I wake with a gasp, blood running cold as I take in my surroundings. The cell, Renit's warm breath, and the quiet world outside. He's still sleeping, back pressed against the wall. I happened to lie down, using my own arm as a pillow, and managed to sleep for however long I was out. A while, considering how much colder it is down here than it was before.

I shiver against the wall of the dark, underground dungeons. The cell across from us is empty and part of the wall is caved from where the stone and dirt collapsed together—hopefully not onto a body. The other cell, one much larger than this one, holds remnants of blood stains and what appears to be a head in the corner, now nothing more than bone.

That won't be us, we will not die in this cell. Bren will not allow it.

Hope is shredding much faster than I thought it would, there's not enough of it to go around and I've been wasting most of what I have left on Renit. Promising that he will make it out alive is one thing I've done too many times to count.

I press my hand against his forehead, his fever has gone down but infection still lingers. That gives him a few extra hours but not enough before the healer will have to come back in here and solve the rest of our problems—if he doesn't kick Renit again, of course. I'll be ready next time, I'll move before Bren can touch me.

The prince doesn't stir in his dreams so I move to the bars, picking up the small tray of food that someone had put in here. More bread and cheese and a clean flask of water. Just the sight alone ruins my appetite before I've taken a bite. I half everything, leaving the rest for Renit when he wakes.

Just as I'm about to take a bite and force myself to swallow the dry contents of the bread, a candle flickers down the stairs. At least I think it's a candle but instead, Bren holds a small bit of flame in his palm as he shuffles over to the cell—kicking straw underneath his leather boots.

"Do you need anything else?" He asks. Sitting against the back wall of the cell, I pick at the bread and force myself to look at him. Seeing him still doesn't seem real. Like he's a ghost instead of the witch I've grown to know. "I can try to find some extra food for you—we roasted some rabbits we trapped."

I shake my head, although my mouth waters at the thought. Rabbit sounds much better than stale bread and cheese that has been sitting out for too long to be considered worthy of eating. "The only thing I need is an escape out of here. Can you get me that?" I ask blandly.

"You know I can't. We have a plan and with this short window, we can't waste our chances." He scratches at the back of his head, ruffling the shaggy orange hair, and I remember all of the fights we used to have when I kept touching that mop on his head when he clearly didn't want me to. Bren was the one that taught me how to stand up for myself, how to defend myself with a punch. I could see using that now, on the witch that imparted his wisdom to me.

I place the bread in my lap, no longer hungry. "Why?" I ask angrily. "Why do this? Why didn't you stay in Arego where the rest of the people needed you?"

"There was nothing left. I went back there to find out if they had taken you, I searched for anyone and found nothing. They killed what was left and didn't bother picking up the pieces. I had no choice but to join a cause so I could find out what happened to you."

I snort. "You didn't have to join the rebellion against the crown. The capital was only so far away and with the right contact, you could have found me that way. I thought you were dead and instead you were here, waiting for us like attack dogs. And you don't even have the decency to heal him all the way." I point a strong finger at Renit and Bren stares at him like the prince is worth nothing. Becoming the rebel he always whispered about, hate against the crown, has changed Bren. He stares at the witch I care about with death in his eyes.

With all the might he has left, Bren forces himself to look at me. "I thought you were dead. Up until a week ago when word got around that the prince was marrying some random citizen from Arego, a witch of ground. Only then did I know you were still alive and not butchered like your parents." He steps close to the bars, boots shuffling, and I glare at him. I glare at the witch he has become, filled with such revulsion that he lets the feeling charge his desires and actions.

A young witch that can't think for himself.

I take a deep breath and try to let my anger go. Renit swallows in his sleep, adjusting his head against the stone wall and that's enough to draw Bren's attention back over to him. I study the daggers at his hip, the knives in his boots, and the sword at his belt. There's more on him but with what he displays, he could take down the entire court.

"What's your plan?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"That's confidential, you don't need to know that." Bren closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head. Never once has he kept a secret from me, even one that could be considered this monumental.

"I think I do need to know because the plan involves me. If you kill him—" I jerk my chin over at Renit, "—then I die."

"Fine." He pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "We draw out the king, give him the location to find his son and when he comes, we kill him."

