The door creaks open, whining loudly through the trove and a flickering flame bounces against each wall. But behind the large pile of coins and treasure, making our way up the fallen beam, we're protected in the dark.

Lord Cavanaugh mutters something about accidentally leaving the door unlocked once he realizes no one is in here, stealing what he values most. The rest of the group with him agrees and already, they're stepping over coins and carefully moving around the piles of chests and diamond-rimmed chalices to avoid having to pay for something that doesn't belong to them.

They couldn't afford it, each one of these pieces is worth more than their life and although Lord Cavanaugh may be in his last months, along with his wife, that doesn't mean these people can ruin what they wish. The treasures are still valuable; that's why he's kept them down here instead of finding a home amongst those that actually need the money.

These treasures could have paid for Arego to be the size of Mailan with palaces and castles included. Who knows what other solid gold creations are hidden underneath the large piles of others—there's no telling the actual worth here but if I can swim in all of it...that's enough to tell me that there's plenty.

I climb up the angled beam and Renit follows behind me, crouching low so his shadow doesn't stretch onto the wall. We climb up beam after beam, those that stretch along the wall horizontally from the fallen. My arms burn with every time I hoist myself up but Renit is there, pushing me higher until we're out of the direction of the flickering torch.

Bracing my hands against the beam over my head, I lean forward and survey the scene below. Lord Cavanaugh is the one holding the torch over the many piles of coins and treasures. Those that he brought down with him look on in awe, their eyes sparkling with all they could spend on things they don't need. Judging by the finery of their clothes, they have enough already.

Standing next to me, Renit watches as well. We're hidden in the dark, out of the eye of anyone that looks this way. If they do, all they'll see is the stone wall when in reality, two huddled figures dressed all in black are watching their every move.

The group isn't any bigger than ten; they seem to be Lord Cavanaugh's closest friends as he allows them to walk through the trove without supervision. No guards, no one to protect the Lord, and definitely not an assassin that can snap their necks.

I spot an older man at the edge of the trove, sliding a handful of coins into his pocket. If he was smart, he only would have stolen one or two. Now, every time he walks, he'll be no better than a horse with a bell around their neck. Whether or not Cavanaugh will punish him remains to be seen as the Lord's urgency has yet to show itself. Maybe he doesn't care that these people are stealing from him when he turns his back on them.

Another woman examines a golden chalice, holding it up to the light of the torch, and purses her lips together. She says something about a decoration piece for her entryway, it would work well with the domed ceilings, but Lord Cavanaugh merely shrugs her off and continues on.

"Let's go," Renit whispers in my ear.

He's already hoisting himself to another beam and extends a hand down to me. With all his strength and one hand braced against the wall, he pulls me up. Hardly an effort, considering he's moving again seconds later.

We reach a beam that turns in the other direction, towards the middle of the trove and extends out to the opposite wall. The wall with the door leading out into the palace. If we can make it out and to another servant passageway, leaving Lord Cavanaugh and his guests to the dark of the trove, this can all be over. All of it.

Renit takes the beam that changes direction, walking carefully with his arms extended out at his side. I do the same, being careful not to fall to the ground. The drop is too dangerous and if either of us finds ourselves falling, that will be our last moment before our bodies splatter onto the stone—likely impaling ourselves with some form of gold.

The prince stops, turning in all directions to survey his next move. I grip onto a wooden beam above my head, hanging over the middle of the trove, and wait for his next move. Directly below, Lord Cavanaugh is making his way through at such a slow pace I can barely stand still, every part of my body is itching with restraint.

"We need to swing to the other side," Renit whispers.

We're too far away from any other beam to climb onto, the original constructors simply split this one from one wall to the other. In the middle of two beams, the closest one being our next point, a rope dangles from the ceiling and a flat piece of wood serves as the swing. Someone put this place together, imagining they would need that swing—only for two thieves to use it years down the road.

