The weight of a sword in my hand is not foreign. I've held this weapon time and time again, the cold pommel putting pressure on the outside of my fist is no stranger, neither is the leather grip groaning underneath my fingernails digging in.

The sun glistens down the steel blade from the lower end to the point, directing me exactly where I need to thrust the weapon to lay waste to my enemies. I flinch at the thought of that phrase; they handed it to me when I fought in the war with the king. The commanders and generals, along with Binx and Darius, were more than willing to express their gratitude through those two simple words. It'll hang over my head for the rest of my days.

For my sake, Renit gave me a simple sword. The pommel is a hollow diamond and the cross-guard is not decorated like the finest of royal swords. The steel isn't bent into wisps to resemble the most complicated of vines like I've grown used to. The only handiwork that went into crafting this sword was sharpening it, everything else was merely an afterthought.

The king's swords were intricate. Details of all different proportions went into creating such a spectacular weapon that would only kill; kill; kill. He wanted it no other way, and I went along with it. I took the twin swords, mirror to his own, and killed soldiers with them. If there was any second thought hiding away in my mind, I couldn't find it. Everything about me was buried so deep; I'm still trying to uncover the true being.

"Are you ready?" Renit asks, breaking me from my trance. He stands only a few feet away with an identical sword in his hand. The weapon is naturally placed in his grip.

I nod and turn my full attention to the witch standing before me. The time has come to discover whether the king's strengths still live within me. My body moved without thinking, struck without considering, killed without the necessary skills. But they were there, the king gifted them to me and in return, my body reacted in the only way it knew how.

His dark power has departed my body. It makes sense that his strengths; the skill crafted by over five hundred years of life, left with it.

"I'm ready," I confirm.

"I don't want you to hold back, all right?" Renit watches me through lowered brows. "Do whatever it takes to win."

I want to crack a joke, saying I don't want to go too far because his life still means something to me, but this isn't the time. I'm more eager than he is to discover what's still within my bones, what I've developed myself, and where the prince stands during battle. We've never sparred beyond basic training and standing in the clearing outside Arego with a small cluster of rebels going through the same drills, we're taking yet another step closer towards discovering the demons chewing away at my sanity underneath my skin.

Wind is our only companion through this battle, the only living thing that will separate us during the clashing of blades. The collar of Renit's tunic flaps back and forth to reveal the three tattoos pointing up at the base of his throat. He waits, twisting the blade back and forth in his hands, and I go over everything he taught me. Know where to strike, every opponent has their weaknesses.

It's difficult to find a weakness on a three-hundred-year-old witch. Renit received the best training in the kingdom; from assassins to the king's most skilled men, to warriors that have fought their entire lives without taking a breath. Each one has taught Renit a skill, absorbed into his skin, and those movements come about naturally. I've never spotted a weakness on the banished prince, he fights fluidly and easily without involving too much theatrics to complicate the movements. Yet, his opponents can't keep up.

He fights exactly like his father.

I'll use that rage to my advantage. Remember that the king did this, but his son still carries his blood. They are similar in more ways than one and both have had their chance to show themselves to the world. Now it's my turn.

I don't go into this with a planned attack. My only goal is to throw Renit off his feet and gain the upper hand, one way or the other. As long as he doesn't see what's coming, I have a chance of beating a witch that's never lost a fight. If he had, he wouldn't be here today.

"Are you all right?" Renit asks. He brings me back to reality one last time.

When I don't speak, he loosens his stance and his grip on the sword. Now.

I drive forward, spinning with the sword extended out in my grip to aim for his throat. Renit leans back at the last second and avoids the blade, but stumbles as I twist again and slam my boot into his stomach. He's falling fast, nearly slamming into the ground, if it's not for his ability to regain control over his weight and flip his body back to a standing position. All the while, the sword remains in his grip.

The sickening grin on his face reminds me that he holds sway in age, strength, wisdom, and just about everything else. I give him the time he needs to come after me. Renit slides his blade along mine and the steel sings together to create the sweetest of symphonies. We circle each other by putting one foot in front of the other with such a light touch that the world can't feel the pressure flowing through our bodies.

"You strike fast," he compliments.

I scoff. "At least I don't wait around for others to get the job done...like some people." He's ready to retort, the perfect distraction, when I slide my sword up into the air to close the distance between us. It's my turn to offer a sickening smirk. I slam my boot into the top of his foot and he jumps back after being lost in my eyes, hissing with pain.

Renit chuckles underneath his breath and lurches at me, aiming low. But I've seen him complete this attack before, he will change tactic and strike high, for the chest, and I'll be prepared. Sparks fly as our blades clash, directly over where I knew he planned to strike—inches away from my heart.

I slide my blade across his, taking my turn to aim low, and Renit shoves me back. Each of my movements feels like my own, the king isn't pulling on the strings to my actions. The skills I'm showcasing here are not entirely his, the majority of them are mine. Now that I know that, it's time to see exactly what I've learned.

Part of myself is unleashed into the open and I drag my sword down from overhead. Renit meets my blade with a block, outnumbering me in strength, and when I grin down at the space between his legs, he shoves me back before I can even think of creating that sort of pain. I did so in the throne room on that day he brought me back. It seems so long ago.

