The door to Silas's chambers is left ajar, evidence of someone leaving and promising to be back soon. Hallie, possibly—unless the crown prince is so lonely that even the vacant hallway is enough to soothe the emptiness in his soul. That emptiness is my fault, the reason Silas has changed is because of what I did.

I want to go back and change it all but...I can't. For the crown prince, I will get on my knees and beg for forgiveness; he has never done anything wrong to warrant the type of pain he is experiencing.

My palm presses onto his door and pushes with a feather-light touch, the hinges squeaking as I take my first step into the room. He's sitting there, in his bed, with his back propped against the headboard. Silas has nearly finished the book in his lap, one of the copies I recognize from our raid on a bookstore in Mailan. That happens to be one of the few books I've read myself, over and over again.

I stand in his doorway, unsure whether to enter any further. That familiar light doesn't cast on his face, instead, shadows smudge underneath his eyes and when he reaches to turn a page, his hand shakes. My heart skitters and my stomach tightens. I did this. I did this.

Silas is concentrated on the book but his eyes are not fully focused. Part of him is here, the other isn't. He's thinking about the book right now but also the events leading up to his near death. Silas is broken.

I broke the crown prince.

"Silas?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It's as much as I can muster without breaking down entirely. Sobbing my apologies in his chambers isn't the proper way to greet him after some time apart.

His head slowly turns and those hollow eyes meet mine, a dull shade of grey. I've never seen him so...like his brother. Like something has been ripped from his soul and with every attempt to get it back, he fails. By now, the real Silas would have smiled and pulled me in for one of his bone-crushing embraces.

But I don't receive that. He blinks, his pale lips shifting to form the words: "You're back." And there's no sense of joy or emotion in that statement.

I nod clearly, as if this will help him understand. Not a twitch of a smile or relief presents itself as he realizes we're not in danger anymore. Silas shuts the book carefully with such a slow hand that I nearly shut it myself. But I don't move, I don't know how close he wants me and if I step out of my means, his condition could escalate.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. My hands involuntarily fold themselves together over my stomach and Silas watches the movement warily. Those are the hands that nearly got him killed—I tried to take my anger out on his as well, not just Darius.

As slow as someone waking from a deep slumber, his eyes drift to the windows and hold there, staring out at the sunshine beyond. He receives the sunrises, same as Renit, while Hallie shares the sunsets with me. Rays stream in through the glass and blanch themselves on the wooden floorboards, spreading to the rug and chaise near his armoire.

His crown, abandoned on its cushion, sprinkles silver across the ceiling from where it sits on his windowsill.

"I feel...fine," he says. Even his voice doesn't sound like his own. "The healers did everything, I'm back to normal."

This isn't normal, I tell myself. I clench my hands into fists to keep from shaking his shoulders to tell him this isn't normal. He needs to be laughing or telling me a joke about an unfortunate night of getting drunk with the captain of the guard and finding himself in a tree outside of the courtyard.

No, Silas is not normal. Somewhere inside him, the crown prince is lost. And we cannot go diving for his real self at a time like this, or any time for that manner. The kingdom will deem him unfit to rule if they're aware of the condition he's in.

"Other than the physical wounds that plagued you..." I shift uncomfortably. "How are you feeling? How is Silas?"

His eyes finally shift back to meet mine. He's lost weight, some of the bulk that made him superior to his brother. That mass is still there but with all the color drained from his cheeks and the stubbled beard across the lower half of his face, he appears no different than a village boy tending to the horses.

"I told you, I'm fine. I feel the same." He looks down, spotting his lie, but doesn't bother making himself sound convincing. I wouldn't either, if I was in his condition.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well. I was worried about you for some time," I offer.

He runs his fingers over the leather spine of the book in his hand, one about a strong warrior who defeats a dragon in their kingdom, only to find a woman who loves him and a crown waiting when he returns. The warrior rejects that life, there are more dragons to slay and if he is on the throne, his kingdom is still in danger.

