To stay off the trail means trudging through the sharp brush, clustered trees, and over slippery rocks threatening to roll my ankles. I should have thought about this further before we began. We could stay on the trail until the sun rose and travelers going back and forth from Fosux to the capital would never spot us through the dense woods.

Renit took this a completely different way. The moon is high, the stars are glistening, and we are still moving. Exhaustion drags me down and my shoulders slump, my back straining with every calculated step I take. But the prince, after not moving for the past week and a half, is getting along quite well.

Since he's back to his normal annoyed self, I don't ask if he's willing to stop for the night. He never said anything in the cell, but I know he's itching to get back to the castle and explain to his father what happened. But never mentioning the failed bargain between the king proves to be his downfall. I know it hurts, to realize your blood isn't coming for you.

I never got a straight answer but the truth is killing him from the inside out. That's why he trudges along, ahead of me as to avoid any conversations. So I will oblige him and keep my mouth shut until he's ready to stop and rest. His body has to give out at some point.

On the horses, this journey would have taken us a few days. On foot, it will be longer. We will have to find food, either through the twisted advantage of robbery or through setting traps and catching rabbits. But that will slow us down and the rebels didn't leave any of their traps behind, hiding along the trail.

My suspicion is Renit will go for the robbery, knowing how stealthy he is. All it takes is a lone carriage with no other sign of passengers.

We walk for hours, only stopping to cup our hands in the freezing water of the stream and drink as much as we can before moving on. Neither of us managed to smuggle a flask in our pocket, we have nothing other than the titanium bands. My heart sinks at the thought of my dagger, lost somewhere in the camp. Tesha probably pawned it for something better.

That was the only gift Renit ever gave me and likely the last if he's aware I don't have it. He'll realize it when we make it back to the capital and notices that empty slot where the dagger once was. The blade belongs to the rebels now.

Morning comes, the sky shifting from the darkest of blues to a tinge of pinks through the scattered clouds. My feet are aching and my back is as stiff as a board. I've stumbled over my own boots too many times to count after falling asleep while I was walking, following the shadow that is Renit in front of me. Yet, he never stopped.

I underestimated his persistence.

I run my fingers through the knotted strands of my hair. I hate how much I smell. After too long in the dungeons, the smell is permanently covering my skin.

"Can we stop?" I ask, my throat dry. Underneath my tunic, my stomach rumbles and aches. Rubbing my hand against it doesn't help matters.

Renit turns to face me, standing between two towering trees. "If we stop, we won't make it to the capital soon. I don't want to be out here for weeks, waiting for the wolves to make a meal of us," Renit argues.

But we've stopped walking and that's all I asked for. "Is there a pond around here somewhere? I need to clean myself off." I peel the fabric away from my body, sweat and blood stained, and Renit grimaces. We left our second pair in the dungeons, another foolish mistake. We should have grabbed everything our arms could carry.

The prince looks around, squinting through the trees. "There should be one around here somewhere. Oisin and I used to come out here and camp for a few nights." He says that with reluctance and won't meet my eye as he turns, gaining direction, and walks deeper into the trees.

Although my legs don't want to keep moving, I force myself to walk after him. My hands slip around tree trunks, feeling the roots locking them into the ground. With my power restored, bits of it slip loose and wiggle into the ground so I'm not a winding case of power when we make it back to the capital.

We haven't been gone for long but...our arrival will not be welcomed. Not after what I did with this power to ruin their courtyard. What is their progress of repairs? Have they finished or is Celestine still slaving over the task? I can imagine her in the gardens, wiping the summer-stained sweat from her brow as she tends to another ruined flowerbed. There is no other place she would rather be at the moment, she has the chance to work on her power and then some.

Although much slower, Renit maneuvers until breaking into a small clearing housing a pond and what appears to be the long-forgotten remnants of a campsite. I'm too busy falling to my knees in front of the water to focus on how uncomfortable he is. All I can think about is getting myself out of these clothes and washing myself until not a hint of those dungeons remains.

