself over this. We have time, plenty of it."

"We have as long as it takes for the king to discover we're here," I say simply.

Renit clicks his tongue in disappointment. "Don't bring me down, spitfire."

Remembering the nickname he has for me, the one adopted by him when we first met, I laugh through the miserable, breaking ache inside my chest. Somehow, he makes it disappear without trying.

I drape my arms around his shoulders, and Renit's hands slide around my waist. I need his warmth more than anything else in the world, even the sense of completion I've been longing for. When our noses brush together, I don't back away. Instead, I find myself longing for more out of his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispers against my lips.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning wide. This feeling...I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. There's something about Renit that sends a rush through me, and no matter how hard I try, when I have, there's nothing I can do to stop it. That feeling is implanted in me now.

We spent nearly two months apart after it took more than that amount of time for us to come together and discover we are more alike than we are different. I'm not willing to waste any more time than we already have, I press my lips against his and allow his warmth to spread through me. I've been reaching out for it for so long, even underneath the king's influence, I longed for it—even if I didn't know what I was searching for in the first place.

All along, it was Renit. My power was trying to tell me that through dreams of him, those involving happier times, and I ignored them with every chance I got. I thought it was to fuel my fire in killing him and to further my mission to make the foolish prince into a prized mantlepiece, but it wasn't. Instead, those dreams were reminding me, through my power, that I needed to find my way back to him.

I have. I finally have. Renit scoops me into his arms and off the edge of Celestine's bed, so swiftly that I don't know how I find the back of my head pressing against the pillows of my own. I don't want to waste another moment. I reach for his tunic, attempting to pull it over his head, but Renit's hands stop my attempts.

"Not tonight," he whispers against my lips. "Not now. Let me...just enjoy you. That's all."

I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to kiss the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Renit lays down next to me, allowing me to use his chest as a pillow, and as one, our legs intertwined, we lay in silence. My arm drapes over his abdomen, and his fingers stroke through my hair until I fall asleep, pressed against his warmth. The presence of the world...my problems, all of that can wait.