As soon as we arrive to the confines of Arego, untouched by the king, for now, we're met by embraces and smiling faces. They result from who we bring with us, the crown prince. But we have no reason to smile. We force ourselves to do so when met by Takata and Maury, her shadow, along with Alaric.

They clap their hands onto our shoulders and congratulate a job well done. We did it; we rescued the crown prince. We're alive, so that must mean everything went well. If only they knew the half of it. Meanwhile, Silas silently takes in Arego with a wandering, curious eye. He studies the buildings and the people and watches them like they're ghosts he long thought to be dead, only to watch them swallow a deep thrush of breath.

I try to keep my eye on him while embracing those I've grown to consider my friends, but I find myself swept into the crowd. No one speaks to him, hardly anyone looks at him other than to cast concerned and worried glances in his direction. He's out of his element here. Without me having to reveal the condition he's in, that's already clear to the rebels.

I wonder if their distance comes from Alaric telling them not to expect much if we managed to make it out. As Silas fiddles with a piece of string in his hand, I can't thank him enough for that precautious warning. The last thing he needs is a bombardment of attention from people he has never met before and has only known through signing his name at the bottom of a relative's condolence letter.

He's...smaller in Arego. I hadn't given myself the opportunity to truly look at him over these recent days, but his father's control took all his weight, his muscle, and left him with weak bones. How quick he changed...I can only imagine his mind followed in the same footsteps; damage underneath the skin that we can't see.

We have a long road ahead of us after getting him out. In doing so, we're responsible for everything that is to come. Whether Silas wants to be part of this or not, whether he wants to crumble and become an ordinary witch, whether he wants to forget. Relying on a broken man to lead a kingdom is just as dangerous as relying on the current king to change his ways.

A familiar face pushes through the crowd, but she doesn't go to me. She doesn't go to any of the rebels that left over a week ago. Dalis rushes to Silas, throwing her arms around his neck. The embrace catches him off-guard, and he stumbles back against the force of her colliding against him. A pinch of a smile contorts his face as he pats her back, leaning down to rest his chin against her shoulder.

Dalis does the work of pulling away and holds Silas at arm's length. I'm too far away to hear what they have to say to each other, and I'm currently wrapped in an embrace of my own from Citlali, but they smile and Silas nods. I read his lips. I'm doing well.

That's a lie. I don't buy it for a second. I want Dalis to look at me so I can silently tell her that what he's speaking isn't the case. A crown prince is as good a liar as any, and if the witch of water can't see through his soft smile into the hollowness of his eyes...

Citlali breaks away from me and a squeal erupts from her when she spots Tesha. They rush at each other, embracing, and to catch everyone by surprise, Tesha kisses her with all her might. At first, Citlali leans away from it, raising her brows in shock. Just as a warm wind brushes from the coast, she throws caution to it and wraps her arms around Tesha's shoulders, kissing back just as passionately.

I like to think I had some influence on their relationship. After all, I was the one that told Tesha to go for it. Time is fleeting, and she'd be more upset if they never got together rather than losing each other in the fight.

After disappearing through the fray of greeting and laughter, Renit appears at my side from beyond two embracing men. "Alaric ordered a meeting," he whispers in my ear.

I scowl openly, and when I turn to Alaric, he's already watching me with a bored expression. He couldn't care less about me wanting to sit down for a few minutes and take a bath. So instead of pissing him off any further than I might have already, I take Renit's hand and follow him down into the cellar that once held our meat supply.

The musky stench remains, but it's masked by the royal furniture Alaric brought in here. The leather couches, dark bookshelves, the oak desk larger than my bed and covered in an array of paperwork and plans. The floor, once dirt, is covered in carpets stitched together to make one giant rug. Inner seams are fraying and tattering at the edges.

Alaric extends his arm to the sofa pressed against the back wall. "Please, take a seat," he says.

My feet are exhausted, and because of my pounding headache from trying to juggle revealing death to Dalis about Mills and Silas about Celestine, I sit. The leather is cold through my cuirass and I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back to gain my first bit of comfortable rest in days.

Across the room, Alaric pours himself a drink, hardly past the bottom rim of the glass cup, and gestures towards us with the bottle. "Drink?" he asks.

Renit and I shake our heads, although I know the witch of storm would love to have a biting drink to take his mind off exhaustion. Carrying Silas all that way is still taking its toll, and he was on guard every night to ensure we weren't being followed. I tried my best but staying awake was harder when the stars overhead were soothing and the grass resembled the comfort of a pillow.

Still strapped in armor and weapons from neck to boot, Renit leans his shoulder against the bookcase and crosses one ankle over the other. How is he still standing?

I've known Renit long enough to understand his features, but his face reveals nothing. Not a hint of exhaustion. His eyes don't droop, his head doesn't hang, and he looks ready to run a mile if that's what Alaric asks of him during this meeting. If he's ordered to kill his father, Renit might damn well do it.

