After taking a bath, cleaning myself thoroughly and washing the muck of the past few weeks out of my hair with a luxurious shampoo of fine making, I realize how much I was at mistake for questioning Citlali. I smell clean, my skin is smooth and clear, and my hair isn't clumped or knotted as it has been.

Along with the bath, I sense the emptiness left behind from Celestine's death slowly drift down the drain with the dirt-stained water. Alone in the bathing room of grey stone walls and wooden floorboards, I stare at myself in the cracked mirror and brush out the scarlet strands of my hair. When we were children, Celestine wanted nothing more than to style my hair with braids in the shape of a crown over my scalp. I never obliged her until our mother told me to.

My mouth turns down after it had crept into the whisper of a smile at the thought of her. The change is caused by the tattoo snaking to my chest and staring back at me through the mirror, its smile concealing daggers of a sharp make. I scrubbed the area clean, and that made the ink brighter as though it'll never fade. Not until I do.

I've come to terms with having it, but staring at the freshly cleaned ink against the bulk I managed to gather underneath the king's control and during these weeks of training...it churns my insides. I am this person now; I am the last Aimrey in my family and nothing will change that. My family won't come back from the dead; how I've wished they could and witnessed it in my dreams—their death is final. As is the cold wasting of my heart.

The wooden door painted white is shut, blocking me off to the rest of the inn room. Citlali didn't disappoint, the room is much fancier than the one Renit and I shared months ago when we searched for the crystals. Everything was easier back then, whether I realized it or not, and I never should've taken advantage of being here rather than the castle. It wasn't long after we got back that hell unleashed itself from the clouds and rained down upon us in the shape of frozen blades.

My eyes drift to the tattoo again. The markings result from that night in the throne room. It was supposed to be Dalis's birthday, but the king used it as my rebirth into the monster he was searching to create. The king's third hand. I scoff at the title given to me, wrapped in a bow the shade of blood and handed over without a second thought. I merely filled Renit's shoes, and even that hadn't been good enough to steer myself a permanent spot.

The king searched for faults within me, within Binx, within everyone he came in contact with during those experiments. He wanted only loyalty—nothing more, nothing less. I couldn't grant him that, for there was still the true self hidden underneath, I just hadn't realized how...suffocated she was. I find myself feeling the same way now. Only the ache has worsened.

I force myself to stare back at the amber eyes meeting mine. In the background, the white curtain framing the tub disappears to my vision, and it's only my clean face, the damp strands of my hair, the sharp line of my jaw—everything stares back. My mother's eyes, but their courage isn't the same. I couldn't save her daughter, I couldn't...I couldn't do anything right. The only reason I'm here now is at the hands of those that are willing to leap over cliffs with jagged rocks below to keep me safe.

I've done...nothing.

My jaw tightens, but I make the conscious decision to not rile. Renit is outside the door, waiting for me to remove myself from the bathing room so he can finally take a bath himself. I can't make a crumbling fool of myself when he's so exhausted; he can hardly keep his eyes open.

Before I disappeared and locked myself in here, he slumped onto the edge of the large bed and promised to retrieve a meal from downstairs. The removal of his boots left me with a different answer, as did the slumping of his shoulders. I hadn't worried much about it until now, he may be sleeping out there instead of actually preparing to place our dinners on the table.

My palms grip onto the porcelain sink underneath the mirror and I drift my eyes towards it, rather than the face staring back at me. Disappointment shadows the amber shade of my eyes. Not to blame the situation, but myself. I'm disappointed in who I've come to be and the ghost of the witch I could've been. She left my body the day the king used me for his experiments.

I reach for her often; the sweet, loving, joyous witch the people of Arego used to recognize me as. But like a phantom piece of me that's no longer there, I can't seem to find her through the twisted and sharp vines in my mind protecting my heart from another shatter. The protection, the barricade within my mind isn't set up to fend off the attempts made by others. It's for myself. So I don't make myself crumble.

Again, I scoff. My current state of mind is pure shit.

My cold hands peel away from the sink, my knuckles white, and I spot a silk robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door. I trace the fabric between my fingers, and instead of choosing the clothes meant to suffocate me for another day, a pair of cinch-waist pants the shade of mud and a sleeveless top—too tight for comfort—I choose the robe.

With nothing underneath, the silk fabric chills my damp skin but warms my core when I tie the silk rope around my waist into a tight knot and turn towards the mirror to view myself once more. The rose shade does nothing to alter my features of utter despair and boredom; the only explanation as to the shield I've cast over my features to appear as calm as possible.

