I hand over the appropriate amount of copper coins, dropping them in the hand of the old merchant, and take my bushel of apples. He frowns at me and tilts his head, scrutinizing every inch of my strained face, and turns his attention back to another customer searching through his selection of oranges. With no teeth and grey hair sticking out in all directions, he appears to belong to Ducoria rather than the somewhat fine-looking people of Lona.

Although just as dangerous, both people living in either city have a tendency to charge more for their wares to outsides rather than the familiar faces. Renit and I don't mind, we're too busy trying to figure how we're supposed to get back down the mountain. Since we're not allowed to go out the way we came, we must purchase two new horses and send guards for the others we left behind. They're the king's horses, if he discovers they're in the hands of a Ducoria slob then he'll throw a fit for the ages.

I hand over the bushel of apples to Renit and we continue on through the market. There's hardly anyone here at such an early hour but the merchants still keep a sharp eye out for anyone suspicious. We are the crowd they're looking for with our heavy satchels full of belongings and how quiet we have remained during our stay. Apparently, by now, they're used to witnessing the heads of strangers spiked on gates.

We've sold our armor off to someone in need, a man and a woman on their way to the fighting pits, and have managed to either sell or give away most of the weapons to trainers and students alike. Strange looks, suspicious whispers greeted us, but no one acted on whether we belonged here. And no one has recognized Renit to be who he is. I can be thankful for that; these people might see him as a target rather than an ally.

Once we're through the market, leaving behind arguing customers threatening to slice throats if the merchants don't cut down their prices by at least half, we search for stables. Considering that's where the horses will be, away from the buildings and in a barn or pasture, that is where we need to be looking.

But a familiar scent lingers in the air, one I've recognized all too well. I sniff the air and seconds later, Renit does the same. With furrowed brows, I look back and forth—wondering where that is coming from. Not only am I having trouble finding the correct direction but recognizing the source is just as difficult. I feel like I've known this scent, have mingled with this scent, hated it and loved it, and I've held it near and dear to my heart. But I've also feared it.

"What is that?" Renit asks. He stops in the middle of the street, centered around a fountain and bordered on tall stone buildings. The interior curtain of someone's second floor home billows from the morning breeze.

"I don't know," I mutter.

It's too familiar. I can feel it inside me, wakening, reminding me of what's there. My power. That's why the smell is so familiar. Somewhere nearby, a power identical to my own is being used. Renit could smell it because of the Grounding and I can smell it because that smell has suffocated me but also granted freedom when I needed it to.

"The power of ground," I breathe. I huff a laugh.

Before Renit can ask me questions, I'm already moving in the direction the smell is coming from. At least where I think it might be. The cool air of the morning mingles against my skin as I walk briskly towards a faint rumble and cracking of stone and dirt from the surface of the world we're standing on.

My heart nearly leaps into my throat as the ground rumbles beneath my feet, followed by someone hollering insults at another. Another rumble sounds, and a glass window painted with the design of a cupcake shakes when I walk past it.

Renit nearly has to jog to keep up with me but even if I haven't looked back at him, it's evident there's a weapon in his hand and a striking sense of determination in his eyes. It strikes me that once Renit is seriously preparing himself for an altercation, no one could escape his hurtling fury.

I round the corner quickly, drawing strength of my own towards my power, to find a woman standing in the middle of the street, circling a man holding twin swords tight in his fist. Renit places a hand on my shoulder before I can interfere and protect whoever shares my power with me—if there's a bond stronger than a Grounding then it is a witch of the same power. Meeting another is rare, especially since I am the last in this kingdom.

The man lashes out with his twin swords and the young woman jumps back, bringing up a chunk of stone with her to fling at him. But he's too quick, he dodges, rolls, and lands back on his feet in a matter of a second before attacking again. I've never seen my power worked somewhere else, I can barely breathe as I watch her work—watch her force the power to be her slave as I should have done from the beginning.

She sends an unexpected blast with the side of her hand, bringing up rock and dirt with her. The debris smacks the man in the side of the face, sending him sideways, and he does not rise again. Not because she killed him but merely knocked him unconscious so she could get away. At the same time the side of his head smacks against the stone surface of the street, the crowd that had formed to watch the bloodshed quickly disperses, at a loss for what they were searching for.

