After Renit leaves, he climbs to the rooftop of the building across the street and keeps watch. I catch his shadow every now and then, moving from one end of the building to the next as he watches a suspicious witch.

I hide in the shadow of the curtain and watch his figure, the way he moves so easily. After decades of training, he's become incredibly skilled in not only fighting but in the small things as well. Tracking, surveying, everything it takes to survive. He can sit still for hours on end and seemingly hold his breath so no one hears him.

For a while, I attempted to sleep. That was when Renit was on the rooftop, watching for anyone making their way into the inn. No one did, I listened to any commotion on the outside of the door but found nothing. Instead of bothering myself further with him, I curled into a ball at the bottom of the bed and slept for as long as it took for him to disappear.

I look out the window, squinting against the dim candlelight to find his figure. He's not there. Renit's gone. My heart clenches, wary of where he might be in a city like this, but I have to trust the prince. I scan the streets below but don't find him there either, not talking to a random harlot and paying for answers or chatting with the man selling cheap tools across the street underneath the cover of a tattered knapsack.

Pacing back and forth in the inn room, I try to calm myself. I'm alone with the two boxes meant to be delivered to the king. If I go looking for Renit, they could be stolen while I'm away. There were enough eyes on us and our fine clothing to warrant suspicion of our arrival. But if the prince is in danger, it is my job to protect him.

If I need protection, I have my power. And Renit has his, along with that brute strength. I stuff a dagger into the sheath at my hip and lock the door behind me. With the hood of the cloak pulled over my head, no one will be able to identify me except if they happened to pay close attention earlier. They might be looking for me, second bait to pair with the prince.

I try not to think about that too much—Renit bloodied and broken somewhere in the back of an alley. A dagger in his stomach, wheezing for life, begging for anyone to save him.

Don't think about it.

Renit would never be so careless.

I avoid the mud puddle on the dirt street and quickly begin scanning. For the middle of the night, many of the residents are still awake and standing around those flaming barrels meant to provide warmth, cook their meals, and provide light on such a dark night. The smoke covers the moon, suffocating the light, so I cannot use it as my guide.

Ducoria is mainly shadows. From the buildings, to the hooded figures, to the market stalls disappearing into hidden alcoves for secret entrances into residences or taverns. This city is one huge mystery within itself and my stomach churns at the thought of walking the streets alone. Yet, I manage to put one foot in front of the other and search for Renit's face in everyone I pass.

With every strange look I give to anyone, they give me one in return. Some study me for longer, particularly the men, but once I'm passed and turning around another corner—they don't follow me. As if they know something that I don't. Approach someone and expect the fight you receive. A witch's true self is hidden underneath their skin, in their power. Be wary of those that cross you.

My father's words. That rings true in a situation like this, the witches in the streets are wary to approach anyone that might carry a distinct power with them. One meant to be deadly. They don't know about me as much as I don't know about them. And they're smart not to test a witch of ground.

I turn down another street, bumping into someone wearing a thick cloak to cover their features. Quickly, I scoot to the side and allow them to pass. But they don't move. Immediately, my hand goes towards the dagger at my hip but the man raises his hands in innocence and takes the necessary steps back to distance us.

"If I were you, pretty thing, I wouldn't be walking these streets alone," he muses from underneath the hood. With the fire behind him, I can't spot his features but he sounds young. I catch a flash of yellow teeth with two rotting in the front and hold down my gasp. "There are dangerous affairs around here."

I glare into the darkness. "How do you know I'm not dangerous?" I ask coldly.

"A sweet little thing like you might hold secrets but we're bred to steal." He reaches out to brush a hand against my cheek and I lurch away, drawing my dagger. The blade glistens in the fire and underneath his hood, that grin returns. "These harlots get boring after a while. Some of the men around here are looking for new adventures."

"Watch it," I snap. I stand in the defense position Renit taught me. Legs apart, knees bent, arms angled and ready for attack. Be ready for anything. Too bad I wasn't trained how to properly attack with a dagger instead of a bow.

