I finally have a day to myself. Today, my muscles ache from the session before but I don't have to worry about powering through another day when all my body wants to do is shut down. It has-every single night I've come back to my chambers and slumped onto the floor next to the fireplace.

The servant to my chambers, a witch of flame, already knows to have the fire burning by the time I return from another grueling training session. Mani knows to have a hot bath drawn so for half an hour I can relieve all the tight muscles and the pounding in my head. The strongest tonics can only deter so much of the pain that comes with magic.

I've never noticed how much strain comes along with power. A witch's power is slowly developed once they hit age ten and reaches full force at fifteen. At ten years old, I was allowed small bursts of power to understand what ability I was given in the first place but I never got so far as to learn what to do with it and how to start or finish. I'm learning all that now when my power doesn't want to cooperate.

Renit has shoved me off the cliff of comfortability and didn't bother helping when I needed a soft foundation to land on. He's tested my power to its limits, almost to where I've passed out from the draining of power from my weak body when the blood pours from my nose and I see stars speckling my vision. But he doesn't care.

With all his fussing, I can start my power without an uproar. On most occasions, at least. Sometimes the pain stops me from controlling it at the beginning but the titanium band helps me start repeatedly, even when that drains me more. That as well-Renit does not care. He has said as such.

Training with Silas was the wake-up call I needed. I can start my power and wield it, a fraction of control compared to what I used to have, but I can't stop it. After a week, I still can't. Our training has lasted from sunrise to sunset with no meals in between and no breaks. Renit is as cranky and relentless as they come. I hate the fact I'll have a shit husband. My life wasn't supposed to be this way.

I walk through the castle-alone, for once. The guards watch me closely but they don't move to force me back to my chambers. Instead, their eyes go immediately to my wrist and their tensing quickly switches to relaxation as they realize I will not crush them with the stone walls. No, I'm not allowed to go anywhere in this castle without the titanium band to keep me grounded.

The dull thrum of my power is asleep and I don't have to worry about it intruding while I try to recover for one day, per Silas's orders. This morning, Renit was ready to drag me out of my chambers for another full day until Silas popped his head in, saw I couldn't move without wincing, and called the entire thing off.

Renit can't say anything to his brother, nor will he as he immediately shrugged off the argument and trudged out of the room.

I took time this morning and soaked in the bath, scrubbing myself clean and dressing in a comfortable tunic and soft trousers. Mani even came by and used today, a day I won't be covered in sweat and blood, to apply cosmetics to my face. Apparently, they make a princess more presentable and if that's who I am to be in this castle; I have to fit the part.

The attention I receive isn't out of the ordinary but it's even more consistent with the dark line of kohl and the brown shade of shadow over my amber eyes. Mani really can work wonders with beauty and to no one's surprise, can pick the right colors to accent certain features. I can tell he's itching to get me in a gown.

Hardly anyone notices me as I walk through the castle but the ones that do, they immediately bow and scurry away. I don't want them to bow to me because I am not their princess; I am the daughter of two refugees and like them; I am stuck in this hellhole. But they don't see that, they see the outside of the person I have been named and don't bother digging to find the truth.

The king won't allow that truth.

I haven't seen him since those first two days, one being the day he took my parent's lives away. The king of Esaria keeps himself busy because he never seems to leave his chambers, the tower directly in the middle of the five. In his presence, that first day, the castle was hushed and residents moved about carefully. Like he was a ghost watching over them all, no one made any wrong moves.

Every other day, everyone has light in their step and as I take in every bit of the castle with my own eyes, the same goes for today. And I'm not rushed.

I pass by the library, as big as Arego itself, and don't bother stepping in through the tall double doors because I know I'll get lost. The kitchens are slowing down from lunch and the throne room is empty except for two guards standing outside, watching over the halls. I nod at them but they don't acknowledge me or my unease.

From the arched doorway, I see someone cleaned up my parents' blood and left no evidence of what happened. Is that how the castle works? If it's not seen, it's not a threat? If it doesn't happen to you, it doesn't happen at all.

