"Finally, something other than ocean fish," Renit says as I enter the new community kitchens carrying the basket of fish with me. He dries his hand with a torn rag after cutting onions and peppers and makes his way over the wooden counter I stop at.

"These are special," I whisper so anyone in the dining room down the hall can't hear. The new community kitchens are smaller than they once were, yet they're more diverse. In the building my father constructed to be the library of Arego, a stone structure with hallways and rooms compared to a single entrance and no diversity through the layout, we've changed the structure enough to accommodate for cooking and sitting areas.

Most of the work happened before Renit and I got here. Since my father was still working on the building, none of the furniture had been placed within the rooms. But the rebels stocked the seating rooms with wooden tables of all shapes and sizes, some that survived the destruction and some they built themselves.

In the biggest room, the walls paneled like the interior of a ship; they constructed wooden countertops, two in the middle of the room, and an oven and a stove for cooking. Pots and pans hang from the ceiling over the wooden countertops stocked with cutting boards, baskets of fruits and vegetables, and anything else that will contribute to tonight's meal.

Renit tips the basket in his direction and surveys the fish. "Dare I ask why these are special?" He pulls one out onto the counter and begins cleaning it. I do the same, sticking the knife in the cold, white underbelly of the freshwater fish. Another task my father taught me; I cleaned the fish when he came home with a sizable bounty.

"These are for the two of us," I respond. "We're going to have a special meal of our own. Celestine gathered berries, I hid those in a cabinet, and we will sit on the cliffsides to enjoy our meal in peace."

Renit arches a brow at me. "If we start hogging food, the rebels might ask questions."

My fingers are covered in blood and guts from the fish. I shrug and toss a limp, scaly body aside—into the basket now empty of river fish. Renit narrows his eyes at me, he's barely halfway through his first fish and I'm making great strides to get to my second. His hands move quicker than they were before so I don't leave him in the dust.

"It's only one meal. We haven't had any privacy since arriving here; it's been one thing right after the other." Renit's too busy watching me to focus on cleaning the fish in his hands. "I promise to share tomorrow."

There's an unspoken question between us that Renit doesn't want to ask. Whether I'm feeling better or not. We've tabled the discussion for a later time when I do start feeling better, but I know impatience is killing him. No one more than the banished prince wants to bring me back to the witch I once was, even more than Bren, but he's also better at stepping aside so I have the chance to take the necessary time.

Nightmares still haunt me, he's aware of them all, and being the only one that sleeps in the same room—the same bed, rather—Renit is the chosen witch to help me through shaken breaths and a racing heart. The Grounding bond, sitting idle until I start panicking, is the connection I pull on to bring myself back to sanity. Renit doesn't have to do much other than provide warmth, forehead kisses, and gentle reassurance before I'm feeling like myself again.

The wooden floorboards groan underneath my boots when I move to the other side of the counter to finish chopping the vegetables Renit abandoned when I walked in. Instead of standing in the kitchen with my mother and chopping vegetables, the prince now stands at my side. Everything has changed—down to the volume of my company.

Having the presence of the prince in the same room as myself...I never thought I'd see the day. The princes were hardly a factor in my mind growing up, and they didn't come into play until rumors of the king and stories of refugees came flooding in along with their wounds and wide, hopeless eyes. How I hated the royal family back then. Part of that truth remains, but it doesn't stick with Renit or Silas.

After spending months in the castle, all fingers need to point at the witch on the throne. He's wreaked enough havoc for the entire family and I won't put it past him to unleash a fiery hell upon us all, and the rest of the kingdom. No one is safe, not the strongest witch or the weakest mortal. The king of Esaria is out to lead us all. Rather—he needs us to bow. Too many are frightened to stand against such a force.

"How...how was fishing?" Renit manages to ask. When I look up, he's staring at the tattoo on my arm rather than my face. Upon recognizing my attention, his eyes snap over to mine. His mumbled apology is hardly anything I care for.

I slice into the carrots, cutting perfect rounds. "It was fine," I say. "We talked about Celestine's power and the dangers of it; the target on her back." My words are drowned out by the hack of the knife against the wooden cutting board.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Renit nod. "Is she frightened?"

"Not as much as I would be."

If it wasn't slow already, Renit's movements to clean the fish turn into hardly anything more than him holding the fish in his hands. The knife hovers over another but he doesn't cut. I know what's coming before he speaks the words. Renit can only hold in his questions and worries for so long. I can't say I blame him. "You are frightened," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "With your power or the next; you're scared of what my father might have planned."

"Aren't you?" I ask the question without bothering to look up. I don't carry the strength others do to meet his eye. Not right now. My mind is swirling with the need to crumble just so I can avoid any questions he has lined up for me. Too many questions. Too many people have cared to ask me one thing after the other—all I don't want to answer. I never thought Renit would be on the other side.

The witch of storm studies my face with a certain sorrow. "If I didn't have you, I don't think I'd be frightened at all."

My chopping slows.

"If I didn't have you, I'd have nothing, and I'd be more than willing to sacrifice everything to kill my father."

My eyes shine with tears and I swallow down the lump in my throat. Stopping my chopping completely, I step closer to stand at Renit's side. He's already drying his hands to rid them of the rotten fish smell. A second later, he slides those hands around my waist and presses his lips against my cheek.

"What are you saying?" I ask, running my hand down his abdomen.

Renit's lips move to the other side of my cheek and his warmth spreads there, too. The laughter and conversation echoing down the hall from the dining area quickly falls away. Never did I think I'd be in the arms of a man that once had a crown on his head, once did his father's bidding, once fell in love and had a child—only to lose everything in the end.