He snickers, the sound echoing through the space between us. "You're looking for someone, aren't you? That's why you're making the brave decision to be out here...all alone." He tilts his head forward, looking me up and down and I huff a breath of irritation through my nose.

Down the street, a harlot giggles as she attempts to drag a man back into the small room she's constructed behind a market stand. It won't be a comfortable space but she can make good money in a place like that, these men don't care about the conditions of their stay for the short period of time they're there.

A dog runs in front of one of the buildings, drawing my attention only for a second before I turn back to the man before he can do anything. One wrong move and he can take my dagger. With stone and solid ground surrounding, I have a strong use for my power here. Part of me wishes I can show someone other than Renit how powerful I can be. They need to know.

"I can find him myself," I say. By sheathing my dagger, I show him that I'm not afraid. Yet the blade is a heavy weight, almost screaming at me to wise up and use my common sense. Another flash of a yellow grin appears underneath the hood and the man nods.

"I suggest starting at the fighting pits. They're buzzing tonight." He gestures over his shoulder with a dry, cracked thumbnail and I visibly cringe. That doesn't appear to alter his desires as he takes another step closer to me.

I don't balk. He reeks of body odor and the stench of rotten meat but not even that deters my focus as I'm becoming used to the horrid smells of this place.

"But I suggest you be careful. Not everyone is as pleasant as myself." He whistles some of the letters through his teeth and I swear some spit lands on my cheek. My hand folds into a fist to keep from wiping it away. The spit is more like acid than his normal body function. "You won't stand much of a chance with those little arms."

I lean back, cross my arms over my chest, and purse my lips together. With one simple tap of my foot against the mud, the ground rumbles and the man who had once been so calm now allows himself to take one giant, startled leap back. I only allow the ground to rumble enough to get his attention, not everyone else down the street. My power follows him like a ghost.

Examining my nails, I meet his stare through lowered brows. "I think I can handle myself, thank you," I grovel.

He doesn't say another word as I continue down the street, towards the fighting pit Renit and I visited earlier. Before I can reach it, shouts ring out from the opened door as someone delivers what sounds to be a winning punch. From here, I hear someone slammed against the stone wall and bone cracks. If Renit is down there...

I break into a jog and push through the crowd, all the way to the edge of the fighting pit. But the fight hasn't even started. The pit is empty and the unconscious fighter is being dragged away while the other climbs out of the pit and collects his winnings.

Renit isn't here. At least I don't see him. I search through the crowd, looking for those bright silver eyes, until I spot a mist of dark hair across the pit.

"Next fighters, in the pit!" A man monitoring these fights shouts from down inside. Murmurs break out through the witches watching and someone breaks through to my right, dropping to their knees to jump into the pit. He's a burly man with more strength to his legs than everything else on his muscled body.

Whoops and hollers sound from behind me as people are already taking their bets. That's when Renit breaks through the crowd on the other side of the pit. He drops down, landing onto the sand with a strong stance. He glares at his opponent who smirks in return. Little do these people know, their prince is about to fight.

Bets go around, some for Renit, some for the other fighter. The prince removes his shirt and shows everyone the history of his family underneath. Those three lines, Darlene and Renit surrounding Oisin in protection. But they don't know what that means—only I do.

I can do nothing other than stand there and hold my breath as the fighters are announced and the man monitoring the fights steps back underneath the iron gate keeping him protected from the bloodshed.

"Let the fight begin!" Someone shouts from the back of this disgusting place. Hollering follows and Renit drops into a defensive stance. Why is he doing this? What is he trying to prove?

A deadly determination clouds his features that have tempered over recent weeks. Now he looks like the cold prince I met that day on the beach, the one that detested me with everything he had. My stomach constricts at the memory of him, I can still sense the hate I had for him and after confessing my feelings for him, part of me is unaware I ever hated him in the first place.

He had his reasons.

All reasons that I know and cherish because he trusts me to know them.

Renit's opponent is the one that charges first. The prince slithers to the side, dragging his boot in the sand, and allows the man to smack into the stone wall, not before Renit drives his elbow into the man's spine. The crowd reacts but my hearing is dulled as I keep my eyes solely on Renit. He can do this, he can win.

