The warmth of the king's hands presses against my shoulders. Their slight pressure is my world, my reason, the only way I can breathe without the sense of someone choking the air from my lungs—their hands wrapped around my throat so tight I must squeeze my eyes shut against the impending doom. But the king's hands, that terror drifts away with them there. On my shoulders, pressing down, down; forcing me to be his eternal slave.

I don't see it that way. The king's ways—his reason for being so cruel—I must agree with. I must do everything he asks of me, for that is my only way of living. Not surviving, but living. My life cannot be lived if he is not here, standing in front of me, his hands reminding me that the world revolves around the scars against his palms and the tattoos on the backs of his dry, callused skin.

His eyes hold nothing but the truth. What truth? I do not know. He hasn't said a word, the only bit of recognition in his features being the stark resemblance to Renit and the faint features involving Silas's smirk. His two sons embody him. And the same goes for the other way around.

Looking up into the eyes many claim to be a hellacious leader, I smile. And he smiles back. The throne room appears around me as if that grin alone unlocked my future and I can see; I can witness the world without the king in front of me.

My body moves on its own accord to take in the room and bask in the blood sprayed against the walls and stained against the marble floor. Bodies litter, weapons fall empty in loose grasps, and only one witch remains standing. He's hunched in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, his nose dripping with blood and his body leaking with flame.

Renit Marron. The banished prince of Esaria. He stands before me, the king to my back. His hands are still on my shoulders as my guide from one step to the next. One after the other, I make my way across the room to stand before the witch that took everything from me. My heart is empty, my soul is gone, my entire being is withering into nothing and I can barely grasp the urge to look into his silver eyes. I once adored that color.

Now I cannot stand it.

Even after all he's done, Renit looks down at me and finds a semblance of love within the amber of my gaze. I will not convey the same expression. Just as I'm about to thrust the sword in my hand into his body, a weapon I didn't realize I was holding, a brutal sting erupts through my abdomen.

My scream is gone; I cannot speak. I look down, finding a sword through my own stomach. The blade drips red and encasing the weapon, encasing me, is flame. Finding Renit's eye again, he's smiling. And when I turn back to ask for help from my king, he's smiling, too. They've turned against me. As father and son, two destined for the crown, they've decided my life is no longer worthy.

Silas is dead. His body is hanging from the mezzanine, a rope around his throat, arms dangling at his sides and feet limp. Renit is going to take the throne.

He'll kill us all.

But first, he'll start with me.

Renit Marron, now the future king of Esaria, grasps his hands onto both sides of my face. The last thing I feel is the cold press of his palms against my skin, damp with sweat, before he squeezes tight and snaps left.

My eyes fly open and a gasp escapes from my throat, my body lurching up. Sweat coats my skin and my clothes stick to my body; the sheets and duvet are twisted around my legs to confine me. I breathe rapidly, unable to find the air in my lungs, and grapple onto the duvet for some type of hold. There's no security here.

Before I've fully woken, I'm already slipping. My chest tightens, my throat seemingly closing off to air, and my heart flutters with uncertainty. "Renit," I gasp, slamming my shaking hand against his stomach and gripping tight. "Renit." My voice is barely more than a wheeze but his eyes flutter open at the same time vomit climbs up my throat.

The banished prince of Esaria, the one who snapped my neck, sits up quickly and braces my body in his grasp. But it's too late. I lean sideways over the bed and vomit into the rusted bucket left there for this reason exactly. This is different. My other nightmares haven't dragged me under so quickly. This one, though...my mouth is dry, my tongue is sandpaper, and my throat is flooded with sand of another make.

"It's all right," Renit reassures. I can hardly hear him. I've moved on from this world and into another. I'm drowning and no one, not even Renit, can pull me to the surface.

I must get out of the confines of this bed. I throw the sheets back and untwist myself from the duvet with brutal kicks from my sore legs. All the while, my breath wheezes through my throat and from the pain of that alone, tears shed from the corners of my eyes. I can't...do this anymore. I can't keep facing these nightmares and the panic that comes afterward.

The only thing I can do is stand on shaken knees and pace back and forth in the room Renit and I are sleeping in. Moonlight sheds in from the drawn curtains over the windows and a cold rush of air seeps in from underneath the door to chill the sweat on my bare feet. I drag both hands through my hair and gasp, only to find my breath coming out in a shaken sob.

Don't slip, I warn myself. Don't drag yourself under.

Renit is there in a second to brace his hands against my shoulders as the king once did. The man I love, his touch feels like the man that controlled me. It awakens the chills within my body and I force his hands away. I don't want his touch. My mind is fighting the battle between recognizing Renit to be the witch he once was and the witch he is now. His father made him to be that person, to behave that way, and I cannot fault Renit for that. I cannot.

The witch I love, the one of storm, stands with his hands tucked tightly against his stomach as if I broke his wrists in the process of forcing them away from my shoulders. The sorrow in his eyes doesn't make me feel any better; he's wondering what he did wrong and what he can do to fix it.

My body shivers; shakes. My knees buckle from where they've held me up but Renit is there to catch me before I fall. He scoops me into his arms and carries me back towards the bed, sitting on the edge to cradle me against his body. As quickly as he can, before I can force him away again, he tightens his grip on the Grounding bond and sends a wave of his storm in my direction.

It slithers through, starting at my chest and branching out like leaves on a tree to soothe and relax the impending doom leaking into my brain—mimicking inflammation.

"It's all right," Renit whispers. My shuddering slows. "I'm here." My tears stop their flow. "He won't hurt you." My chest loosens.

Immensely drained and limp with exhaustion, I lean my head against his chest and sigh deeply. The room is clear again, Renit's touch doesn't threaten to snap me in two, and the air comes as if it was there all along. All that's left behind is faint dizziness. My head spins but rested against Renit's racing heart, the inability to remain steady subsides.

"Sorry," I mumble against him. I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

Renit emits that point. "You have no reason to apologize." Sadness resides in his eyes when he gazes at me. The gentle warmth of his kiss spreads to my forehead and I close my eyes to breathe in one final scent of his storm. The salted rain, cold winds, and burnt lightning.

"Your father was there." I swallow the dry sandpaper in my throat. "You were, too. You...you killed me."

Renit's hand stills from where his thumb was rubbing against the outside of my knee. "I'd never do that, I promise."

"I know."

In silent apology, he kisses my forehead again. It's the only reassurance he can offer that isn't expressed through words. Although still holding me in his arms, cradling me like a child, I'm still detached from the world around me. Right now, through no fault of his own, Renit's touch won't bring the warmth I long for. He can try, but my soul will not accept it.

"What do you need?" He whispers as not to startle the panic drifting away.

"I need...some air." To my surprise, the truth comes easily.

Renit is gentle when he sets me back onto the ground, on my own two feet, and brushes back a strand of scarlet hair from my sweat-lined forehead. "Do you want me to go with you?" He asks.

I shake my head against his touch. "No...no I'd like to go alone. If that's all right."

He nods. It must be killing him to have this detachment between us. We take one step forward and another step back, day by day. We still love each other, but the climb to stand on the same level is one I can't reach. Not after everything his father did to alter the witch I should have been all along. At the fault of his order, I killed those innocent people. An entire village of humans that, given my true soul, I would've sided with. Now they're dead.

"I'll be here when you get back. If you want, we can talk about it," Renit promises.

I stand on my toes to kiss him one last time before sliding on my socks and lacing my leather boots. Renit's eyes are on me the entire time, all the way to the door that leads out into the empty and cold streets of Arego.