"I'm saying you make me want to live. I have you, and I'm not prepared to lose you. After this, I want to discover what it feels like to live and have utter happiness. I haven't experienced it in so long; I spent years feeling sorry for myself, and I want to remember what it feels like to have something of my own, something my father can't touch." He applies the slightest bit of pressure against my lips with his thumb. "I want to find my happiness...with you."

My hands move on their own accord over his hands, arms, shoulders, and drape to cup the back of his neck. I tangle my fingers into his hair. I enjoy these excuses to touch him and explore the hard lines of his face, pressing my thumb against the scar along his cheekbone—the smallest blemish on his smooth skin.

I can't help myself. His confessions have told me enough; I don't want to wait anymore. Renit Marron is mine, we have each other, and with the future laid out before us, happiness is limited. I want what he does, happiness with him at my side, but there's no guarantee once this is over and the king is dead—if we manage to make it there, to begin with.

I will not waste another second on false happiness. Renit's been within reach for days now; I've only fiddled with the option of letting him in completely. No more second-guessing.

Leaning in, I press my lips against his in the gentlest touch. Renit's hands tighten, pulling me against him the rest of the way, and in the empty community kitchens belonging to Arego's rebels, my heart blossoms within my chest. My fingers thread into his hair and Renit's body practically shakes with the desperation to go further.

"I want to find happiness with you, too," I whisper against his lips.

Renit shudders and claims my mouth again. A jolt of desire spreads through me, curdling in my stomach and spreading into my weak knees. I throw my arms around his neck, desperate to have him against me even closer than he already is, and he kisses my lips fervently.

A groan escapes my lips, locked against Renit's, as my body warns me to take the breath that I so desperately need to survive. To continue this. To absolutely relish in the witch I can't keep myself from any longer. Renit's hand slides through my hair, stopping against my jaw to press his thumb against it and tilt my head up, towards the ceiling.

Warm with the taste of me, Renit pulls away enough to trail his lips down my throat and up again, behind my ear.

"Renit," I gasp, needing his lips on mine again. His growl so close to my ear sends a shock wave through me and chills spread over my skin. I can't get enough; my nails claw at his shirt, at his belt, at anything that keeps us separated from each other.

His lips do find mine again and I melt, completely unable to control the sounds leaving my throat. Renit moves swiftly, picking me up by the back of my knees to wrap myself around him, as tight as I possibly can. 

I forget all sense of the world around me, of the fear and pain I've been feeling, and open myself fully to him. Renit's tongue sweeps in, exploring and tasting everything he's been avoiding for so long. To wait for when I'm ready, for when that drive consumes me—here we are.

Renit sets me down on the counter, my legs still locked around his hips, and inhales sharply. The bond between us sings in answer, our powers dancing together as one and warming our souls to the extent of my inability to maintain control any longer. I want Renit. I need him. Now.

I've waited so long for this. Not just to have him in my arms, my fingers threading through his hair and his hands cupped against the back of my knee to tighten my grip on him, but to feel somewhat normal again. My heart is close to bursting, the leash I've kept on myself threading thin.

With his lips comes the taste of rain and the smell of a summer storm. I'm stumbling over every breath until he pulls away, our chests rising and falling heavily to gulp down the air we've forgotten about; couldn't care less about.

Again, he kisses up and down my neck. His hot breath spreads more chills onto my skin. "Renit," I whisper in need of a connection to the world around us. Slipping farther and farther into the unknown, I allow myself to let go.

His hand tightens around my thigh. I whisper his name again in all-out desperation and tug on his shirt to remove the perfect tuck he's mastered over years of being a prince. My hands slide underneath to drag against his abdomen and Renit groans with acceptance. I tip my head back, scarlet hair falling behind my shoulders, and Renit leans with me.

I explore every inch of him, my nails dragging along his back and over his chest when he kisses me again. This is it. The burning in my core says enough about how long I'm able to wait.

At first, I don't hear the presence in the room. Someone clearing their throat. But through the fog I've drifted into, the world screams at me to come back to reality. Renit appears to be in the same position as his kiss drags on, longer than either of us are prepared to undergo, and he pulls away. His silver eyes meet mine, cast in a sheen of their own fog, and I swallow the dryness in my throat.

"What?" He rasps. I look down, finding his shirt tangled, my legs locked around him, his hands gripped tight onto me.

"The least you could've done is wait until after the entire village—hardworking rebels in the midst of taking down your father—received their meal," Bren snaps. Neither of us makes a move to separate, but I slack my legs and rest them on the counter.

Meeting Bren's eye, he frowns at me. Renit watches the witch of flame standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Every tightening of Renit's body tells me Bren just interrupted something very important. Renit won't stand for that much longer.

"We'll prepare dinner." There's nothing kind in Renit's voice. In fact, a shadow of disappointment hangs over his words.

Bren slackens his arms to his sides and nods, disappointed. "Fine, but keep your hands off each other until then."

He disappears down the hall, the only sound being his boots stomping over the floorboards until he reaches the dining room of the community kitchens. The rebels greet him with open arms, hoots, and hollers breaking out through the crowd that is either spending their time amongst friends or waiting for dinner.

Renit's shoulders slack when he sighs. I press a light touch against the side of his turned face and kiss along his jaw, gently and effortlessly. "I hate that we can't find time alone," I mutter against his skin.

"If you want time alone, I'm more than willing to find it." Renit smiles against my lips and kisses me one last time, softer than the need for each other we just expressed. A pang of want slams inside my chest. "When there is time to find, I'll find it."

The light in his eyes leaves me with no other choice but to believe him. I force myself to unwrap from around him and finish preparing for dinner, a silent tension between us that couldn't be cut with the sharpest of knives. It doesn't go away, all the way through dinner and after, when we finally crawl into bed and prepare ourselves for another night's sleep. By that time, I'm more worried about my nightmares than anything else—even my desire to have all of Renit to myself.