Food and sleep take the rest of the night. Renit and I sit at the kitchen table and stuff everything in our mouths—from bread to cheese, to fish and vegetables grown by the witches of gardens in the village. We lay out a full meal for ourselves and when we're done, our stomachs full and our eyes heavy, we climb into bed, pull blankets over our bodies, and sleep off our exhaustion.

It takes hours, until the sun rises the next morning, but I lift my head off the pillow and squint against the light cracking through the curtains. It could only contain itself for so long, but I groan and drop my head back down onto the cold, white surface. Laying on my stomach, the blankets and duvet wrap around my legs and tighten against my waist. I feel locked within an embrace.

That warm hold threatens to drag me back to sleep but I turn my head towards Renit, finding him staring at the ceiling. His hands are intertwined together over his stomach and the duvet is pulled up against his chest, hardly revealing the tattoos coursing up to his neck and halting at the base of his throat. I reach out, running my fingers along one of the black lines, but Renit doesn't move. He doesn't shift his stare to me. Sighing deeply through his nose, he closes those metallic silver eyes.

His long, dark lashes are all that's left behind.

After everything we endured to get Silas back, I expected him to sleep longer. After what we did last night, I expected even more. Yet here he is, awake before me. The chattering of voices outside the window reveals that Arego is already awake while we're barely finding the strength to open our eyes without wincing.

"Why are you awake?" I mumble, my voice rasped.

"We still have so much we need to do," Renit foretells. "We don't have nearly as many men as we need to go against him, yet we haven't discussed that. What are we to do?"

The fabric of the pillow shifts underneath his head when he turns to look at me. His dark hair is a mess after I ran my fingers through it last night. If he's awake now, it's possible he hasn't completely slept through the night in a while. Not even in the comfort of his own bed, considering this is now the mattress he spends sleeping hours on.

"We barely returned." A breath of a laugh tickles my lips. "We still have this entire morning to think about what needs to happen next."

"And after that?"

"We'll...we'll figure it out." He flattens his stare at me, lips thinning, and I roll my eyes. "You don't have to figure out everything for yourself, foolish prince. We'll discuss with Alaric what needs to happen."

At the same of Alaric's name, Renit growls underneath his breath. There's something about the commander he can't forget, whether it be that Alaric left him to die on a battlefield or he isn't being one towards his rebels. He's taking all the credit but going through none of the trials we have to face in order to make this rebellion work.

Then again, the king still doesn't know he's alive. That could be beneficial to us in the end. Somehow.

"And what if Alaric decides we don't need more forces? More immortal witches? What then?" Renit questions.

I run my thumb over the scars on the back of his hand. "We don't have to answer to everything Alaric says, you know. The rebellion lives without him; we don't require his input on everything."

"He is the commander. It wouldn't be wise to split the rebellion in half and weaken ourselves further."

I shrug to the best of my ability laying on my stomach. "The majority are wishing for action, and if we provide that to them, we'll receive what we're looking for," I say simply.

Still, Renit doesn't buy it. He shakes his head again, ruining his hair further, and bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. Nothing I say will make him feel better, my words don't have an impact on what Renit is searching for. Closure. Action. The death of his father and Silas on the throne. I can't hand him these things within my palms, and an ache in my chest results because of that.

Renit deserves the world, and I cannot give it to him.

"I'm out of ideas." He blows out his cheeks. "I don't know what I need to do to ensure we kill him." Speaking about his father's death with ease after so many years of loyal service...part of me wants to ask whether he still has a fraction of love for the man that claimed to have raised him well.

I prop my hand onto the side of my head and lay on my side, facing him. "You say we need more forces," I begin. "Where do we look for forces?"

Renit's mouth quirks to the side. "I guess his enemies are the first place to start," he says, seeming as though he might be talking to the air and not me at all. "What enemy will we find that's willing to go against him?"

"We can look within the kingdom. Lona is on his side, so that's out of the question. Flitsea isn't widespread enough, they have better things to worry about. Ducoria is filled with low lives of all different breeds of witch. They don't like their king, and if we can gather those that wish to fight, that's one option."

Renit scrunches up his nose in disgust. The last group of people he wants to deal with is the Ducorians. "Do you have any other ideas?"

Dropping my eyes to the bed, I think for a moment. My eyes linger on Renit's tattoos, how they're large and deeply designed compared to the thin marks coursing over my right side. It's clear the two different artists had visuals of their own when planning the craft. One went for remembering Renit's family, and the other chose to put thorns and vines over my skin, providing a warning that I shouldn't be touched without careful consideration.

"What about Saebia?" I blurt. Renit's stony expression doesn't change.

"You mean the losers in the war?" He turns to face me as well, propping the side of his face on his palm. "A war you fought in; I don't have to add."

I sidestep his displeasure with me fighting anywhere other than at his side. "The king of Saebia hasn't offered his official surrender. He's beaten down, yes. He lost the war, yes. But the fact that he hasn't handed over his surrender proves he's not ready to. If he still wants his kingdom..." My voice trails off.

"He might be willing to fight," Renit finishes. "It's a risk, but a risk we must take."

"We can gather soldiers from both lands, and even if we find ourselves with only a few, it's more than we had before. Being part of this...it's all about taking chances and risks. We can't wait for Alaric to accept that. If we want to change the kingdom, we do it now. We do it quickly if this is the plan we're going for. It'll take...weeks to get it done but if we're wise, if we move our base somewhere the king doesn't realize, we have a chance."

Renit studies me warily. His eyes don't shift away from my own and the silence goes on a little too long. I'm aware of the fact that there are thoughts being had without me. He's calculating, considering, thinking of every possible downfall. That doesn't outweigh our chances of success. More soldiers than what we have now are exactly what we need. Even if they're mortals, numbers are strong.

"The real question is whether or not Saebia will kill us on sight," Renit adds. After all that thinking and that's the only inkling he got out of it.

"Again, that's a chance we have to take." I brace my hand against his chest. "We are immortals, and if we don't start behaving like we're stronger than the rest, we'll fall. Our powers will do the talking and persuading for us."

Renit's jaw tightens. "The king is kicked down already, it's possible he's willing to think of another way to survive rather than surrendering. Fighting against someone he already lost against..."

I grind my teeth, trying to bury my growing annoyance. "It's not our best plan, I know. But anything is better than what we have. And, you know, is worse comes to worst, we'll just...change our names and live out our lives in Saebia."

Huffing a laugh, Renit shakes his head and takes my hand, kissing the back of it. He doesn't mind the tattoos or the royal emblem that he presses his lips against. He has told me more than once that I should get a matching set on the other arm, only for me to shut him down quickly. The last thing I need is to have another reminder of what I did as the king's third hand.

"I would rather start my life with you in a kingdom I call my home, spitfire." Renit arches a brow. "Disappearing is not an option."

I slide across the bed towards him, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heart is a steady beat underneath his skin, and I close my eyes to bring myself closer to it, to see and feel that pulse of life. I want that beat to remain as long as I'm alive.

"Then we use this plan," I mumble. "We go to Ducoria and ask for supporters."

"Alaric will be pissed." Renit runs his fingers through my hair and I smile to myself.

Shortly after, I fall asleep against his chest and it takes a couple more hours for both of us to wake. When I do, Renit's fingers are stilled in my hair, his arm is thrown around my back, and his eyes are shut. His breathing is steady, and for once, he's sleeping harder than I am. I smile up at his face, so calm and serene at this moment.

These moments are the ones I'll remember and appreciate. For what is to come, asking for more supporters, may be the one thing that sends this entire rebellion crashing down around us.