A few minutes after the silence has settled between us, leaving only the wind and the ocean to speak volumes in what words cannot do, Bren pulls something from his pocket. From the sound of it, I know it's a piece of parchment he's unfolding onto the ground before him.

I watch silently while Bren smooths out the edges and creases towards the middle. He had folded it into a square—one corner is ripped but the others appear to be mostly intact. The wind pricks at the edges and searches for what the paper holds, but it's blank.

"What are you doing?" I question.

Bren continues to smooth out the edges. "You said you haven't felt like yourself lately. And that's fine; we understand what you're going through is difficult but I will not sit by and watch as you struggle."

I put my head in my hands and groan into my palms. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere; Bren is changing direction quicker than I'd like.

"Bren, you promised." My tone is more of a groan than anything else.

He turns, already laughing. "You don't even know what I'm doing. Don't be so opposed to a piece of paper." From his pocket, he pulls out a piece of charcoal sharpened to the tip and hands it over to me, along with that parchment.

"I don't have to make a list, do I?" Plastering on a smirk that will diminish any argument we might have, he shakes his head and taps his finger on the corner of the parchment.

"I've seen people go through what you're dealing with. Something that helped was reminding them of something they used to enjoy doing. Now—I don't know how much you've drawn since being, you know, kidnapped, but I think it's time you start up again." He shrugs and exposes his palms in innocence.

This is the first time in a long while I haven't seen him strapped head to toe with weapons. The Bren I knew growing up hardly carried anything other than a knife at his hip just in case he needed to cut rope or fillet a fish. Otherwise, he never used the knives. Once he joined the rebels, the weapons started to weigh him down to the point he appeared to be an assassin in regular clothing. And one that isn't afraid to show his face.

He came out here today and planned to do this. Not carrying any weapons is a reminder of the past, and he's trying to help by providing any bit of normalcy. How did I not notice it before? Bren is doing whatever he can to help, and now that I think about it, he's done this on over one occasion.

I look down at the piece of parchment. I haven't drawn in forever. During those months at the castle and beyond, I only had a few urges to draw something but stopped myself when I remembered I wouldn't be able to show my parents and have them appreciate what I'd done. The sinking feeling in my heart kept me from branching out and remembering the things I used to love doing.

Losing them, struggling with my power, trying to understand Renit—everything kept me from reminding myself of the past. When Renit and I finally decided to be happy together, I had the smallest urge to create something, but that had quickly disappeared and I haven't thought about it since.

As I trace the edges of that parchment, the piece of coal positioned between my fingers, I search for any inspiration inside my soul but find nothing. I've met so many new people since the prince stormed Arego that night, but I don't want to draw any of them. Not even Renit. Like everything else, I tell myself I'll put it off until later.

Shaking my head, I fold the piece of parchment back into a square. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any desire to do that," I mutter.

Bren's mouth quirks to the side in disappointment when he takes back the parchment and charcoal. They look foreign in his grasp, like he doesn't know what to do with them, so he shoves them both into his pocket and forgets quickly. They were ever exposed.

"That's fine," he reassures. "You might not feel ready for a while, or you could feel ready tomorrow. Don't rush yourself." The unspoken truth is laced within his words. We have time.

But how much time? Do we actually have any time at all or is that phrase simply thrown around so we'll feel better about our chances? Renit has said it, Bren does, too, and so many other rebels I've come in contact with keep saying we have time. There's no way we have as much time as they believe.

"So much has changed." I scan the horizon. "I don't think I'll ever go back to the person I once was. Too much has happened to alter the past. Part of me doesn't remember who I used to be when everything was so simple."

"Chaos changes things." Bren's voice carries over to me from behind; he's leaning back on his hands again. I twitch with relief at the thought of him not questioning me any further. "It's possible you've changed, too. We all have. Even Celestine. Half the time, I don't know who she is anymore."

The snort of laughter through my nose comes easy this time. "That's because she has the power of an original witch."

"It's not just that," Bren counters. "Since you two were taken, you've changed. Both of you are more mature, you've seen the world and you don't like what's in it and you're offering your help to change that and better the kingdom."

Leaning back on my elbows, I look up at him. Faint freckles cover the tan skin on his broad nose. The sun crests gold edging around his orange hair. "I can say the same for you, rebel leader."

He tips his head back and laughs. "For the last time, I'm not a rebel leader."

I bite down on my smirk and squint out to the ocean beyond. I should get back to the village soon, Renit will wonder where I've been. If he's still sleeping, I can crawl into bed and huddle against his warmth.

"Whatever you say," I mock. "When the rebels start calling you sir, I'll know where you stand."

Bren crinkles his nose. "They already call me sir. Is that bad?"

I laugh through my teeth and nod. "You're a rebel leader, whether you realize it or not."

My childhood friend blossoms into the Bren I once knew. He tips his head back, rolling his neck back and forth, and squints at the warmth leaking into the sky. With a sigh that concludes the end of our mocking, he changes the subject. "Here's to a better future. Let's change this kingdom for the better."

I nod, but the only thing I can think of is whether I'll survive long enough to witness that change for myself.