Renit clears his throat. "I'm going to find us some food. There are some bushes around here with berries. Until we can make it back to the trail, that's what we'll eat."

I crane my neck to look at him and nod. But he's already gone, disappearing through the low branches with gentle steps. It's not until his movements are nothing more than a whisper that I allow myself to undress, down to my undergarments, and slip into the water.

The pond is cold but the sun is warm in the early morning. I shiver, wading through the water to remove the chill. Or at least adapt to it.

I don't bother cleaning my clothes, there isn't enough time, so I dunk my head underneath the water and scrub until the dirt is gone from my skin and my hair. Although I don't feel completely clean—I've been wearing the same two sets of clothes for the past week and a half—this is much better.

As I continue to wade, my body adjusts to the water. That is what Renit returns, carrying two handfuls of berries and another pile wrapped in a leaf big enough to hold extra. His eyes dart around quickly, nervous, and I wonder if it's because of my clothes on a boulder or because the memories this place brings back. Possibly both.

"Here," he offers dryly. I expose my palm and he drops a few berries onto my damp skin.

"Aren't you going to come in?" I loop my arm around a boulder on the side of the pond and pop a berry into my mouth. I stifle back the moan that wants to escape as the sour burst explodes between my teeth.

At first, Renit doesn't seem able to place the words. I watch him warily as he takes another glance around the area as if looking for something, then peels off his shirt with reluctance. I've never seen him so lost within himself. On the outside, he is visibly crumbling.

He's always kept his feelings to himself as long as I've known him. This is the first time, caused by memories of Oisin, that Renit doesn't know what to say next. I don't blame him. He used to come here a hundred years ago with his son. And he's gone. The memories aren't, precisely why this is so hard.

The water splashes as he wades in and immediately dunks his head underneath the water. After the arrow sunk into his flesh, there's a spot of tattoo missing where the healer stretched new skin together, a bare slit in the cluster of Renit's design.

Renit scrubs at his head and around him, the water turns a murky shade of brown as the remnants of dusty hay and dirt fold away underneath the surface.

I wade over to him, stopping just short of that clouded water. "Do your tattoos have any significance?" I inquire.

When his eyes meet mine after darting around nervously since he came back, I find their bright nature from this morning has dissolved and that silver is again flooded with the twinkling hint of grief. I stifle the urge to wrap my arms around him.

Renit looks to his chest. "There's three lines." He runs his finger over those three tips at the base of his throat, the marks that blend in with his collarbones. "Oisin is in the middle." He taps that middle line and somehow, that boy's face comes to light in my mind.

He's exactly how I pictured him, the short hair a ruddy, dark shade. Oisin's smile lights up the room in which he stands, the empty locket that is Renit's memory.

"What's wrong?" Renit asks, his brows furrowing.

With tears in my eyes, I listen to the young boy's laughter. It's as cheerful as music played at a castle ball. "I—I can see him," I stutter. "Through your memories, I can see Oisin."

With the titanium bands off, our powers are mingling again. And this proves how deep the Grounding goes, not just to the magic but to the two witches granted those powers in the first place. Renit unknowingly opened a door to his memories and I slipped in, gaining access to the face of an adorable witch I'll never have the chance to meet.

The prince's face softens. Oisin's eyes are not quite blue but they're metallic, a blend of the two colors—paint spilling onto a blank surface. Silver and blue. The storm and the ocean. "Isn't he amazing?" Renit asks quietly. His voice is barely above a whisper.

I choke out a laugh as Oisin does the same, Darlene finding her way into the picture. I see why he loved them so much, their carefree spirits. Oisin's glee as his mother twirls him around, Renit's dark laughter in the distance beyond my eyes. "He's beautiful."

Renit's eyes drift down to the water but that smile lingers. "The other two lines are for Darlene and I. Over the course of my tattoos, we protect him. He's never once on the outside of our reach." Again, his hand goes to the base of his throat and stays there, as if that's where it should be all the time.

The pride in his eyes is hard to miss. "If I could, I would do whatever it took to get them back for you," I mend.

To clear his mind, Renit sighs. "I know."

And his words are genuine.