Silas picked this tale for a reason, it's not the normal romance I've caught Celestine reading or even the crown prince himself. He's looking for inspiration, adventure, while he's cooped up here inside his chambers. Cold and alone. "As you should have been. What happened was very dangerous and..." He pauses, his jaw clenching. A muscle feathers and for a moment, he stills but, all of a sudden, Silas blinks himself out of the trance. "Let's just say, I was lucky."

"Lucky," I repeat with a smile. "I was hoping we could reconnect since Renit is back as well and—"

"I will have no involvement with my brother for some time," Silas interrupts. As if he can see Renit's face there, flushed with anger, he stares at the duvet with blinding hatred. "And the same goes for you. I believe I need time to recover. I don't mean to inconvenience you." His swallow is loud through the room, so booming my soul shatters. Silas doesn't want anything to do with me.

"Silas please, I didn't mean for that to happen. If you just give me a chance—"

"He said to leave."

I turn towards the doorway I vacated, nearly running to the side of Silas's bed, to find Hallie standing there with arms crossed over her chest. The light is missing from her eyes, as well. That seems to be the common trend in this tower and it's all because of me.

Silas doesn't move or tell Hallie to back down. He stares at the book in his lap, that is his entire universe right now and there's nothing I can do to change his mind.

"I just wanted to see how he was doing. Celestine told me—"

"He's fine. But he doesn't need more stress than he already has. Stress that you forced on him. The crown prince needs time to recover and if you cannot give that to him then I will have no choice but to forcibly remove you from this tower," she threatens.

Like everyone else, Hallie is different today. Instead of the familiar, frilly gowns I've seen her in—she wears a simple tunic with red embroidery and white elbow pads. Her leather boots are shined to perfection, their top buckle stopping short of her knee. She looks more like me than herself, even her short hair has a slight wave to it.

Hallie had been so used to putting herself in that box. One meant to keep her conformed to the perfect princess size. She's broken, same as Silas. She's stopped caring as much as everyone else.

I step back from Silas's bed, giving him a nod instead of a bow. I don't know what a bow will do to him at a time like this. "Thank you for your time," I whisper. My throat is closing up, a knot of tears is forming at the base.

The crown prince nods and focuses his attention back on that book of heroism. Hallie steps aside, barely granting me enough room to pass. It's not until I get out into the hall that I realize my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. I wasn't going to test Hallie, I know how powerful she is without her power. And if she's looking over the crown prince and deciding things that he can't, I have no choice but to obey.

Even if it's killing me to know Silas is so lost he can't make his own decisions.

I nearly run back to my chambers, I walk so fast my hair shifts back and forth, back and forth. I need a place to break down, without the lingering eyes of those in this castle. The guards, the healers, the servants...they talk. And rumors will spread. Rumors about Silas while everyone is trying to keep his condition hushed. That's why no one has said anything—it's because the crown prince is broken.

Their future is broken.

This could ruin the entire plan. I have to get Silas back to normal at one point or the other, depending on what happens with the king. Either way, Silas will need to be himself again. The kingdom can't allow him to turn out like his father. Otherwise, the rebels will find themselves with an entirely new predicament.

When I get back to my chambers, Renit's door is open. Not ajar like his brother's but open wide, to reveal the prince sitting at his desk, twisting a feather between his fingers.

His eyes meet mine and his face softens, only for a second before he says, "We need to talk."

I shut the door quietly behind me as Renit watches my every move. Each step I take, he monitors until I'm standing on the opposite side of his desk and fiddling with my hands. There's something different about him, even he has to fiddle with something when normally, he's so even keeled.

Since I've seen him last, Renit has taken a bath and changed into another dark tunic that resembles all the others he owns. The tufts of his dark hair are combed, as much as they can be before he ran his fingers through it. Over recent days, I've thought too many times about running my fingers through his hair.