With both fists raised over his chest, Renit doesn't balk from the next attack. While he makes it look like he'll attack with his fists first, he drives his boot into the man's stomach. They both fall back onto the sand and the prince is the one to recover first, all before his opponent swipes for Renit's ankles and takes him out that way.

The fight quickly turns just as it starts. Renit's nose cracks as the man's fist connects with it and I wince. Blood dribbles down his lips but before the next punch can rain down, he rolls out of the way and crouches, smiling at the man who is already covered in sweat. I've never seen him so bloodthirsty.

My heart races as Renit charges, taking out the man while he's down. But his opponent is too fast—Renit is caught off-guard and faces a blow to the gut from a very strong knee. All the air leaves his lungs and he wheezes, bending forward only for a second before he whips around. Tactic. He wanted to make himself look defeated. And it worked.

Renit's fist connects with the man's cheek and before he can recover from such a blow, the prince offers another on the opposite side. He shakes off the burning in his knuckles as the man stumbles back and cups his jaw in a bloodstained hand. It's still intact, at least to my awareness.

Like a wild animal stalking prey, Renit paces back and forth in the other side of the pit. He's waiting for the man to recover so this fight doesn't end too soon. The longer the fight, the more money either of them could receive. Renit's doing this for the money, then. Not for the shrill ecstasy the fighting pits bring. There's a reason behind his rage.

His opponent mutters threats, words Renit smirks at before he attacks again. The prince moves as swift as a snake, dodging left and right to avoid attacks that he saw long before they were delivered. His powerful body does most of the work behind delivering blows from his knuckles and from his knees.

The man hardly stands a chance. But Renit isn't done yet. He lets his focus falter as he wipes the blood away from his nose. He's taken out at the waist and his back slams against the sand. The crowd cheers, making me flinch, but I'm unable to tear my eyes away as Renit takes blow after blow to the face.

He's being sat on and can do nothing until he reaches up, face bloodier than I've ever seen, and digs his fingers into the man's eyeballs. I cringe, looking away, as a shrill scream breaks out. Most of the crowd honors his audacity.

Renit shoves off his opponent and wobbles when he stands. His shoulders droop with exhaustion but he waits until the man is recovered before doing anything else. First, he aims for the abdomen and slams the man against the wall. His punches are timed perfectly, one right after the other until his knuckles are spit and he's bleeding down his forearms.

The prince is shoved back against the opposite wall, hair unkempt and hanging over his forehead, panting. He's giving up. Renit doesn't think he can win.

His hands are braced against the stone and I send my power towards him, nudging a cold wave against his palms to remind him that he isn't alone. Immediately, he stares up to the edge of the pit, searching. Then he looks over his shoulder and finds me above him. I nod, telling him he can do this, he can win for the sake of getting what he needs.

Finding me there proves to be what he needs. Something like gratitude glistens in the moonlight silver of his eyes and only I can see it but his mouth tightens into a smile. He pumps his arms, heading for his opponent again to deliver the final blows of this fight.

I hold my breath, waiting, watching as the man goes for Renit's waist and holds on tight. There's not much the prince can do but he braces his hands around the man's arms and pulls him away just enough to deliver his knee into a very weak abdomen. As if all of Renit's strength is restored, he brings his knee up again and again into the man's stomach until he's wheezing and the prince can no longer hold him.

Renit's opponent drops to his knees and the prince steps back. He drags a hand across the bottom half of his face and slings the blood away, directly to the stone wall. He's covered in it, both of them are.

This needs to end now. Before the prince gets hurt. And he does just that. Will all his might, Renit twists and delivers a roundhouse kick directly to the side of the man's head. He topples, hitting the sand, and the crowd breaks out in a strong cheer. I'm part of that cheering crowd, chanting for the dark-haired man that just won.

I force my way through the crowd to the other side of the pit, where Renit climbs up the stairs. Holding out my hand to greet him, I grin widely at the bloody and bruised face smiling up at me and taking my extended reach.

Renit is immediately handed his winnings, an entire pouch of coins. In the back of my mind, I know that money isn't for us.