After serving an entire meal for the community of rebels, scheduled within hours of each other as all those meals can't be cooked at once, I finally take a seat in the community kitchens to rest my exhausted legs. Long ago, before I started cleaning the kitchens and the dining area after dinner was served, Dalis left to go to bed.

She's been on her feet all day, cooking meals and preparing the next for each batch of rebels to come in and eat her delicious food. Times like this I'm reminded of when my parents were still alive and everything was normal. I spent hours in the community kitchens, helping the mortal witches prepare meals for the refugees. Back then, they were looking for second chances. Now, the people here are out for blood.

Dalis isn't the first witch of water to work in the community kitchens and I hope she won't be the last. But, by far, she's the most productive and, after years of working in the castle kitchens with Mills at her side, can create far better meals for the rebels to scarf down. I've never seen someone have so much variation when it comes to cooking fish and preparing sides to go with it.

I can hardly chew fish anymore without grimacing, but Dalis's flavors are new and exciting—they bring along a different taste every time and I have trouble, along with the rest of the rebels, not wondering what she'll come up with next.

I run my hands over my face and completely ignore the fact they're covered in flour. Today, for dinner, the fish was fried. Around a bread coating, heavily salted for flavor, the fish was delectably light and airy on the tongue. How Dalis can master such a skill...I'll never know. I may not be the best cook, but at least I can provide a bit of expertise when chopping vegetables or breading the fish for frying.

After one brutal attempt at frying the fish myself, Dalis took over with a quick scolding towards my impatient, sloppy technique. Now, sitting in the dining area of the community kitchens, I wish she would have fried up one more fish for my dinner. I'm stuck with an apple, two raw carrots that I'll have to choke down, and a slice of raw fish left behind on the counter in case a rebel comes back and looks for seconds.

I'm about ready to lay my head on the table from hunger and exhaustion when I hear Celestine's voice calling out to me from the hallway. I don't have the strength to call back; she'll find me, eventually. If she doesn't, I'll tell her later to be thorough in her pursuits to find me in a village that holds more hiding spots than people.

The tables are empty; the plates are cleaned in the kitchens, and the only thing left to assist is myself. I'm covered in an array of foods from dinner, splattered or smeared against the white apron tied around my waist. The only thing in the community kitchens is me, sitting with my back to the door, hunched over the splintered table—a twin to the bench.

"There you are!" Celestine exclaims from behind. The floorboards creak underneath her boots and I look behind me to flash her a weak smile. Compared to my condition, she's as bouncy and lively as ever. One of the traits I admire most about my sister is her inability to drag herself so far under that she can barely resurface again. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Dalis said you'd be home by now, but when I got there, Renit said you'd probably be training with Citlali, but she said you were probably at the community kitchens. So I circled." She shrugs and sits down on the bench opposite of mine, bracing her hands against the table to lower herself slowly.

Not only did Celestine inherit nearly every physical trait from my mother, but her mannerisms are the same, too. The way they move, like princesses, is nearly identical to each other. I may not have a semblance of my father left behind, but when I look at Celestine, I spot my mother there in her smile, her bright eyes, and her cheerful nature.

I miss my mother; I miss both my parents. But Celestine makes the guilt and mourning a little easier. In no way does she attempt to ease the weight I've applied on my shoulders, but without trying, Celestine does more than that. She is the reason I'm fighting for a better kingdom. I want her to live in a safe place, one not prone to the dangers of a throne or the man sitting within its cushion.

"You look amazing," Celestine adds. She props her chin on her fist. Her hazel eyes drift to the strands of my hair, coated in flour and sticking out at odd angles after I ran my fingers through it too many times to count.

I roll my eyes. "Thank you for the compliment. I love hearing how shitty I look behind your sarcasm."

She giggles at my pain. "You're really helping Dalis through everything she's going through. Not being with Mills...it's taking a toll on her and cooking in the kitchens is the only thing that helps her through."

I nod in agreement to her statement. Dalis is silent most of the time, the only witch she desires to talk to is Binx, and that happens on the rarest of occasions. Otherwise, she's in the kitchens or spending time alone with Citlali. Their friendship has recently developed and after meeting in Lona, they've realized there's more to learn from each other than waiting for the world to figure that out for them.

"Do you think he's still alive?" I ask numbly. I've wondered since the day I realized Dalis was no longer in the castle. Her treason will not fall onto her head, but on Mills's. The king won't hesitate to kill him if he hasn't already thought about it because of the old chef's life span. Being a mortal witch and having a daughter that aided in ruining the king's third hand? A second will not be wasted.

Celestine's mood changes quickly. Seconds ago, she was bubbly and smiling. Now, the guilt she has hidden so well is plastered onto her face like someone painted it on there, spelling out exactly how she feels. Her frown deepens and her auburn brows crease together in concentration. "I have little hope for anyone I care about being alive, anymore," she says. A loose piece in the table becomes her focus. "But I wouldn't tell Dalis that."

"We've avoided the subject as well as we can. But we'll only wonder for so long. Eventually, when we finally further the plan to take down the king—the truth will be discovered."

Her shrug is anything but natural. "I don't allow myself to think that far. Right now...I want to focus on the little things. Feel happiness. It's been too long."

I can respect that. Truly, we've never had complete happiness. When we lived in Arego with our parents, the threat of the king was looming over us with each passing day. The close proximity of his guards strolling past, not bothering to enter but coming close enough to send a shiver up my spine, the nights I swore I heard a deep, booming voice out in the streets. I believed it to be him, only to wake and realize my mind was playing tricks on me.

Arego never held the happiness a normal witch could have. We lived day by day, believing he'd come at some point, but when we were least prepared, the king made his grand entrance by sending his son. The gesture showed how little he cared about us in the first place.

