"What's wrong?" Silas's hands slacken around mine, but he doesn't pull away completely. His brows draw in when he studies my face to ensure he's seeing what's before him.

My best smile is not nearly as convincing as I'd like it to be. It's forced, faked, and I strain to keep it on my face when my bottom lip quivers and tears sting my eyes. But with my hand in Silas's, I can't tear them away. He'll be doing that once I reveal the truth and this slight bit of comfort is all I have left of him.

It's not fair. None of this is fair.

Since I saw Silas last, the brief time it took for Renit to find him a residence and for me to tell Dalis that Mills is dead, the crown prince has pulled back his hair behind his head. Two chestnut strands hang like ribbons in front of his face, barely grazing his brow and dropping, curling against his cheekbones and stopping near his jaw.

The shirt he wears is clean; torn around the hem, but clean. His trousers are the same, and whether he took a bath or simply scrubbed his face, the dirt from the castle and these past days is gone. He's as much Silas as he can be at this moment, and for a second, that smile is restored. He even attempts to give my hand a playful squeeze to restore that smile to my face.

Both of us sit in the same position as we face each other. Legs crossed, arms resting against our knees and hands in the small slit of space between our bodies. His grey eyes track the tear that falls down my cheek when I look at him, possibly for the last time in complete, restored happiness. Things come back to me still, things I did but never wanted to do. I can't wait any longer to reveal to Silas what he did.

I turn my head in Renit's direction, where he stands against the counter, and ask, "Can you give us a minute? I'd like to speak to Silas alone."

Renit hesitates for a moment but the heels of his leather boots click along the wooden floorboards and he stops in the doorway, turning back to me. "I'll be outside if you need me."

The page in front of us, the open book spread out for Silas to read, is what I look at. I don't want to look at Silas; I don't want to look at Renit; I don't want to think of Celestine's face as I reveal this to him.

Silas is holding his breath, now scared. I made Renit leave. He's taking that as the worst possible sign.

Blowing out a breath through puffed cheeks, I roll my neck and shake off the nerves. "Okay," I begin with a sigh, sniffling away the tears. "I can do this. I can do this."

After telling Dalis about Mills, I'm most certain I can't do this, but I'll have totry to get through it without crying. This is worse by many accounts, Celestine is my sister and I'm sitting here, holding the hands that shoved the dagger into her heart. The blood is gone, but it's forever stained against his skin.

"What's wrong?" Silas asks again, quieter this time.

"I need to tell you something very important." My voice croaks and his grip tightens on my right hand, directly over the tattoo on the back. He hasn't mentioned it; I don't remember him saying anything about it when I got back to the castle after the war, but maybe that's another memory that'll pop into my head when I'm cleaning a fish, chopping vegetables, or completing another random task that forces my mind to wander.

That's when the memories come to me. When I least expect them. They jump at the chance to swallow me whole, and by then, it's too late for me to fight against the dread that comes along with them. Half the time, it's the face of someone I killed or me washing blood off my hands in a shallow pail of water.

"Do you remember many of the things your father told you to do?" I ask carefully.

Silas considers for a moment. "I remember...some things."

I ease into what I will say next with a nod. "Do you remember him telling you to attack Arego and why he told you to do it?"

He furrows his brows and looks away from my face, turning to look at the floors. He's searching so far into his mind that I wonder if the memories would've come back at all or if he was too far gone in that dark place that they were stuffed away, never to be seen again. After we found his chambers in the condition they were in, I can see it to be possible.

"I...faintly remember something, yes." He nods his head warily. "Although I don't remember why." That quick, playful pout of his lips is more of the crown prince than I've seen over these four days.

"He ordered you to come here because we had a descendant of the original witch's power. Remember? You sent Celestine and Dalis to find one?" I nod at the same time he does.

Just what I wasn't wanting, Silas's eyes brighten with recognition. "Where is Celestine? I haven't seen her yet, and I wanted to speak with her about her journey to Lona. It's the first time she was anywhere other—"

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Just a moment," I interrupt, attempting to keep my voice from completely falling over the edge of insanity. "Do you...do you remember telling Celestine and Dalis to do that?"

"That I do remember. Although they never came back to the castle, I assume they found you first."

It's like I'm speaking to a child. He has no recognition for what I'm about to tell him and yet, through that uncertainty, he's not scared. The king didn't rip away his childlike innocence, if anything, he furthered it to the point Silas isn't able to hang onto anything else. That wonderment inside his heart is possibly the only thing keeping him from crumbling entirely.

"They did find us first," I confirm, squeezing his hand. "They came back to Arego, and they healed me once Binx got me out of the castle. The thing with that was...Celestine inherited the original witch's power. She took it for herself and swapped her garden power."

Silas's brows furrow. "Celestine loves her power, why would she trade it?" He cocks his head to the side, just barely.

"She did it to save me. And it was the biggest sacrifice she has ever made in her life." I try easing into it, try to keep my voice from cracking, but a sob breaks loose from my throat and I can't hold it in anymore.

Silas wipes a tear off my cheek, the rough texture of his skin brushing against my own. I flinch against it, not out of fear of Silas, but I'm angered at my own emotions going against me. Celestine is dead, she hasn't walked this world for a while, but I can't bring myself to overcome it. Everything hurts.