"Are you scared?" I mock. We circle each other again, this time with our swords pointed towards the ground instead of mingling together like dance partners.

Renit's answer is a wink. Now he's the one using a distraction. And it works, for a second later, he aims for the space between my own legs. I open my stance, broadening, and I realize a second too late what his tactic is. He sweeps out an ankle from underneath me, clipping it with his boot, and I fall.

It's not over yet. I don't give Renit the satisfaction of pointing his sword at my throat. Rolling out of the way, I put distance between our two bodies, only to find him charging at me. I duck low, underneath his swiping blade, and roll until I'm standing again. Take a trick from the opponent's book. Another tip gifted to me by Renit.

The banished prince's back is exposed and I charge at him to slash for his middle. Renit's blade meets me halfway to block off his exposed side and when he turns, enough space between us, I find myself unable to breathe when he slams his boot against my stomach. Not hard enough for me to fall, but enough to show me that he's not willing to give me any sort of advantage.

Sweat drips from my forehead and burns my eyes, blurring my vision of the witch before me. Without actually hurting him, I can't practice the moves I know would win this fight in my favor. Renit is too strong, too skilled, and much too advanced for me to beat. At least with weapons.

"What are you smiling at?" Renit dares ask. I drop my sword into the dirt and he cocks his head. "If you're done, you can accept your surrender now."

Nearly in time for him to finish, I'm rushing at him. He doesn't know what to do other than stand there, frozen, so he drops his sword and prepares himself for what might come next. Expect the unexpected. Another skill to use.

I leap for his shoulders and Renit ducks, dropping low to grab onto my leg and vault me over his head but it's too late. I wrap my legs around him and use my thighs for strength to squeeze tight as I'm wrapped around his neck. Twisting myself back towards the ground, taking Renit with me, we slam against the surface and I release myself from around him.

He groans. "What the hell was that?" Renit squeezes his eyes shut and coughs up the loss of breath in his lungs.

I crawl over, sitting on top of him, and pin his wrists over his head. "Your father taught me that," I confess, breathing heavy. "But that doesn't matter. What does is the fact that I just won."

Renit stares up at me, a look of bewilderment in his eye, and he grips on tight to my back and flips us so our bodies are in reverse positions. His weight presses into my stomach and I draw back my fist, preparing myself to punch him in the jaw, when the cold presence of a knife tickles my jaw.

"Damn it," I growl.

Chuckling, he leans down, a hair's breadth away from my lips, and whispers, "Always expect a hidden weapon."

The freedom in my bones wishes for him to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead, Renit pulls himself away and off of me to brush himself off. It's not until he has cleaned off the dust of this battle that he reaches down a hand for me, still in the trance of him, and helps me stand.

"You've made progress," he compliments. Renit gathers his simple sword, simple for my sake, and sheaths the blade at his hip. Nearly everything in Arego is one step further away from the luxuries of the castle, including the weapons. Not only am I trying to find some semblance of normalcy without gold edgings or intricate tracings; Renit is, too.

I straighten my tunic with a snarl. "Clearly, not enough. If I'm not able to beat you, how am I supposed to stand against your father and his unstoppable army?"

"Your job isn't to stand against my father and his army. Mostly, you'll use your power and training with weapons is a simple way to gather your strength and your hand-eye coordination. You need a backup in case your power fails, and you need to maintain strength if you want to be anywhere close to the rebels." Renit doesn't bother softening the truth with a coat of sugar.

We walk back to Arego together, exhaustion in our bones and dragging our every step. We started our training early this morning with our powers and fully unleashed them to test strengths. Renit's storm is more complex than I ever could have thought, and my power of ground loves, more than anything, to best its opposite. Being so young, I can hardly keep up with the competitive drive of the witch inside me. But I managed.

Winding through the groups of rebels training on the outskirts of Arego, their eyes drifting in our direction with whispers on their lips, I find that I don't care what they have to say. A prince and a princess are joining in their forces, yes, but we're nothing special. If anything, our significance is no larger than theirs. Their courage stretches volumes beyond what ours entails.

I'll never be in the same league as them in terms of strength. My body won't allow it, the muscle I've packed on is nearly all I can handle in the short amount of time we have to plan, prepare, and train ourselves for the inevitable. One way or the other, this will end with one side gone and the other—standing victorious. Part of me wonders if we'll even get through the capital gates without the crown prince on our side. But that's a question best saved for another time.

Renit dives deep into his power and tugs on the Grounding bond. A rope connects us now, a silent one that awakens our powers to mingle. I snap to attention at that gentle tug and look over, finding his dark brows raised in silent question. "You'll be fine," he reassures. "Weapons take...years to master and with your power, you have no need to worry. You're stronger than the majority of these rebels here."

I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. "And who is stronger?"

Smirking with a devilish truth hidden on his lips, Renit slings an arm over my shoulder and drapes it lazily over my front. "I say you and I are equal in strength. No one is stronger."

"Smart answer." I stick an elbow in his ribs and Renit laughs, sliding his arm away from me.

This is the most free I've felt since coming back from the king's control. My steps are lighter and I can hardly contain my smile as I wrap an arm around his waist and lean into his side. He smells like sweat and steel with the undertones of rain drifting over from his power. Once again, the Grounding bond has discovered a way to soothe my soul without trying.