"A fight in the kitchens, Roux? Really?" Renit shouts. He shoves me into his chambers and slams the door behind him; hard enough to shake the windows. I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound. In Arego, I knew when doors slammed and windows rattled that what was about to happen on the inside of that cottage was not part of pleasantries.

"I told you!" I shout back. "He wouldn't leave Celestine alone!" I gesture towards the sidewall of his chambers as though the kitchens might be on the other side.

"That doesn't give you the right to attack him!" Renit moves towards me, a threatening pace, and I take two steps back with my hand outstretched before me. I watch his every move.

He freezes, annoyance still in his eyes, but slows. "Don't touch me," I warn.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I need to inspect your wounds. I can't tell from our distance apart if he crushed anything." Renit bats my hand away and finishes those dangerous steps forward, tilting up my chin to get a better look. I despise being this close to him, especially with my neck this vulnerable to attack. The witch collects daggers for a reason.

As carefully as he can, he runs his thumb over the bruises in the shape of a collar around my skin and determines nothing is cracked or broken. When he steps away and drags a hand through his hair, staring at me with those looming silver eyes, I can barely stare back. "Do you need a healer?" He asks. I want to slap him for how gentle he sounds.

"No, I don't." My voice is quiet to match his tone and that...that is not good. This is a different conversation than what we normally have, bickering or shouting at each other like moments ago. He's being genuine, this is a different characteristic than what he has allowed himself to show.

The blood from his nose has stopped dripping and has dried against his skin, stopping at his lip before trickling back down his chin. "Do you need a healer?"

Renit snorts. "I've been in much worse conditions. A bloody nose and bruised knuckles are nothing for me. You, on the other hand, I don't want to see you doing that again. No more fights in the kitchens." He points a finger at me like I'm a child and I slap it away, same as he did with mine.

When I nod, he walks towards his bathing chamber. "No more fights in the kitchens," I repeat under my breath in a mocking tone. He stops, turns, and raises his eyebrows at me. My eyes immediately go to the floor to hide my smile.

"Seriously?" He grounds out.

I stutter over my own words and he waits for what I might have to say after that. Never mock a prince, apparently. "You don't have to be so serious all the time. It was just a little fight."

"A little fight? This isn't a playground, this is a castle and after this engagement ceremony, everyone will know you're my betrothed. You have to be professional." He moves towards me again, this time at a slower pace, and I allow him to run his thumb over my throat for a second time to check if anything is broken. Nothing more than bruises, I don't feel any pain.

"I didn't attack him for fun. I did it because he wouldn't leave Celestine alone. It was my right to knock him upside the head with a tray." In that blurred state of mind, there hadn't been a better option than hitting him with that tray. Other than the options of asking Silas to interfere or opting for the simple route—pushing Darius away—neither had occurred. That was the farthest I've ever sunk into myself without my power present.

"That's the thing, you have no right. If you can't defend yourself, don't start fights!" He slaps his hands against his thighs and in his eyes, restraint flashes through his senses, pushing with all his force. "I won't always be there to defend you and if he kept choking you, he might have—"

Renit stops himself and shakes his head. The prince locked away in his mind turns away and tries to find something to do while the words hang in the air. Taking them back isn't an option, he just told me he might have cared whether I'm dead or alive. If Darius hadn't been stopped, I could have died. That's what he wanted to say, but those words were too personal to get out. This all goes back to whoever he lost.

"Teach me how," I say quietly. He leans over his desk, palms flat against the surface.

"What?" He snaps, whirling fast to face me.

"Teach me how to fight and you don't have to defend me. I'll stand up for myself." I try to stand a little straighter when the words leave my sore throat but I only sound like a weak girl itching for a fight when there isn't one. Renit will be the one to give me that fight.

As I expected, he scoffs and shakes his head. "We have enough to deal with. I don't have the time or the patience to teach you how to stand up for yourself and with how...small and weak you are, it would take months for you to build up the strength it takes to become more than just a pile of bones." He waves a hand at me with a scowl, reminding me of what he once called me.

As the storm rained down on us, tearing through my clothes and blinding my senses, I was called useless. I was told I amount to nothing here in the capital and by Renit's account—I was better off dead.