I continue on, passing by the bustling training rooms where swords clash and arrows thump against targets. I wonder if the princes are in there but don't bother checking so I don't become Renit's personal punching bag. Would he hurt me intentionally? There's no telling. He's as unpredictable as his father.

Rounding a corner, too busy looking out the glass windows to see if anything is in front of me, I bump into something-someone. She gasps as she tips back, no support in her clicking heels, and I reach out to grab her hand. She steadies, eyes wide, and looks at me quizzingly.

"Do you not pay attention?" She asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I'm taken back by her beauty. Even though her brows are furrowed in annoyance, her thin almond-shaped eyes sparkle. Their color, a deep lilac, soothes me to the core. Even if she looks ready to slap me across the cheek, I can't help but take in every little detail.

"I'm so...I'm very sorry," I stutter. There's a sense of importance about her, in her straight posture and pale skin to offset perfectly rounded, rosy cheeks. And the gown she wears, a charming tulle with beaded lace appliques. The color of ice. Part of me feels like I should bow but if she's just an overdressed courtier...

"It's all right." She looks me up and down and brushes off the front of her gown like I somehow ruined the entire thing when bumping into her. I suddenly feel uncomfortable in my tunic and trousers. "Are you a new servant? I've never seen you around here."

She continues down the hall, gesturing for me to follow. I want to tell her I just came in that direction and planned to go the opposite way but she's already walking away and I can't leave her to talk to no one when she clearly wants to have a conversation. Damn me for being kind. I jog to catch up with her, a very un-princess thing to do and she narrows her eyes at me like she knows.

"I don't know if you've heard the recent developments but Prince Renit is engaged," I tell her.

She nods slowly. "I've heard. I received a letter when I was already on my way back. Have you met her? I heard she's from Arego, the stolen village." She chuckles to herself like this is the most outrageous thing she's heard today. "I can't wait to meet the hag, I bet she's as trained as a pig in..." Her voice trails off as she slowly looks at me.

Very slowly, one of her white-gloved hands covers her perfectly painted, pink lips. Her eyes grow wide with embarrassment.

"It's fine," I affirm. "Technically, you're not wrong. I'm as trained as a pig."

If her cheeks weren't red before, they are now. Her platinum blonde hair sways when she shakes her head. The straight strands reach to her shoulders in one sharp line; not one strand is longer than the other and if I wasn't mistaken, her hair is silk.

"I'm very sorry," she mutters. "Congratulations on your engagement."

"There's not much to be celebratory about but...thank you."

She laughs through her nose. "Believe me, you'll find something to celebrate in this drab castle. It's too bad you don't have any family to visit so you can leave this place for a month at a time. I hate it here." She scowls and pushes back a blonde strand that strayed loose from the rest of the pack. "At least I'm engaged to the kind prince, even if he still hates me."

"You're Hallie?" I blurt. Before I can stop myself, the question has come out the way a child would ask an elder their name. There were better ways I could have gone about that but then I remember she thinks of me as nothing more than a well-trained pig.

Instead of barking at me for being impolite, she nods and forces a close-lipped smile that's as awkward as one might think.

I clear my throat. "It can't be too bad here. You're engaged to Silas, at least. He's the next king, you'll be on the throne before long."

She tips her head back and laughs. A servant at the end of the hall jumps at the echoing sound, turns to us, and then scurries away at the sight of my company. They must hate her as much as she hates this castle.

"Not if that cruel father of his doesn't rot. With our luck, his immortality will span another five hundred years and he'll kill us all before we have the chance to even touch a crown." She keeps her voice hushed but not enough. I cringe as her sharp tone echoes off the walls.

I cock my head to the side, calculating. I knew the king was old, but five hundred years? That seems somewhat...old. "Are you sure the king is that old?"

She nods and purses her lips together. "And his sons are over three hundred. They're a very experienced family. Their lineage extends far."

Renit is over three hundred years old. I'm being trained by an old witch who has lived many lifetimes beyond my own. And I'll have tomarry him someday. No wonder he sees me as nothing more than an immature child, it's because I am an immature child in his eyes.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Hallie?" I ask.