Alaric sits down on the opposite sofa and drapes his arm over the backrest. For a moment, the room is silent except for the groan of the leather adjusting against his weight. He studies us, eyes roving from one witch to the other. Finally, he smiles. It's close-lipped and hardly relieved that we're alive and in his presence.

He brings the glass to his lips and that smile is hidden beneath it. "I suppose a 'job well done' is in order," he says.

The milky white of his right eye watches me, even though I know it can't. The scar running through it is deep and jagged against the side of his face. I stare at that instead of meeting his one good eye. "We're doing this for the better of the kingdom," I deadpan. "A job well done is all we're allowed to aim for."

Alaric swallows, grimacing against the strong bite that warms his chest. "I suppose you're right. Yet you managed to infiltrate a castle and retrieve a killer. That is not an ordinary day for anyone, not even a soldier. Not even an assassin."

My mind, lingering on that one word, speaks for me. "Silas is not a killer. If you're implying that he is; the same honor must go to me, Renit, and yourself. Then again, Silas did those things because he had no other choice but to."

"There are ways around the king's control, I'm sure." Alaric chuckles as if what Silas and I did, occurred willingly. A muscle tightens in my jaw and I watch him through lowered brows.

I crane my neck to view Renit. Our eyes meet. "It's a shame we didn't grab a vial of that potion. I'd love to see Alaric fight against his own body."

Renit's eyes blaze with lightning. He nods with a 'hmm' and says, "We ought to go back and grab some. Chain him against a wall and see how well he does."

When I smile at Alaric, rolling my ankle repeatedly from where it dangles in the air, he doesn't return the same expression. The drink in his hand is quickly forgotten once he realizes just how quickly this rebellion can turn against him, and if he's not careful, how hasty we'll be to throw him over the cliff sides.

"Tell me, was it swift?" Alaric asks.

I cock my head to the side. "Was what swift?"

"Celestine's death. Was it swift? Or did the crown prince take his time?" He looks to Renit, chuckling. "I didn't exactly receive the chance to examine her body before you buried her."

My power slips loose off its leash and the entire building rumbles. I don't have to look at Renit for confirmation to know my veins are glowing red, my eyes the same. Alaric's stunned look is enough evidence that he's outside his element. When dust and small pebbles fall from the ceiling above our heads, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Citlali isn't here to slap me this time, and Renit doesn't attempt stopping me. I allow myself to glow as bright as my power will allow until it shuts off, and with a cough, a puff of dust leaves the back of my throat. My smile conceals more than daggers when I offer it to the witch sitting on the opposite sofa.

"Now then," I sigh. "We brought back the crown prince. He's on our side now. You're welcome."

No more games. No more jabs. Alaric speaks through his teeth. "I chose the right rebels for the job, didn't I?'

"I suppose you did," I purr.

"We need to decide what to do next. The next part of the plan is to take the king down the easy way, correct? The castle's destruction through that fiery power of ground is one way to do it."

"The fault of you not being there to help us is not only in that we could've used your help, but plans change when you're not there to stop them." I continue rolling my ankle until Alaric appears ready to burst at the popping of the joint. The bounce of it appears over the low table between us. The only barricade from us going after each other.

He stares at me down the bridge of his nose. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we're not taking down the castle. We're going to do this a different way," I say with a shrug. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Renit nodding in confirmation.

He doesn't do it for his own sake; he's nodding since Alaric can't take me seriously. Only when Renit is in the room, agreeing to my points, does he straighten up and listen. I sneer, visibly growling to show the animalistic side given to me by the blood of a witch, but Alaric doesn't balk. Outnumbered is an understatement.

Alaric waves his hand at me. "Fine, elaborate."

"There's a witch inside the castle that may be of great assistance to our operation>" I examine my nails out of boredom and frown. They're cracked and malformed after running through the woods and not taking a bath for days.

"Why isn't this witch here? Surely, you had enough time to get them out of the castle while you were rescuing the crown prince."

I laugh outright. Renit's low snarl is the first sign of emotion he has shown since we walked in the room, and one more jab at a job he did well might make the banished prince snap Alaric's neck. The sound of bones cracking isn't my forte, but something about the smug look on Alaric's face makes me want to do it myself. He doesn't deserve such loyal fighters if he's willing to sit in the dark and do nothing while wasting away from dizzying drinks.

I look down to the low table between us and purse my lips together. A croaking sound comes from Alaric. "Unless...you don't know if this witch is there in the first place?" he asks, forming the pieces together himself. It's his turn to laugh. "You're foolish. We're taking down the castle, that's the end of this discussion."

As he did before, I wave my hand around. He frowns at my obvious mockery. "Another fault of you not being there is that you didn't see the crown prince's chambers. He decorated well, with the blood of his enemies. You see, Silas cares so much about this witch that he was willing to choke the air from Tesha's lungs if she mentioned taking down the castle again. It'd be a pity if he did the same to you."

"No one touches my rebels," Alaric growls.

I hold up a finger and grin wickedly. "You weren't there. You don't get to make the decisions." After a split second, I further my point. "And I'm certain Tesha can take care of herself."

Alaric's stare turns cold. "Tesha isn't here without me."