Dead, as in six feet under. That is what he wanted for me. And to avoid being married, to avoid having to do anything with me other than stand in the same room, I know he would rather have me six feet under still. The small bits of kindness he has conveyed are nothing to what he can give me. Renit is so much more, if he wanted to be, but he has always shoved down that sense of needing someone other than himself.

He blocks off any sense of hope—any chance to get close to someone.

"When are you going to see me as something other than useless?" I demand. My hands clench into fists. I'm thankful for that titanium band holding everything back.

Renit saunters over to the side of the bed and sits, merely feet away from me. There is too little space and not enough warmth between us. My mind still wants to hate him and be cautious around his existence but I know that can't always be the case between us. Not when we're forced to provide a future for this kingdom as a prince and princess.

"I don't see you as useless," he says quietly, eyes on the floor. "I just...I don't know if you can stand up to the horrors that are this court and this castle."

I grind my teeth, clenching down on my jaw to keep from screaming. "How do you expect me to believe in myself when you won't even act like I'm worth anything?" The distance between us, it keeps growing. And growing. And growing. There is an endless climb for me, up a tree or a steep cliff, I don't know. The treachery of the mission changes from day to day. Sometimes I make progress, others I do not.

"I shouldn't have to be your crutch," Renit retorts. "You should know you are strong and with that, your power will rage."

I tip my head back and laugh unsteadily. "Quit speaking to me in such formalities! Be you, Renit, stop behaving like the person they've made you become." I step forward and before he can move out of my grasp, take his face in my hands. He doesn't move but he won't look at me either. His hard stare presses into the necklace against my tunic.

"I am who I've grown to be, there is no changing." He shoves off my hands and with a firm press of his palm against my stomach, pushes me back.

Desperation roils inside of me like a blazing inferno. "Can you remember?" I ask him. When he slaps his hands against his knees, annoyed by my dense question, my hands clench into involuntary fists. "Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?"

His face scrunches in annoyance. "Give it a rest, Roux! Quit trying to figure me out."

I let out a groan mixed with a growl and drag my hands through my hair. There is no getting through to him. Breaking down that wall—it's as solid as this entire kingdom; all the stone put together. Even with my power, I can't find the light at the end of the tunnel. I can't break him.

"Listen to me!" I scream. "We have to be more than this someday. We will have to be husband and wife, mother and father to the possible children we create together!" I pound my palms against his chest and with his brows furrowed, he has that look in his eye telling me he might return the favor. "I don't care if you don't want me to figure you out. Renit Marron, you are worth finding and you are worth knowing. Someday, you will be worth loving. Every single one of your million layers, I will uncover, and if you can't deal with that, then I'm sorry but I'm not ready to live my life shackled to someone who won't make it work. So I will make it work."

He blinks at me. He's at a loss for words. I take a deep breath and two steps back to ensure he doesn't tackle me to the ground and finish what Darius started. Renit's eyes drift to the bruises on my neck and then to the aggravation on my face as I try with all my might to get through to him. Easier said than done.

Those words were better left unsaid. Each one of them has been waiting to taste the air and now that I've said them...it feels good. More, I need to tell him more. Everything I've been thinking, the questions and the persuasions and the love and the life we could have if he gave in. The magic we could create together is nothing short of extraordinary.

To my surprise, he laughs. A quick laugh; hardly anything to recognize. He rests his elbows on his knees and with all the light in his eyes, says, "I wonder what will get you killed first—your loyalty or your stubbornness?"

Through my tears, I laugh. "Aren't they one in the same?" I rush to him before I realize what I'm doing and throw my arms around his neck. I don't expect him to return the gesture, not as I stand between his legs at equal height and suck in as much of his warmth as I possibly can. He wears the smell of blood and death as a perfume and I breathe it in.

Seconds before I'm ready to pull away, one of his bruised and bloodied knuckles scrapes against my back and embraces me. The gesture isn't much, but it's enough to know there's a person inside there, desperately screaming to get out. He thrashes against his innermost doors and I'll be the one to unlock them. Someday. I'll be the one that sets him free.