"That's not a question to ask a princess." She turns to me and folds her hands behind her back. She's shorter than I am and probably the most petite woman I've ever seen. Her arms are the size of twigs. And Renit thinks I'm too thin. "Besides that, since you've asked such a ridiculous question, I imagine you've heard nothing good from my betrothed, Silas."

Silas's words weren't exactly kind. But they weren't terrible either. I know he doesn't want to marry her someday but he will, for the sake of his kingdom. Maybe Esaria needs a strong woman like Hallie on the throne. If she keeps this attitude with me, then she will probably treat everyone the same.

"He said you were very kind." At least I manage to sound convincing because she perks up at the sound of that, knowing Silas doesn't hate her completely. Like everyone else. The servants bow to her but they're quick to do so and not for a second do they linger in the halls or bother to wait for her 'constructive' criticism.

I take a moment to realize she's leading me towards one of the towers and I'm escorting her to her chambers, across from Silas's. At least I get to see a whole new part of the castle-although I wasn't paying attention to anything around me. All the halls are the same and there are more closed doors to private chambers than anything. For all the guests hiding away, the king's closest supporters.

The winding stone staircase to the top of the tower is identical to my own but there isn't a chill in the air next to Silas's closed door like there is with Renit's. Instead, the door is wide open, revealing the room on the inside. I try my best not to peek in while Hallie searches for her key in the small clutch she carries but there is Silas, sitting at his desk and dozing off.

"I'll see you around, I imagine," Hallie says. The lock clicks and she pushes open the door. "You never told me your name. Unless you just want to be pig girl, I think I should know it."

I laugh under my breath. "I'm Roux. Roux Aimrey."

To my surprise, she shakes my hand. It's very un-princess-like but her grip is gentle and hardly extends past her fingers so I wouldn't consider it a proper handshake. Not compared to the brutes in Arego who shake hands with their entire bodies rather than just their arms. Watching Celestine get jostled around from those handshakes was always a highlight of my day. So gentle, that witch of the gardens.

Hallie gives me one final nod before shutting the door quietly. She leaves me standing in the hall, alone. What's new? I don't have anyone significant here and the servants would never walk with me back to my chambers. There's nothing else to do and an oncoming storm brings along harsh winds so experiencing the gardens is out of the question or practicing my power. That's another reason Renit was cooperative with postponement for today.

Silas's cheek slouches onto his fist and drool drips from the corner of his lip. A stack of paperwork in front of him is the cause of all that exhaustion and judging by his matted hair and the bags underneath his eyes, he's been working on it for hours.

His head slouches from his fist, his neck jerks forward, and then he's awake-eyes fluttering around the room. When they stop on me, he blushes and wipes away the drool with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he mutters. "That doesn't look very princely."

"I don't think anyone would fault you." I shrug. "That looks like a large stack of paperwork."

He lifts up the top sheet and waves it at me. Although it's covered in drool, he doesn't seem to care as he sets it back down and signs his name on the bottom line. "My father asked me to survey battle plans and sign off on these condolence letters sent to the families for the deaths of their loved ones, soldiers."

I stiffen. Esaria has been fighting a war for years, one my father had been a part of when he was fifteen, enlisted all the way until eighteen. He was allowed to leave because his power wasn't desired anymore. To the soldiers, the immortal soldiers, the mortal witches were useless, and minor powers like hearing battle plans from enemy lines weren't necessary.

There have been no advances or pushbacks in the war, it's been nothing but fighting and dying and soldiers returning in boxes rather than walking from the battlefield on their own two feet. The battlefield is merely a wasteland to the south of the kingdom, through a desert, and across a small stretch of ocean separating one continent from the next. The trip to the battlefield is a difficult one to make and anyone that goes normally doesn't return unless they return, injured, even after healers have done the best they can.

"Sounds like a rough job," I say as I enter his room and take a seat on the chaise next to his desk. His chambers are not much different from my own, the curtains are more exquisite and the desk...well, I don't have a desk. Silas does, for all his princely duties.