The rope is dusted, covered in spiderwebs from hanging here for ages. But it appears mostly intact; as does the swing. The only thing holding the rope to the flat board is a large knot underneath, one that could unfurl at any moment. But I don't think about that. If I worry now, there won't be anything for my focus later.

Offering one last glance down to the group below, Renit summons a strong wind from his power that wraps around the rope and swings it close enough in our direction for him to grab. Just in case, I keep a tight grip on the back of his armor so he doesn't fall forward. As if my strength alone could hold him from falling forward and splattering on the stone floor below.

With the rope in his hand, he positions himself on the flat board, sitting tight. "Good luck," he whispers back at me with a sickly grin. He thinks this is fun. The threat of falling to our deaths, using an unreliable swing, and the possibility of being noticed by the Lord himself. Renit finds amusement in the strangest of things, usually when his life is on the line.

Renit swings across the clearing of the two beams. I cringe, holding my breath as he grabs onto the other beam and holds tight, hoisting himself with strong arms onto the wooden surface. With a grin only meant for those in search of death, he pushes the swing back to me.

The floor looms below, seemingly twisting. The flickering of the torch has moved onto a different pile of coins, and the company has followed with it. They're moving to a part of the trove we didn't get the chance to look at—possibly holding more golden suits of armor or more chests chocked full of diamond jewelry.

I position the board between my legs so when I soar through the air, I'll be sitting on it instead of only using my hands as support. Keeping a tight grip on the rope, I crouch.

On the other side, Renit is sitting on the beam, watching ever so carefully as he waits for me to make a mistake. But I won't, I'll do everything in my power to ensure he won't be the one rescuing me today. I'll do this myself.

Even if Renit isn't actually cheering me on from the other beam, I imagine his voice telling me I can do it. With that encouragement I've created myself, I push off the beam and grip tightly onto the rope. The floor opens beneath me, an empty space that if I fall, will be my end. A stuffy, dusty breeze tears at my face and when I open my eyes again, Renit is reaching out for me.

But not close enough. My fingers fall through his and I'm flying back again at a slower pace. I grip tight, hoping the rope will hold, and the swing comes to a stop. I'm dangling in the middle of two beams with Renit on one side and no hope of salvation on the other. I must get to the prince one way or the other, especially as the flaming torch is making its way back in our direction. Lord Cavanaugh is providing tours of his most treasured pieces.

"Try to rock yourself forward," Renit suggests.

I do just that, creating momentum, but it's not enough. Then a strong wind catches my back and with the further momentum I create, Renit is closer and closer. My arms are not long enough to reach so with every time I find myself close enough, I reach my legs in his direction until finally, Renit grips onto my ankles and pulls me towards him.

Renit tugs me into his lap, grabbing onto more than my ankles to get me there but I try not to think about the places his hands have been. Before the prince sets me down fully, he releases the swing from where I trapped it underneath and sends it swaying back into the open space.

We hold our breath, waiting for the creaking to stop but Lord Cavanaugh is too lost in his treasures to notice. He examines the suits of armor, their helms, but passes the one that supposedly holds the box. If he pays any sort of attention to that one, the guests might realize there's something more to it than titanium and an ancient human soldier that would have worn it—or a witch bold enough to go without their power. That would be the perfect armor for Rex.

Renit's hands brace against my back, sliding together as one to hold me in his lap. My legs dangle over the other side, into the open air of the trove. "Do you have the box?" I ask.

"In the satchel," Renit responds, equally as quiet. Our voices will echo in a place like this, the walls hear all as does the treasure. One wrong move and an entire pile of coins will come down in an avalanche of gold and dust. The treasures may be of fine substance but they have been down here for years beyond their worth.

After surveying everything below and ensuring the box is indeed in the satchel, I turn back to the prince, finding him closer than I expected. I clear my throat, leaning back but still brace my hands against the back of his neck. If I don't hold on to something, I might fall back, even with Renit's support holding me in place.