Except for the false laughter and jokes, this is what I've maintained. On the inside, I'm creaking and breaking into dust. But for Renit's sake, I'll remain as normal as I can. It may be the only thing to get us through.

The round, golden knob is cold in my hand. I don't want to leave; I don't want to face the world again, but I must. If I can't make the kingdom better for Celestine, I'll do it for those like her. The witches and humans that need it. If she was still here, a ghost over my shoulder, she'd tell me the same thing. I know she would.

A cold rush under the door, chilling my bare toes, leads me into our inn room. It's large compared to what we've shared before—in terms of walking space, it's nearly as big as Renit's chambers back at the castle. The layout isn't as complicated, the bed in the corner from a cutout in the wall hides behind silk curtains draping over the bedframe. Wooden floorboards of a dark shade, shined and polished, stretch from one end of the room to the next and disappear out into the hallway beyond the door—locked and bolted shut twice. No one is getting in here tonight, not if we have anything to say about it.

An armoire painted a cherry red shade with accents of whites and pinks is in the corner near the open window, the curtains framing it fluttering in gentle waves. Like that of the ocean. The coat rack by the door is busy with our coats, satchels, and the remainder of the clothes we shed off in need of a wash. We have just enough money for that, to have a single wash of our clothes, and we won't waste that opportunity when Arego has no such luxuries.

In front of the bathing room door and atop a faded green rug is a wooden table similar to the one Renit and I shared in Arego. The one that cradled Celestine's body after she died. I force myself not to imagine what it looked like, the sickening sound of the knife removed from her chest by the hands of someone stronger than myself. I never could've brought myself to do it.

Sitting at that table, a plate of food in front of him, is Renit. Upon seeing my raised brow, he flashes me a smile of apology. "I couldn't wait," he confesses. His eyes drift to the robe only for a second, to the revealing fabric, but he's more focused on filling his stomach with meat, potatoes, and a heaping side of vegetables that appear more like the food of the castle rather than an inn in Lona. I didn't think the city had this potential.

"The bathing room is yours," I say with a sigh. Renit pushes my plate over to the other side of the table and urges for me to sit down and eat.

Renit, compared to me, has kept himself mostly clean over these weeks. Whether the banished prince is too good at being a member of royalty or my power prohibits cleanliness, I can't say for certain. But he's clean at all points in the day, smells clean, and can manicure his hair without trouble. I wonder how he does it, yet I know I won't receive an answer if I ask.

He sidesteps my comment and says, "You need to eat. After that, you need to sleep. And after that, we'll talk to Luna, but that won't be until tomorrow morning. Citlali made that very clear."

"You are not my assistant, foolish prince. I know my schedule."

Renit slows his chewing around a bite of meat and watches me from across the table. Crap. I press my hand to my forehead in a foolish attempt to rub the memory from my brow. "Sorry, I'm just...flustered."

"Cranky is a better word for it," Renit mocks. I kick his shin underneath the table and he smirks around a full cheek of meat and vegetables after he shoveled those in, too. A breath of silence. Then, "Is there anything you wish to discuss?"

I shake my head. "The only thing I wish to discuss is why I have such a headache." To avoid his looming stare searching over my features and after a moment, pinned on the tattoo peeking out from the lapels of the robe, I cut into the meat on my plate and salivate at the juices running through it. "And not just now," I continue as I take a bite. "But why I have a headache all the time."

Renit watches my fork when I wave it through the air. "Stress can have that effect." He treads carefully with his words. "Sleep helps, as does food and a...distraction of some sort."

"There is plenty happening in Lona that can serve as a distraction." I don't finish my point, nor do I have to.

Renit chooses to avoid speaking. For a while, I'm glad for it until he finishes his meal and pushes his plate towards the middle of the table. On his way to the bathing room, he stops to kiss the top of my head and brush his fingers against my neck, enough to send a shiver up my spine at the touch.

I can't stop the impending thought of his father's fingers on my neck, sweeping the hair out of the way so he could administer the potion without trouble. My knuckles turn white around the fork I hold but Renit doesn't notice as the door is already shut and by the sounds of it, he's undressing. His clothes thud to the floor and running water fills the porcelain tub a second later. I debate going in there and creating a distraction of my own, but my empty stomach decides against it. Not now.

Is there ever going to be the perfect time? If I keep searching for perfect, I'll end up with nothing and Renit will be left out to dry. Going through the motions of my thoughts, considering every little detail, I finish what I can of my meal without making myself sick. By that time, the tub water is sloshing around Renit's body, a sign he's scrubbing himself clean, and I shift my weight to one hip and stare out the window.