"The reason why I'm telling you this," I say around a sniffle, "is that Celestine...Celestine is dead, Silas. She's dead."

I lick a salted tear away from my lips and raise my eyes to his. He's not blinking, not moving, not breathing, as he stares at me with wide grey eyes. His hands slip through mine and he leans back, resting those shaking palms on his knees. The color drains from his face faster than I'm able to detect, and the crown prince sitting before me doesn't know what to say.

His face contorts into confusion. "What? How? Did...was it the power? Was it too strong?" For my sake, he doesn't reach for my hand again.

"No," I respond. My head spins when I shake it. "Celestine was killedthe night Arego was attacked. You arrived with the king's soldiers, and I don't know if you remember, but you tried to kill me with your father's power. You inherited it from him, correct? By using your own?"

As if it hits him like a slap to the face, Silas blinks himself back to reality. "I remember," he mumbles. His voice trails off the edge of uncertainty but he looks at me, that question lingering in his eyes.

There's no point in stopping now and delaying the inevitable. I don't want to wait for him to figure out the truth in the next few minutes. "Silas, when I saw you, you said something about completing what you came for. Once you left, parting for the castle, I went searching for Celestine. I found her on the cliff sides with your dagger through her heart. She was already dead by the time I got there."

Silas's eyes bore into my own. For a moment, I wonder if he will ask if I'm joking or not. His lips are parted to speak, but no words come out. I stole the very breath from his lungs and ripped his tongue out without drawing blood or reaching into his chest to do it. As if he's completely frozen in that spot, Silas doesn't move.

"Are you...are you saying that I killed her?" His voice is a squeak.

My fingers roll over the seam in my trousers. "I'm not saying you killed her. I'm saying that we found your dagger within her chest and we're assuming, well, we believe that you're the one who did it. We could...change that if you remember the truth."

"She's not...Celestine's dead?" His face scrunches up in shock. "There's no way, I mean, I can't—" A crushed whimper sounds from his throat, and I can already see the beginning of his panic.

"Silas," I plead, gripping onto his one hand and taking it between my own. I hold on tight enough so he can't rip it away. "Silas, I just need you to think."

Although the steady pace of his breathing has altered and his chest is rising and falling in shaken rasps, Silas forces himself to focus. He squeezes his eyes shut to access his thoughts without thinking about what's before him—the tears down my cheeks, the shaking of my breath, the truth to my words.

She's dead. I can show him the grave.

It takes a moment, and that moment feels like hours, but Silas finally opens his eyes. They're silver-lined with tears. He drags a hand down the bottom half of his face. His entire body shakes and I know he has come to the conclusion.

"It's all right," I promise him. "I don't blame you."

"I killed her," he whimpers. He stutters, waving his hand about wildly at his side as he turns to me. The words are gone, twisted underneath his tongue. "I'm so sorry, Roux, I didn't—"

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the insides of my knees, and bring his hand to the space between us. My hands are gripping so tight onto his that they've gone numb, my arms are tingling, and I can't breathe. I'm so tired.

"Your father did this," I say. "Not you. Not for a second of the rest of my life will I blame you."

Although his hair is pulled behind his head and tied so tightly that he can't run his fingers through is, Silas tries anyway. "I killed her," he reiterates, tasting the words. "I killed Celestine."

There is nothing else for me to say. Silas has figured it out. As his face crumples into despair, he places a hand against his mouth and I shift to my knees, scooting towards him to drape my arms around his neck and pull him in against me. We cry together, his body shaking uncontrollably. I try to remain strong for there isn't a shred of that anywhere else in this residence.

Once he's done crying and I can't stand to shed any more tears, Silas declares he's tired and must head back to his residence, wherever that is. I don't say anything, I sit back on my heels and wipe at my nose as he leaves. Once he gets to the door, he looks back at me, his hand on the knob, but stops.

Guilt hangs over his head and it's a weight he'll never remove, but I don't blame him. And he knows that. So Silas doesn't bother with further words as he opens the door to the residence, hardly giving him the space to pass through as if he doesn't deserve it, and leaves Renit in his place.

I wipe at my nose as Renit comes over, kneels down in front of me, and takes my chin in his hand. "You did it," he whispers. "You told them."

Sadness resides in his eyes when he looks at me. "I feel like a damp rag that has been wrung dry," I say. "I just...I want this to be over." To visibly express that, I shake my hands out at my sides.

Renit sweeps me into his arms, taking me off the floor and carries me to the lukewarm tub of water hidden from the windows and the door. We don't have a bathing chamber, but this works just as well to place in a dark corner. Knowing exactly what I need, Renit pulls the curtains over the windows and locks the door so no one can disrupt us.

He helps me remove my clothes and sits at the side of the tub as I wash, even going so far as to scrub my hair for me when my arms are too tired to rise. He still hasn't slept, and I'm tempted to tell him to, but Renit will shoot me down and promise he can wait until the sun sets. We're a few hours off, an orange hue is hanging over the cliff sides so it won't be long before we're bathed in darkness.

