The door to the cottage I've been staying in is brand new. I don't remember who used to live here before. When I searched through their belongings, I found nothing spectacular or memorable, but the entire second floor is gone. The front door was burnt to a crisp, the iron bars in the windows had a rusted char, and debris of all shapes and sizes covered the first floor.

I don't know why I picked this cottage out of all the others in the village. It's far enough away from my old home that I'm not staring at it all the time, but close enough to everyone else that I can keep an eye on them. It's closer to the cliffsides and what the rebels call their headquarters—a cottage left untouched that night. Now it's just an empty room that rebels stand around in during meetings.

As I walk into the cottage, greeted by that front door and the smell of stew, I run my fingers over the smoothness of the wood. For being a prince that's had everything done for him during his life, Renit isn't a stranger to beautifying what was a simple piece of wood. He attached hinges, a handle, and smoothed the wood so not a single splinter lodges into my finger.

The first and only floor of the cottage is where we spend the majority of our time. Most of it is clean, the ash and debris are mostly removed except for a small heap in the corner of tattered curtains and burnt pillows. On the other side of the room and away from any windows, our bed is empty and made—unoccupied compared to the last time I was here, about an hour ago.

I expect to see Renit there, lying underneath the covers on his stomach, but he's standing in the kitchen over the flaming stove. In a small pot barely big enough to cook a meal for two, he stirs the contents of the stew. His disheveled hair and slow movements tell me he just woke up, if he hasn't been awake since I left early this morning to clear my head.

At the sight of me approaching, he smiles weakly and jerks his chin over to two bowls sitting on the counter. I pick them up for him, taking them over to where he stands, and with even slower movements than those I've seen him make when he's tired, he dumps a spoonful into the bowls.

This reminds me enough of meals with my family that I flinch with recognition upon setting the bowls onto the small, circular table near the kitchen. We needed nothing bigger than what will fit both of us, and the occasional visit from Celestine who is currently living in a cottage down the street with Citlali and Dalis.

We went from sleeping in the same room to sleeping on opposite sides of the castle to not sleeping in the same building at all. Bren is right; we've matured. And in more ways than he realizes.

"Are you feeling better?" Renit asks as he sits down in the chair next to mine.

I shrug and display as much normalcy as I can. Shoving the carrots aside, I earn myself a frown, but Renit scoops them out for himself. "A little."

Renit is scowling before I can finish my statement. "Bren can't seem to let you get through this by yourself, can he?" He hunches over his bowl of stew and like he hasn't eaten in days, takes quick bites—one right after the other. Meals come about differently when Mills isn't here to make them for us. We haven't heard a word about the castle and whether people like him are still alive. For Dalis's sake, we must have hope.

"He's only trying to help. When we grew up, we went through things like this and we were always there for each other. If I truly wanted him to back off, then I'd tell him," I reason. Still, Renit shakes his head and shows the stew exactly how he's feeling with one nasty expression after the other. "You two need to stop hating each other. Your male arrogance is getting in the way of my sanity."

Renit frowns at me and nudges my knee with his own. Spitfire is on the tip of his tongue.

"Well, he keeps pushing you to feel better. Healing doesn't come about that easily," Renit goes on.

Out of everyone in this entire rebel community, Renit is aware of that the most. He's dealt with his father's insanity for hundreds of years and it took him decades to figure out his way back to a happy life. After Darlene and Oisin, he was falling and couldn't find his way back to securely stand. What I'm experiencing is a shred of what he went through.

I desperately want to reach over and run my fingers over his cheek, silently telling him I know exactly what he meant. Renit doesn't have to say it outright, the true statement hides underneath his words in the fact that healing doesn't come easily. It wasn't easy for him, and he'll understand if that same happens to me. Luckily, he doesn't push.

Our touches have been few and far in-between. I love Renit and my distance is not a direct result of anything he's doing, but I haven't found myself in that mindset yet. I'm not opposed to basking in his warmth during the night, resting my head on his chest to hear the beat there, but my soul is not ready to go any further.

He's soft with his kisses and his touches, for he knows I'm not completely ready for them and if I was, Renit wouldn't change his ways. I still find myself weak in the knees upon his contact, but I won't prepare for anything further—not soon. For now, we relish in the fact that the other is still alive and unharmed.

"How—how long do you think it should take?" I ask softly. I swirl the contents of the stew with my spoon and avoid Renit's eye when he studies my face and waits, like the proper teacher, to have my full attention.

Ever the resilient prince, he allows me to cowardly avoid the matter at hand. "As long as you need," he responds simply. "There's no timetable for someone going through something like this; sometimes it can take days, weeks, months. Whenever you're ready, you'll know."

When the stew becomes more enthralling than his words, Renit presses a finger underneath my chin and forces me to look up at him. He chews slowly, not a hint of emotion in his eyes while he waits for me to speak. With Bren, he asks me outright what I need to do to fix myself. Renit moves in different patterns; silent touches and longing stares.

His voice is deathly soft when he speaks. "You take as long as you need, all right? What my father did to you is not for the faint of heart. More than anyone, you have the right to turn this into a lengthy process."

I sigh through my nose, lost in the trance of his glistening silver eyes. I'll never tire of his handsome face, how it's slowly turned more and more gentle over the months. And those eyes, they're everything he embodies from the storm to the prince to the witch I fell in love with after so much hell. He's had everything taken away from him, and I was nearly on that list, too, if it wasn't for Binx and people I consider being my friends. Renit is alive; he's breathing, and he's sitting right in front of me. How could I want anything else?

"What about...what about us?" I inquire numbly. His touch falls away. "Don't you want to go further than—"

Before I can finish, he's already shaking his head. "I don't care about that." There's a hint of annoyance in his tone. "That's the last thing I care about right now. All I want is for you to feel better."

I lean back in my chair. Watching him return his attention to the nearly empty bowl of stew and clump of carrots towards the bottom, I smirk. "You are tempting, though, I must admit."

Renit snorts and through the faintest bit of red on his cheeks, I nearly gape at the sight of him blushing. But before I can comment on it and get myself in trouble for mentioning it in the first place, it's gone, and he chews the last bite of stew around a grin, mainly carrots, and gathers both bowls. "Trust me, spitfire, I can say the same for you." He offers me a pointed look and now I'm the one blushing into my lap so he doesn't see.

When he comes back towards the table, he takes my hand in his and pulls me to a standing position. The Grounding bond warms my soul and I lean into it in hopes of savoring more than allowed. I smell rain, and when I close my eyes, thunder rumbles in my chest and lightning skitters across my skin with his touch. It's similar to the feel of the reserve, one I didn't realize I had until the battle against Saebia. How I didn't recognize the king's control then, I'll never know. Having Renit's power should've been answer enough.

"We have plenty looming ahead of us," Renit reminds me before pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. I close my eyes once more. "And I don't just mean what's happening with you and me; we have a king to kill, too. Must I say more about you taking your time or are we settled?"

I shake my head. When I wrap my arms around his waist, again staring up at those silver eyes as his warm storm wraps around the entirety of us, I say, "We have time." As much as I don't believe it, Renit makes me feel things I don't think are true. "We'll figure it out."

Renit leans down and presses his lips against mine in a featherlight touch. I don't receive the opportunity to savor in it, for he's pulling away and resting his chin against the top of my head. His arms slide around my shoulders and hold tight.

Whether through the banished prince himself or the Grounding bond, my nerves begin to soothe. The dread that's constantly pooling in my stomach disappears in his presence and I breathe in as much as I can. We have time, yes, but I'm not afraid to admit that all time, every life, is limited. I only hope that Renit's end will not come before my own.