Resting my side against the stone wall, I watch the life of Lona through the open window panes. Although the street is mostly empty, wagons and carriages carrying people of all sorts—lords and ladies, guards, the richest Lona has to offer—there is life throughout this city. We're towards the decent sector, there's no telling where Citlali has gone, but we're safe where we are.

The sky, caught between day and night, is painted a bright shade of red through the twisted, cotton-thin clouds in the distance. Lona stretches on far beyond my eye can see, into the distance and cascades up a hill that spreads the streets taller and wider than they are on this level.

Renit's thumping around in the bathing room turns to him pulling on his pants, and then, silence as he likely stops in front of the mirror to style his dark hair and prepare himself to face my wrath once more. I have something else in mind.

Celestine's death hangs over me like a shadow, but that doesn't stop me from trailing him when he appears out of the bathing room and sits on the edge of the bed to pull socks over his feet. He wears only a dark pair of pants—no weapons, no belt, no blockade that I have to fight through to reach him. Just Renit, as simple as he has ever been.

"Feeling better?" He asks. I stand in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest, and watch as he fishes through his satchel to find the spare pair of socks he brought with him. I can't find the words, I don't need to, and Renit tilts his head, studying every inch of my strained face.

The smart thing to do would be to express everything I'm feeling; the hollowness inside. That's what he wants, at least. Renit wants to cast those inner demons aside for me, so I'm not facing them alone, but there is more than one way he can help me.

I step forward to stand between his legs and take his face in my hands. We've stood in this position before, numerous times, and it seemed to be the only way we could express ourselves through discovering that we didn't need our powers—we needed each other. Renit's breath hitches in his chest as my nose grazes his and my fingers thread into his hair to pull him closer to me, to bring him the final distance to have his lips against mine.

The first kiss is soft and gentle, and it sends a spark through me, but Renit pulls away. "Roux, you need to get some sleep," he says hoarsely. "It'll help."

"You said a distraction helps too," I whisper, gathering my courage.

"No—not here, I want it to be perfect and—"

"There's never going to be a perfect time, Renit." I brace my palms against his chest and lean back to view his face fully. "We'll never find a perfect time for anything, at least not in the near future. We must stop looking for the impossible."

His heart beats rapidly underneath my hand, a feat for a man of over three hundred years old. I bite back the mocking grin I so desperately want him to see and lean into him again, draping my arms over his shoulders in the most delicate way possible. This time, Renit doesn't resist. He doesn't move out of my touch and he doesn't urge me that the bed has better purposes than what I'm trying to receive.

"Are you certain?" Renit breathes against my lips. "If you're not ready..." His voice trails off as if that thought alone takes away his ability to speak.

"It's you." I kiss him once. "It'll always be you."

He ignores the fact that I didn't answer his question, but if I wasn't ready, I wouldn't be attempting this. I wouldn't kiss him the way I am now and his hands wouldn't slide around my waist, only to drift lower and hoist me into his lap. The silk robe is the only thing separating us and Renit's hands move over the smooth, cold fabric without a hitch.

I press my palms against his chest to ease him down against the bed, never once breaking our contact. Renit takes me with him and I can hardly think, my mind already in a daze when I pull away to view the handsome face beneath me. My hand braces against the bed next to his head, the other flat against his chest.

His whisper of "I need you," is a rush of words before he leans up, taking his head off the bed to claim my lips against his. Renit's sharp inhale unhinges something in my chest, something that has locked itself tight, and I kiss down his jaw, towards his ear as he unties the knot around my waist in one swift motion.

Cold air from the open window caresses my shoulders and Renit throws the robe away, his hands immediately tracing over my ribs. When I kiss him again, a growl rumbles in his throat and his steady hands tighten onto my sides, flipping our positions in one smooth motion. The back of my head presses against the bed, where he was a second ago, and I lock my legs around his hips, reaching for the hem of his pants.

Renit snatches my hand and chuckles. That deep rumble settles within my core. "Not yet," he whispers. His eyes lock with mine and for a second, barely the fraction of a breath, they drift lower to my completely bare body wrapped around his.

Words won't convey what Renit wants. Instead, he allows his lips to do the talking and starts at my neck, kissing his way down with careful efficiency. Not a slit of skin is missed for he pays attention to every inch, sending chills over my entire body as he spreads warmth down, down my stomach, over my chest, and stops at my navel, where the most careful and intimate kiss lingers.

He raises his glistening silver eyes to meet mine and my entire body shudders, my soul quaking, and when Renit lowers his lips to my body again, I tip my head back, closing my eyes and threading my tattooed fingers into his hair. I slip farther than I've ever dared and Renit, the witch I love, is there to catch me in the end.