"We should probably find a way to get out of here now," I mumble. My focus doesn't belong to our escape but the closeness of his lips, the lack of space between us. Renit's warmth settles into my bones and before I've had the chance to digest Rex's kiss, I'm already thinking about another. One that hasn't happened.

Renit doesn't respond. I force myself to meet his silver eyes, finding a question there waiting for me. I've never seen that look before, it's something of wonder and guilt, regret—all mixed into one metallic gaze. Like molten silver staring back at me.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly. "Did I—" Before I can finish my sentence, a question about something I might have done wrong, Renit leans forward quicker than I can detect, and takes my lips against his own.

It's not a hurried kiss or one of pure desperation but it's soft, gentle, but also one that throws me off. And before I have the chance to relish in the feel of kissing him, he's pulling away from me and casting his eyes down, towards the necklace hidden underneath my armor. He knows it's there, knows I carry it with me during every breath, so that's where his attention goes.

"When I saw you kissing Rex, I realized something. I realized I wanted that to be me. I've known it for some time now—since the dungeons and especially so when you were trapped in the well but I was too scared to face it. I didn't want to dishonor Darlene and everything we had so I didn't act on my feelings," Renit blurts. His words are quick, laced with the truth, and for a second, his hands loosen from where they're clamped around my back.

That's the only second of a breather I give him because I take his face in my hands and kiss him again, pulling his lips towards mine. His kiss is everything how I imagined it to be, soft and wondrous, like the beginning of a storm, the sprinkling of rain that turns into a downpour.

My heart flutters in my chest as I thread my fingers into his hair, pressing myself against the prince so there isn't any room for the second-guessing either of us might have. Renit appears to be feeling the same as myself because he reaches up, cupping the side of my face in his hand and angling my jaw to deepen our contact. His leather glove scrapes against my cheek while the other so carefully keeps me from falling backward. I couldn't if I wanted to.

After all we've been through: the fights, the hatred, the protection, and the Grounding, we've finally reached this point. The point where I realize that my feelings for the prince extend much farther than I imagined, so much that when I kiss him, I feel that spark light up my entire being. The spark of his lightning, of his kiss, of his soul.

I can't stop. I become more desperate, kissing him with all I have to get the taste I've been longing for. Renit's sharp inhale of breath echoes through our space, merely this beam and no one else—no one will share this moment with us. Not the group on the floor of the trove that is slowly making their way back towards the door or the rest of the guests in the ballroom, waiting for the Lord to return.

Renit's touches become tighter, more wondrous as he explores everything he's been avoiding these past weeks. One second, his fingers are threading through my hair while the next, I'm arching into him as his strong hands slide around my waist.

Pressing into the prince, he leans back but finds there isn't any support behind him. Not the comfortable plush of a bed or a wall that will take this kiss to another level. Renit grunts against my lips and one of his hands that had been around me reaches up, slamming against one of the wooden beams above our heads to keep us from falling to the floor below. I had forgotten all about that threat. All threats seemed to lose sway in his presence.

This is what I've been searching for all along. I thought it to be freedom, the desire to explore this kingdom without bounds. But on this journey, I've found the freedom I need. I've been to one end of the kingdom and back but there was still something missing. That was Renit. Now my heart is full; that crack leaking inside patching itself back together.

I laugh against his lips as he does the same. He shushes me gently. The echo of the beam is loud to us but hopefully quiet to those that are exiting. As I pull away, Renit brings me right back in for a kiss that is slow and thorough. It steals my breath, the hidden want behind his movements, and he finally allows his hand to slide from the beam and back to grip the side of my face in his hand.

"We should probably get going," I pant. My chest rises and falls in quick breaths, as does his. Lips numb with the taste of him, I force myself not to kiss him again in fear I won't be able to stop. It's as easy as I thought it would be to lose myself in his every touch.

Renit nods, and with hands that are much steadier than my own, he lifts me out of his lap so I can grab onto the wooden beam above our heads. He does the same, and with a new tension between us, one I want to explore more than that one kiss. We make our way back down to the empty treasure trove and begin our plans to sneak out of the castle.