Celestine's one chance at happiness will be right now. We're training, preparing ourselves for what will happen next, and if we don't make it out, I'll want her to have these weeks as her happiness instead of waiting and hoping for something that may never come. Late night training with Bren to evolve her power and idle conversations with Citlali and Dalis prove to be what she's searching for, but Celestine has always longed for more. Same as I.

I found my freedom within the Grounding, within Renit, within discovering the complex nature of my power. But Celestine, through the chaos of finding herself without parents and living alone in a castle, nearly falling for the crown prince and discovering he wasn't the one for her, she's still searching. The endless ride of discovery isn't going to end until the power she took for herself is understood and the king is off the throne. Only then will Celestine be able to take a deep breath and relish in her freedom.

Knuckles rasp on the stone behind us and I turn, finding Bren standing in the doorway, holding three plates of grilled fish in his hands. My mouth waters at the sight and my eyes must hold the truth to my hunger for Bren smirks, sliding the plate in front of me. "Where did you make this?" I ask.

"I know how to cook, Roux. I'm not completely foolish," Bren retorts. Carefully, as if catering to a princess, he slides the plate in front of Celestine and plops himself down on the wooden bench next to me. "You prepared an entire meal for the rebels, I think it's time you eat. If you don't, Renit will be pissed that you're not maintaining your weight."

"Very true." I don't bother waiting for decency and take my first bite of the fish, only to inhale the next and the next. My stomach rumbles with acceptance, but my company is too busy eating that they don't notice. Either that, or they're kind enough to keep their mouths shut.

We sit silently, forks and plates clinking together, scraping against the porcelain. "What do you think this village will look like once the king is dead?" Celestine asks boldly. Her tone reveals no other option. Alone in the community kitchens, she's not scared to say it. In the castle, she'd never utter a word about His Highness. Not even if it was a compliment.

Bren doesn't fail to notice her bold nature, either. The raise of his eyebrows and the slight slowing of his hand as he cuts into another bite of fish gives me all the answers I need. He obliges her anyway. "Once Silas is on the throne, I think he'll make Arego an official village of Esaria. Maybe establish trade and expand out towards the river. It won't become a place for refugees or rebels; it'll be a village for all witches. We'll make it our own."

He never once breaks his stare from her, a silent truth hidden underneath his words. They'll make it their own. Together. If Silas is on the throne once this is over, I have no doubt he'll reinstate his brother as prince of Esaria. And that'll make me a princess. Being that I'll be a prince's wife and living in the castle, I won't be the one destined to bring Arego back from the brink of destruction. Bren and Celestine will.

"That would be wonderful." Celestine's eyes brighten in awe. "We could build the village ourselves, like father did." At that, she taps my hand in silent promise. At least I'm still involved.

"That's what they wanted," I say. "They wanted Arego to be sustainable years beyond their death. This isn't the way they wanted it to happen, but one way or the other, Arego will survive."

Bren nods in agreement. "To think we'll be as established as Flitsea or Lona...that'd be incredible." The fork drags along his teeth when he wills it.

"Even through everything that's happened here, we'd still be better than Ducoria." I shiver at the memory of the fog-lined streets, the pit pocketers around every corner, the rat meat cooking and sold as beef. If I never had to go back...I'd be fine with that.

Celestine laughs. "Or Lona. I can't imagine going there again, the citizens were absolutely terrible."

"I'm not letting you go there anyway," Bren mocks. "I can't believe Silas sent you there with only Dalis as your protection. Anything could've happened."

Celestine's eyes soften when she looks at him. The mood in the room shifts and I find myself as the odd one out. "We made it back; everything went smoothly. Except for my new power, of course."

As if she doused his flame with a bucket of water, putting him in the trance of her subtle easing, Bren relaxes his shoulders and his eyes gloss over in a daze. "The future is bright for all of us. Once this is over, we'll do what is right for Arego. Somewhere, along the lines of this screwed up world, we'll find our happiness." As if Bren is reading my mind, he says those words aloud.

I open my mouth to speak, to ask that question as to what Celestine has planned for Arego, but shouting erupts outside the community kitchens. All three of us turn towards the open door, the building seemingly shaking as boots thunder past.

"What the hell is that?" Bren asks.

We stand in unison, already heading towards the door. Celestine is right behind me and I turn quicker than she can detect and grab her shoulders. "You stay here," I order.

She has the audacity to appear offended. "No, I'm going to help. I'm not an innocent witch of the gardens anymore; I can help." She attempts to shove out of my grip but I hold tighter onto the boney nature of her shoulders. One reason why I don't want her to help.

As if the chaos was undetectable before, shouting and thunder erupts. Renit is out there—alone. Something is here and if I don't get out there soon...

"Celestine, I want you to stay. If it's something we can test your power with, I'll come back for you. All right?"

Her eyes drop in disappointment but she nods her head towards the floor. "Fine, I'll wait here."

I move towards the door, backing towards it to ensure she doesn't try to follow me like a scared dog. Bren has already vacated his spot and has disappeared into the street. Lighting cracks across the sky, visible through the window, and my heart nearly leaps into my throat.

"Stay safe, all right?" I demand. My voice tries, and fails, to convey the sense of reassurance.

Celestine twiddles her fingers and nods. Her swallow is visible. "I promise."

I don't have enough time to lock her up somewhere. From the sounds of it, something is here, and we'll have to fight it. I jog out onto the street, unsurprised by Renit's storm brewing near the trail leading towards Mailan. His wind cuts through my hair and I rely on the Grounding bond, the rope tightened around my heart, to lead me towards him.

Rebels are running left and right and preparing themselves for what we've trained for. It's not until I reach Renit, grabbing onto his arm to show him I'm there, that I realize what we're up against. Standing towards Mailan, dressed in black with the accents of blood adorning their armor, are the king's soldiers.