He left the curtains open, a testament to how dark his chambers normally are. Except he couldn't miss the opportunity to light a few candles that flicker shadows against the walls. Otherwise, everything else is the same. Untouched.

"We need to talk about the plan," he begins. "I need to know the full details." He forces himself to focus on the desk and scratches at his nose awkwardly with a scarred finger. It's a relief to not smell like the dungeons anymore; the same goes for the prince.

"I've given you the full details. I know as much as I've told you," I promise.

Before I've finished talking, Renit shakes his head. "You've gone into this blindly. The least you could have done is figured out all the details so your friend doesn't leave you out to dry." By friend, he means Bren. But saying the name seems to be too difficult for him, as if he hates my childhood friend so much, he can barely muster the strength to think of anything other than his position as a rebel.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. After all the confrontations I've had in this short span of time, I don't want another. A headache is already forming from not sleeping all night and if I have another discussion with someone who hates me, I might not make it out with my sanity.

"Renit, I don't want to do this. I just talked to Celestine, Silas, and Hallie. Each of them hates me right now. I don't have enough strength for another argument." I brace my palms on his desk.

"That's not what we're here to discuss," Renit obliges. "Wait, you...you saw Silas?"

I nod, one quick jerk of my chin. "He's alive but he's lost. He's acting more like you, with hatred, except his heart seems..." I trial off, unable to find the right word.

"Broken," Renit finishes for me. His jaw shifts as he chews on his lip.

"All because of what I did." I push off from where I placed my palms against his desk and shuffle towards his bed. My legs are so heavy, my shoulders are weighing me down, and all I want to do is sleep. My eyes can barely stay open and with every time I blink, they burn.

Without caring what Renit will think, I pull back the duvet and slide into his bed, instantly finding comfort in the silk sheets. Before I can even rest my head on the pillow, my eyes are closing and my body is relaxing.

I'm already drifting off to sleep as Renit stands from the desk, pushing his chair back, and makes his way to the side of the bed. He reaches for something over my body and then, a pillow smacks against the side of my head. "Wake up, we're not done talking about this," he threatens.

I groan. "Can't this wait until later? I haven't slept all night."

Although my words are a mumble, whispers I can't even make out, the pillow smacks against my head again and Renit says, "I haven't slept either but we need to talk about this. After that, I'll let you sleep."

"Fine," I bark. I roll over, staring up at him. He studies something in my face, searching over my exhausted features, and when our eyes meet, he quickly looks away. Either he hates the sight of me laying in his bed or as much as he doesn't want me here—Renit doesn't mind the company.

Renit pushes me more towards the middle of the bed and lays down next to me. It's so sudden and so unlike him that I nearly ask what the hell is wrong with him but when his head hits the pillows, I remember he's exhausted, too. Not just me. He had to battle infection and deal with rebels that wanted him dead for nearly two weeks. If anyone should be tired, it's Renit.

"Would it be wrong of me to think that this is best for the kingdom?" Renit proposes.

I turn on my side, tucking my hands underneath my cheek—staring at the side of his face. Holding my fingers back from running them down his cheekbone and over the ridge of his lips that must be so soft...I blink that thought away. "That's not wrong at all," I promise quietly.

"I have to do what is best for the land I care about, for the people here." Renit swallows. "And I think the best for them is to...have my father off the throne."

My heart soars in my chest. He's finally coming around. If he agrees to helping me with this then I won't have anything to worry about. With a prince on my side, this plan is as good as foolproof.

I bite back a smile and say, "I think you're making a wise decision. Silas is much better for this kingdom, he'll bring change. Not only for your people but for you as well."

Finding the hands that are folded together on his stomach, I loop my palm with his but he doesn't squeeze, his hand remains limp. We've gotten through these little touches, it's our promise to always be there for each other when times are hard. This is to come along with what he said at the engagement ceremony—even if it was all scripted like he claims those thoughtful words to be.