I suddenly forget Renit is in the room. It's just the two of us sitting on the sofas, staring each other down, and it's not until my beloved clears his throat that I remember there's another presence in the room. Possibly the only presence in the world that can carry me out of the hole I'm digging for myself.

He shifts his weight to the opposite hip, keeping his arms crossed, and says, "Tesha does completely fine without you. She couldn't care less about you and your rebellion. She searches for her freedom. Not yours."

As if he hasn't done enough considering, Alaric does it once again. He looks from me to Renit, then back to me. My answering smile, one of sweetness where I bat my eyelashes, doesn't faze him in the slightest. I'm exhausted, my body is weak, and I don't have time to do anything other than play games with him. Besides, it's the only thing keeping me awake.

"Getting back to this witch—" Alaric spits that like it's an insult "—why are they so important? Is it their power? Their skill to fight? Do they have great knowledge of the king's operation?"

As he's doing, I drape my arm along the backrest. Only I prop my fist against the side of my head. "Avalie Vernin is a witch of decease. A power only gifted by the underworld itself and rare—I've never met another."

Alaric blinks. I assume the paling of his face is from shock. "Is she alive?"

I shrug weakly. "That remains to be seen. The crown prince cares for her greatly, but he hasn't seen her since the king forced the potion upon him. Ever since, Princess Hallie has sided with our fearless leader to protect her position on the throne."

"She could be part of the king's army, dead, on the run, or in the dungeons," Renit says. "Her involvement and status is unclear."

How had I not understood her difficult power back then? I was underneath the king's influence, but her not wanting to touch anyone, the titanium band she wore...how did I not see it? Her power was clearly more than ice, I never saw her wield it. Then again, I hadn't cared to. A witch of ice practices messily and almost always out of control.

Avalie wasn't that. She didn't fit the witch of ice description and that comparison went directly over my head. A witch of decease, a born killer while having no desire to be one, is often silent and considered a loner amongst our kind. I never noticed Avalie before she came into Silas's life and even then, she was hard not to miss. The crown prince saw something within her, whether her power or something more, I haven't received the chance to ask.

"So we're risking our entire operation on whether or not this witch of decease is alive or not," Alaric concludes. He raises his eyebrows, lips thinning. "There's no logic behind that."

"There is when you wish to have a future king on the throne. Unless, of course, you're pleased with how things are running now," I retort.

His stare flattens to a level I didn't think possible. "Silas is not...as strong as you'd like him to be." Renit reiterates my point for me without taking the complicated tunnels to tell Alaric how broken the crown prince is. How crumbled he is on the inside and how weak he is on the outside. "It's fair to say Avalie is the only person that can bring him back to his former glory."

"Are you saying Silas Marron isn't fit to rule?" Before Renit or I have the chance to give him an answer, he pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. "We've gone this far, only to—"

"Must I remind you he is unstable?" My voice rises beyond my comprehension. "If you have no sympathy, nor care for that, you are not fit to rule this rebellion."

Alaric scoffs like I'm nothing more than a cocky witch. "You are young." He sneers. "You know nothing about ruling; I sacrificed everything to bring a better life for this kingdom."

"I may be young," I agree without a care. "But I'd never leave my fellow man to die on a battlefield while I ran off and fulfilled my life, disappearing for years."

Steam isn't coming from his nose, but it's damn close. Alaric leans forward and points a strong finger at me, mouth curling to spew an insult. Lightning dashes towards his finger, pricking the end of it, and Alaric jumps back in shock. He glares at Renit. Neither of us moves to defend or attack him.

"The crown prince is still fit to rule," I say quietly. "In a situation like this, time is required."

"We don't have time."

I brace my hands on the cushions and stand. My head spins from lack of food and my eyes grow heavy from not sleeping soundly. When I turn, finding not only Renit, but Dalis standing in the open doorway, I become even more aware of my exhaustion. She wants to know what happened. I stop in my tracks and turn on my heel to face Alaric.

"Find time. We accept no other option. Silas Marron will sit on the throne, and we'll find Avalie Vernin. Until then, sit at your desk in that dark corner, shuffle through your paperwork, and find time. I don't care what it takes."

Renit and I don't bother waiting to hear what he has to say. I push past into the open doorway and climb the stone stairs my father constructed to get down to this cellar. It still smells of dust and dry meat—my father claimed that to be one of his favorite smells. It's no wonder he spent most of his hours helping the butcher.

Out in the sunlight, the crowd welcoming our group has dispersed. I share a knowing look with Renit, and he nods. He'll find somewhere for Silas to stay.

Dalis is at my side, but she hasn't spoken yet. "Care to go with me to visit Celestine?" I ask, jerking my thumb in the direction of my sister's grave on the cliff sides.

"Of course. I haven't been there in a while; I might as well go with you."

I place a hand on the small of her back, leading her in that direction at the same time Binx comes around the corner. He slows his steps at the sight of the two of us walking together and to my surprise; he tags along. Not to visit Celestine, I realize, but to help uncover a layer of endless truths.