The woman snatches up her satchel and examines the new rip in the side. But the disappointment doesn't last for long as she slings the strap over her shoulder and heads in the opposite direction of where Renit and I are standing. Leaving this mess behind. That's all my power has created is messes.

"Wait!" I blurt.

Renit doesn't stop me, it wouldn't be wise to, as I jog after her moving figure through an alley. I don't care what it takes, I will talk to her. Following the snow-white strands of her hair, wavy all the way to the middle of her back, I keep my distance when it's clear she's aware I'm following her. She doesn't turn around but her gait quickens with every time I accidentally crash into a trash bag resting in the alley.

The outskirts of Lona stretch before us—dirt streets and wood buildings that have long lost their purpose. The windows are shattered, the planks have been torn out and re-purposed; the decorations sold for a decent price.

When I think all hope is lost, I jog. I need to talk to her; I need to know why it was me instead of her that the king found and took back to the castle. The king had come in search of another witch of ground, one that lived in Lona, but the citizens claimed they had long been dead. She was hiding out and they...these people protected her.

I reach out, ready to grab her shoulder, and the stench of our power becomes so strong that I know what's coming. The blast she sends my way is blocked by one of my own—our powers slam together as one and a brutal ringing echoes out through the open space. Dirt and rock spray out in all directions, sand kissing at my cheeks like sharp needles banking into my skin. Wincing, I clamp my hands over my ears as Renit does the same, somehow keeping a sword in his grip as well.

Her nostrils flare as she stares at me, olive-colored eyes that droop in the corners; wide with fear. She takes one step back and I hold out a hand to stop her. "Wait!" I plead. "Please, just wait."

"You're...you're a witch of ground," she whispers. She points at me with a long, pale finger that's already shaking from the realization she's not alone in this kingdom. I had been thinking the same thing all along.

I don't know what to say to her. I'm so lost for words that Renit drops a silver coin into her palm and jerks his chin towards one of the rundown buildings on the side of the street. A price for conversation after being too wary to stop at the beginning. She stares at the coin questioningly, but judging by the tear in her satchel, she will use that offer for supplies to either buy a new one or repair the one she has.

My hands are still vibrating from the collision of our power as I follow the two of them into the empty threshold of a broken-down building, left to die by those that once occupied the cots in the bedrooms, next to the armoire with no doors left to name. An old chair long removed of its fabric is what Renit pulls out for our guest, who sits carefully and crosses her arms over her chest.

She's beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Her pale skin is darker than the white hair but every feature in her face is one carefully crafted. The high cheekbones, the plump lips redder than any blood I've ever seen, and the pointed nose to cancel out every other, a man's dream of a beautiful face.

"What do you want?" She snaps. Her eyes do not go to Renit but find their way to me. Although the prince stands in front of her, I rest my shoulder against the doorframe, a sense of security while I try finding my way back to reality.

Renit silently asks if I want to go first but with my tongue still tied, I shake my head and look to the floor. I can barely look her in the eye. "Where were you when the king came looking for a witch of ground?" Renit asks. His voice is not one of a friend speaking to another, but him interrogating a prisoner.

She sits back in the chair, staring up at him with a gaze I wouldn't want to be on the other side of. On the wooden floorboards of this home, debris of all kinds layabout. Underneath her feet, shards of broken stone from another piece of furniture have created a mess of their own.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she counters.

Renit scoffs. "Don't lie. Lona covered for you, protected you from the king so you wouldn't have to serve. Why?"

"If you want that information, you'll have to cough up another one of those silvers." She centers her attention the coin pouch hanging from Renit's belt, holding what coins it will take to purchase horses and make our way back to the capital with a full supply of food.

Something about her voice is authoritative enough for Renit to comply. He rolls his eyes but hands over another silver coin for her to take. Examining it front and back, she smirks back over at me and then at Renit like we're nothing more than two children that cornered her. She laughs as if we're the most amusing thing she's ever seen.  We're nothing to her, knowing the strength of her power will cause monumental damage is enough to warrant that confidence.