"Not as rough as the soldiers." He drags a hand over his face. "I've been to the front and fought with those men. I've watched them burn, freeze, weep, and break into hundreds of pieces. I've watched friends die and enemies tortured. War is not a place for the weak."

"You've...fought?" I ask quietly.

It's not uncommon for a prince to aid soldiers in the war, to show his face where no one expects him, but to fight along with soldiers at the front, where the targets are the strongest, is uncommon. For Silas to have done that, as the next king of Esaria, he's handing over his life in favor of men who are stronger and weaker than him. Soldiers, brute and unrelenting. The crown prince was one of them.

Silas nods and signs his name on another apology letter. Already written out, meaningless words meant to dull the pain when parents, a wife, a child, or a sibling receives that letter stating their loved one isn't coming home. The prince's signature is supposed to be a symbol that the royal family cares. I doubt that sentiment stretches much farther than Silas himself. "We both have. Renit fought longer than I did. I was at the front for three years. He went for five."

Five years. That's nearly a third of my life. For an immortal, those years are nothing-especially for someone over three hundred years old. Those years go by in the blink of an eye and with the stress that benefits war, certain luxuries can kill or distract a prince. Women, battles, drinks, and killing.

"If you're searching for a reason for Renit's cruel personality, the front lines are not it. He was happiest when he was fighting. It's this castle that brings out the worst in him," Silas goes on to say. I nod, not sure what to say myself. In the back of my mind, I'm always searching for reasons why the prince could be so cruel, whether he's that much of his father or not.

I can tell Silas inherited most of his positive energy from his mother. The brightness of grey eyes and lighter hair came from her as well. Renit and the king, they're mirror images in personality and face. I hate to think the man on the throne is basically the same man I will marry someday.

"Thank you for ordering a day off from training, by the way." It's the only thing I can think to say to the crown prince.

"Renit was working you too hard. Although it's not a day off for him; he can't seem to sit still. He's probably training, kicking the life out of a guard brave enough to go against him." Silas smiles, barely the recognition of one, but I catch it.

What I wouldn't give to know how to fight. I've wanted to know for years, in case the village was ever invaded and I needed to know how to protect myself but now, there's a completely different reason. I need to protect Celestine and myself from the horrors of this castle and the princes and kings with hundreds of years of training. They have to be as lethal as the most legendary assassins.

"He's that strong?" I ask, scrunching up my nose.

Silas shrugs. The pen scratches over the paper as he signs his name again, a fine swoop of his large hands tracing out the letters he's written hundreds of times before. Possibly thousands. "Stronger than me. He does nothing but train. That's the routine he has to keep when he's known as the king's weapon."

My eyebrows raise involuntarily. In Arego, we never talked about the princes so we didn't know their standings or what the king might use them for, even what their powers were. We wanted nothing to do with the royal family and any subject of them was dropped before it started. Not a single immigrant stated anything about Renit other than rumors and no one coined him as the king's weapon. It makes sense, now that I'm growing to know him.

I think I've discovered one more piece to the puzzle why Renit is so cruel. He has been labeled as a killer for hundreds of years and has trained like one since. I want to hear the story of how he gained the nickname but I think that's better saved for later. For a time when I know both princes better and I've been here longer than a week and a half.

Losing my parents feels so long ago. My soul still aches for them, to share stories or jokes or even a meal but they're not here. I look for them in the castle until my mind remembers they're dead and I can't bring them back. Training has been the only thing dulling the pain from their separation from this world and to the next, so there's something decent coming from Renit's persistence.

I miss them with all I have. I smell my mother's perfume in the clearing, my father's musk in the bathing room. They're everywhere, even if they were only at the castle for a short time. The magic in me looks for them whenever it can, searching for the lifeblood granting me this power.

Silas gives me a nod of farewell as I stand from the comfortable chaise. Leaving on Renit's account is a good note, and he doesn't bother saying anything else, a single word, as I shuffle out of his room and look for the next bright spot in this never-ending castle.