This heart needs you. I need you.

Renit turns his stare back to the ceiling. "I've spent every day trying to believe my father was fit to rule. All this time, I blocked myself out from recognizing the terrible things he's done to innocent people." His thumb scrapes over the back of my hand. I close my eyes as exhaustion drags me under.

I will not judge Renit for believing his father is not fit to rule. As a prince, he has no choice but to support his successors and wait in line like a proud boy. He's not allowed to speak until spoken to. He's supposed to be a symbol for this kingdom. And having that life of a prince, one where everything is decided for him, has blinded every thought.

Renit Marron does not deserve what he's been given. The beatings, the training, the death of his loved ones. Now that I've come to understand him, having Renit on the throne would not be such a terrible thing. He's had inner demons that he's had to fight alone over the span of one hundred years. Witches do not forget.

In this journey that we will share together, I will slay all the monsters that ever touched him. The nightmares that keep him awake for hours on end, I will help him through. I have the strength to bring down all the ones who have twisted his happiest moments into shadows of dark memories. If they believe Renit Marron to be a nightmare then I will be theirs when they come for him again.

"You are not wrong for thinking your own thoughts, prince." I open my eyes to find him already looking at me. The moon silver of his iris brightens. "Your life has been about surviving, never about living. It's time you had your chance to be free."

All I've ever wanted was freedom. A sort of freedom that meant I could explore this kingdom without wondering about when my death would come at the king's hand. Renit has been searching for the freedom of life, to breathe without question. To battle without the threat of scars. With the king off the throne, he can have that life.

Renit sighs through his nose and his warm breath tickles the back of my hand. "I never had the chance to be...soft. Once my father forced me to start training, I was always shards of glass and bruised knuckles. I believed everyone would be cruel to me the way my father was so I grew up wanting people to be afraid of hurting me. I distanced myself from so much happiness and after over three hundred years...I can't get that time back."

"No, but you can make up for it by living now," I offer.

The prince shakes his head against the pillow. "Once he saw how Silas became with my mother's teachings, my father told me I wasn't born to be carefree and soft." The king wanted to fix their parenting mistakes with his second son. Mistakes. The way Silas came out wasn't a mistake, he's the light of the kingdom. "My father told me I was born to shatter the world and make people shake at my fingertips. I always thought that to be a good thing."

I scoot closer to him, propping myself up on an elbow to stare down at his face. We're so close, so dangerously close as I cup the side of his face to feel the warmth underneath. My hair slips and drapes over my shoulder, curtaining us from the rest of the room. His skin is warm against my touch and Renit doesn't back away as I expected him to. The prince leans into my fingers grazing over his cheekbone, tracing the edge of his brow and sliding just barely into his hairline.

"Your father's teachings are not what define you," I whisper. "You don't have to practice who you are. Stop imagining yourself to be this or that, just be. Let your real nature, your true self, emerge."

He's silent for a moment then the corner of his mouth tugs up in a grin. A toothy, silly grin. I can't help but mimic it. "Wise words, spitfire. I would have to say the same goes for you."

I laugh under my breath. "Maybe so but I don't need that advice. Unlike you, an old bastard, I have my life figured out."

Renit gapes at me and pinches my side before I can stop him. I bat his hand away with a pout and he rolls his eyes—a silent statement that I'm being dramatic. I've learned enough about his expressions to know what the little ones mean.

Still hovering over him, I whisper, "Get some sleep. We both need it." Before I can take my place at his side, I lean down and press my lips to his cheek. Renit doesn't stiffen this time, he leans into my warmth and closes his eyes with such tenderness that I would think him to be sleeping right there.

But when I lay back down next to him, those silver eyes framed by darkness lift open again and I turn away before he can say anything. Seconds later, when my own eyes are closed and I'm ready to embrace slumber, his arm slides across the bed as if silently asking for more. But, before that touch can register, his faint warmth slides back across the bed and confides itself—too far away.