I seek false security in tugging my knees against my chest and resting my cheek against them. "How did he look?" I ask.

Renit's hand continues to stroke down the column of my spine, up and down, up and down. He purses his lips. "He looked like he received terrible news."

"Obviously." I scoff. "Did he appear stable, like he would make it through the night without...jumping off the cliff sides in despair?"

"Silas may be lost within his mind, but he wouldn't go that far. You'd be surprised how great his passion for life is. No matter what, he'll never see giving up as an answer." His hand moves to the back of my neck and massages my sore muscles. I close my eyes and feel the sting of tears and fatigue. I have cried enough, but sleep has been too far between my regular schedule.

It occurs to me that Renit being over three hundred years old has given him plenty of time to avoid sleeping. He doesn't require full nights of rest, not after living the life of a mortal and then realizing there were better things to do with his time. That's why he's not tired now, he'll sleep when he gets the chance, and if he doesn't, the time will come eventually.

"What if this breaks him?" I ask quietly. "What if he doesn't see a way out from the guilt he's facing?"

"For a long time, I didn't see a way out either." Renit's words are simple, but I open my eyes to view his face. The water is now cold against my naked body, but instead of staring at what is before him, Renit's eyes lock onto mine. I think I spot weakness in his stare, but it's gone before I can catch it. Maybe I'm getting used to the calm demeanor he carries with him.

His fingers move to my shoulders, grazing over my collarbones, and work through the stiff muscles there, too. My back still aches every so often from slamming into the stairs in Silas's tower. "What helped you change your mind?"

Renit is quick with his answer. "You."

I can't keep down the smile on my lips, it creeps up like the summer's dawn. Unstoppable and inevitable. "In short, you're saying Silas needs someone to help him through this. Someone he cares greatly for."

The banished prince sitting before me, handsome and strong as ever, shrugs. "We both know that person is Avalie, but we failed to bring her back." Silence. Then, "Do you think we made a mistake by not finding her?"

"We had limits to our mission, and Avalie wasn't on my mind until Silas mentioned her. I figured she would've gotten out of the castle, but if Hallie is siding with the king, it's possible she alerted him to their relationship together. There are many places she can be, all too dangerous for us to look. Either she comes to us, or we don't find her at all," I reprimand.

Renit would be the first witch to agree. Among others that aren't in the room. The last would be Silas, he needs Avalie more than anything, and I reconsider Binx going back into the castle to clamp a titanium band around the king's wrist. No, it's too risky. He might get killed, and a witch of illusion is a valuable asset amongst our forces. More and more mortal witches are showing up, but their powers don't contest in comparison to those of immortal strengths.

There are a few immortals outrunning the king to avoid his army. Word is spreading of their leader's plan and they're using Arego as a refugee village once more, rather than just a rebel base. The rebel base, there are no others in Esaria.

"Have you eaten?" Renit asks quietly.

When I shake my head, he stands from his kneeling position and offers up his hand to me. I take it, and although it isn't necessary, Renit helps me step out. He wraps the towel around my shoulders but I step onto my toes, encasing him in an unexpected kiss.

"Food can wait," I whisper, dropping the towel back down to the wooden floorboards.

Every time we share these moments, Renit objects and focuses on something else. He wants me to sleep, to eat, but what he doesn't realize is that he makes me feel a different sort of calm. Gives me a glory that a full stomach or a night's rest can't achieve. To my surprise, he doesn't hesitate. He takes my face in his hands, kissing me desperately without a second thought. I unlocked what he wanted, too.

After our long journey of rescuing Silas, running away from our enemies, and bringing him back here to talk of death and our next step, the first thing Renit and I need, besides food and sleep, is relief. A distraction from the carnage taking place outside our door.

I arch into him a bit more than I already have; a needy noise coming out of Renit's lips. He hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, tipping my head back as far as I can once Renit nudges my jaw with his nose. He carries me to the wall, closer than the bed, and the stone seeps into my bare back, cold and rough against my skin.

The want for him will never stop, not as long as the Grounding bond is tight within our chests. It calls out for him, most of the time for more than Renit's power, and I can't resist the urges. Since we haven't had a private place in too many days, I have avoided these desires. We're home now and the door is locked. The room is darkening underneath the shadowed curtains and we're alone.

I force his lips back to mine, giving him a savage kiss meant to undo him. It does; he tightens his grip on my thighs and with a single, slow thrust, pushes himself in. My moan rocks through both of us, and Renit gives me a brief second to adjust.

His kiss turns desperate and I melt in his arms. Through the ecstasy in my mind, I realize I won't ever tire of this. The longing to always have him with me, whether in these moments or simply standing at my side. The hitch in his breath, the low groan against my throat, his teeth dragging along my earlobe—

Renit's hips move in a slow, lazy pace and I drag my fingers into his hair, placing the back of my head ever so gently against the stone wall behind me. He kisses down the column of my throat and spreads chills over my skin.

It doesn't take long for both of us to come completely undone. We unravel like spools of silk thread and I rest my cheek against his shoulder, his hot breath coming fast against my neck. No, I won't ever tire of this, not when we're done with this rebellion and definitely not now.