The breath is quickly taken from me, knocked from my lungs. They plan to kill the king. Renit is the bait, only the beginning of it all, but the real prize is what the king will bring when he comes to rescue his son. If, I have to remind myself. If he comes to rescue his son. Instead of giving into negotiations with rebels, he might just send a group of soldiers to come save what might be left of the prince.

"I'm guessing you have plans for the princes as well," I comment, completely sidestepping what he revealed. A new wave of unsettlement rises into my stomach, mixing in with the rest of the doubts I've been having, it won't be long before I'm pulling out my own hair after being in the middle of this.

Bren nods. "We kill them." His voice is low so Renit doesn't hear if he happens to be listening.

"No," I retort quickly. "If you kill them, I will kill every last one of you." I spill the words before thinking and Bren's eyes widen in shock. If given the chance, if he kills the princes, I will have to kill him.

The rebels work for a cause against the king and whatever else might be included. That means his sons. Renit and Silas have their faults but they are nothing in comparison to their father, all the things they've done are because of him—what he's forced them to do at their hand instead of his. The king merely passes on the blame so not everything comes crashing down on him for these occurrences, when rebellion strikes. Not only will he be taken down, but his sons as well.

"Leave the princes out of it. If Silas Marron is on the throne, all of your problems will go away. He's a good, kind prince, Bren. He's never once done anything wrong in his life other than what his father made him do." I clamp my hands together in front of me, practically begging for him to spare Renit's life. Two months ago, our sides would be the same. "Consider it. Take out the king, keep the original plan, but spare the princes. The kingdom will be in much better hands if Silas is on the throne instead."

Bren studies me in a different way than he has since we found each other again. His eyes search over my face, memorizing every feature, and he heaves a sigh. One of defeat. "I'll talk to the others and see what they think. That's all I can promise for now."

"Fine," I snap.

I'm never seen him look as down as he does now, like a dog that's been kicked, as he forces himself back up the stairs with that flame still in his palm. I've missed that flame, that was my beacon for many years. I watched Bren learn how to control it and chase me around with that fire until we were exhausted and could barely move.

Every part of my childhood was Bren, my first friend, my training partner, and someone I considered to be my first love. But I never...loved him. We were always pushed together by the rest of the village, including my parents and Celestine, so we believed that was what needed to happen. A union between two people, seemingly perfect for each other. In my mind, that was not the case. And I hope the same can be said for him—unless he's felt something for me and never acted on it or said anything.

At once, he did. He told me as such but we were still kids and love was merely something adult witches talked about, not us. I was too busy trying to understand my power without disappointing my father any further than what I already had done. While Celestine was the perfect daughter, I was trying to climb the ranks. I didn't have time for Bren or anyone else in the village for that matter.

He never pushed me and we saved the subject for when we were old enough. I look over at Renit, realizing that future could never be. I was supposed to lead Arego with Bren and Celestine at my side but that will not happen. Not with the prince.

I twist the ring around my finger, carved with Renit's initials, and look to the one on his finger. Those aren't Bren's initials and they never will be. The fate of the kingdom lays in the hands of the royal family and me. If I don't get the prince back—which I will—this kingdom could fall apart and lose another day to the murky cloud of threat that is already hanging over the citizens.

After every day, more and more witches are slaughtered. I haven't seen the massacres for myself but it's not much different than here, at Fosux. Gibbets in the streets, blood stains on the stones, piles of bodies in mass graves. These people are the king's subjects, the people loyal to him, yet they're the ones facing his wrath. He's the one in charge of protecting them and his job is far from done. All efforts have not started.

I eat the rest of my meal, choking down as much bread and cheese as I can take. Not much, and I leave the rest of it for Renit when he wakes. There's nothing left for me to do in a cell of this small size so I lay back down and try to fall asleep.

Boots shuffle in front of the bars and I expect to see Bren there but instead Tesha watches me, face and head now uncovered. Those dark eyes are the same but the rest of her is revealed, full lips painted red, and dark—long hair that flows down her back. In the moonlight coming in from the open stairway, I catch a glimpse of the dark brown shine.

"We need to talk, princess," she says by way of greeting. "Care for a stroll?"