"My name is Citlali Leski. They believed me to be the last witch of ground in the kingdom until she came along." She jerks her thumb at me but doesn't tear her stare away from the prince. "Since she's another witch of ground, I assume you're the prince, the witch of storm with the Outbursts."

Renit nods. He shifts his ankles back and forth, crossing and uncrossing. She looks down at her hands, picking at her nails. It's out in the open, our identifications, what we're doing here and the threats that lie underneath those names the world has given us.

"I'm guessing you're here to take me back?" Citlali asks sheepishly.

I study the tear in her satchel, revealing apples and an array of other supplies hidden beneath the leather. She was out shopping when someone tried to steal what she had purchased. The result of that had been knocking the man unconscious and finding us standing not too far away.

She's dressed like every other resident of this kingdom, in a tunic with a dull shade of red, a leather belt around her waist, and a pair of dark pants with a patch over one knee. Her hair is smooth, like the finest of fresh snow on a sunny winter day and her eyes are the trees losing their leaves for the season.

"Why would we be taking you back?" I blurt, trying, and failing, to give my voice the sound of bored curiosity. Those are the first words I've managed to let out, a terrible squeak of a question.

Citlali turns, her white hair swaying with the movement, and sympathy flashes in her eyes. "Because the Grounding didn't work. You need someone stronger."

Shaking his head, Renit clarifies. "No, the Grounding worked. We want to know why we didn't find you. We looked all over the kingdom for a witch of ground and couldn't find an exact location on you."

This could have been the woman Renit ended up with. If they found her and took her to the castle instead, I never would have met him and we never would have found ourselves tangled up in a bed, exploring every inch that wasn't beyond the boundaries of our clothes. I think of Renit's hands, hot against my stomach once they found their way up my shirt. The breathless kisses, his lips against my throat and kissing down, down...I blink away the thought when Citlali's voice snaps me back to attention.

"I asked the Lona citizens to protect me. Since I was a strong competitor in the fighting pits, they agreed. They hid me away until your father left, believing there was never a witch of ground in the first place. I figured I was in the clear when they found her instead." Citlali jerks her chin over and I force a close-lipped smile. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to shackle me and take me back to the king for disobeying?"

Renit pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers, already annoyed with this conversation. "No, that's not...I don't do those things. We're not taking you anywhere, we just wanted to ask questions."

Relief flashes, her eyes brightening and her posture loosening. One of her arms slides away from where she'd crossed them over her chest and she looks between the two of us. "I've never met another with the same power as my own. All this time, I believed I was the last one until the engagement celebration when the king announced your name," Citlali says. That's why the sympathy was thrown in my direction like a cold, damp towel. Because she believes I'm trapped, same as she would have been.

"We've fallen on good times," I confess, smiling at Renit.

For the first time ever, he winks at me. That brings back even more of what we did last night, how close we came until Renit stopped my hands from undoing the belt holding his pants up. Not in a bed in Lona, back at the castle, he promised.

"A bond as strong as Grounding is bound to create something more," Citlali states.

The prince clears his throat, snapping us all back to the conversation at hand. "Besides that, we're simply passing through and on our way back to the capital as of this morning," he explains.

Citlali purses her lips together. "Then I'm free to go?"

"You're free to go. We'll be heading out ourselves."

Renit moves towards me, taking my hand in his. When I hesitate, giving him that silent look meaning I need a moment alone with her, his fingers slide through mine and he passes through the threshold and out onto the street beyond.

"If you...if you get the chance, write me a letter. My name is Roux Aimrey and I've wanted for years to talk to someone about the complexity of my power," I blurt.

Citlali stops from where she had been moving to leave and nods slowly. "I'll send the letter in code." She flashes a white grin. "I know the urges you feel. Our power is strong and I've always wanted to know what it's like in the hands of another. We're bonded, Roux, whether we feel it or not. Two powers of one kind will not forget each other."

Not knowing what else to say, I nod and step aside to allow her departure. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as she bows her head to my status before leaving. Even a witch of ground in Lona, a hater of the king and all his blood, can respect a common entity.