"What are you doing here?" I groan, rubbing at my eyes. As I rise, my gown sticks to me and twists between my legs. I'm beginning to smell like the rotten perfume Mani made me wear for the celebration.

Silas looks towards the door like someone will walk in at any minute. He moves over to the bed, where I sit. I nearly usher him away because of the smell but he doesn't seem to notice as he sits on the edge. "Celestine's birthday is next week, right?" Great. I forgot. Besides, that, I nod. "I want you to go to Mailan with me and help find her the perfect gift."

My heart leaps at the possibility of exploring the city beyond the castle. And if Silas needs to find a birthday present for Celestine, then so do I. I've been begging and pleading Renit to explore the beautiful stone streets of the capital but he's always told me it's not worth it to find myself in the mix of the citizens. How did I not realize Silas was the door to my freedom the entire time?

"Why do you want to give her a gift?" I cock my head to the side. With my words comes along a whiff of my breath and I hope Silas is far enough away so he can't smell it.

"Last night, when I took her back to her chambers, we almost kissed. Almost." He exposes his hands in innocence. "And I was thinking, if she sees me as something more than just a friend then I should try to plead my case with her, right?"

The urge to protect Celestine soars. She was drunk and the reason Silas brought her up to her chambers was so many of the desperate men didn't pull her aside and take advantage of her dazed state. For him to have almost kissed her—I want to warn him to never do that again. But I hold back for the sake of his excitement. "I don't know, everything with Hallie makes it difficult. Didn't you two end up together last night?" I remind him.

"It's not the first time," he scoffs. "Just because I'm forced to marry Hallie doesn't mean I can't find love elsewhere. I think Celestine and I have the chance to be...great together." He looks down at the floor, smiling at a memory I can't place in my head. I don't want them together, the pressure on Celestine would be too much—more than she's had to deal with already.

And Celestine is too pure to accept life as Silas's mistress. She's always desired the right man and the perfect family in Arego. After Renit ruined that entirely, there isn't a single chance of her dreams coming true—at least not here. It pains me to think she will find that love elsewhere, possibly in another small village littering the kingdom. Celestine needs to be anywhere but here. It will be the first time in our lives we've been separated.

"I think you would too but Celestine doesn't want to share the man she loves," I confess easily. His face contorts into visible pain but he nods anyway. "I'll still go with you to find a birthday gift."

Silas scratches at the back of his head. "No, if you don't think she's interested then I don't want to push her. There are plenty of garden supplies I can get her, nothing too important."

I squeeze my eyes shut at the hurt in his voice. He slides off the bed and I grab his arm. If he doesn't find a complicated gift that would need my help, I'll never get the chance to leave this castle. "She might be interested, I don't know. Since she's arrived here, her preferences might have changed. There's no sense in not trying."

"Do you really think so?" His eyes brighten. I nod. "Tonight, this evening, we'll go to the city and find her a gift. Don't tell Renit, he'll get pissy." He jerks a thumb towards the door.

"I'll keep it to myself," I promise. He holds back his childish squeal and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.

A second into the embrace, he sniffs. "You need to take a bath." He pulls away, grimacing.

I roll my eyes. "Get out and I can do that."

He obliges, nearly dancing out of my chambers with a wink and a spring in his step. I laugh to myself and twist myself out of the complicated gown, dropping to nothing in my bathing chambers. Relief tags along with the removal of cosmetics and the earrings lodged into my lobes. Glitter floats over the surface of the water as I scrub my hair and remove the caked-on junk I accumulated last night.

Freedom is nothing short of a clean body.

With Renit locked away in his chambers for the night, I change into a pair of fitting trousers, a charcoal tunic with silver embroidery, and knee-high, black leather boots. The golden clasp of my onyx cloak is secured over my chest and with the hood, I am nothing more than a shadow walking between buildings. And everyone will see me as such.

The only bit of light on my entire body is the sheath containing the dagger Renit gifted me. I will wear the sheath—and the weapon—proudly at my hip, even if he is upset with me for an unforeseen reason. I tried to reason with him hours ago when I found him sitting at his desk, poring over bits of paperwork about the Fosux Mines, a cruel location to the south-west of the capital.

Feeling him out, I complained about never seeing the capital other than through the small window of a prison wagon with my family at my back. Each of us was shackled then so the entire experience had been ruined by Renit dragging us here against our will.

Barely paying attention to my pleading, he claimed this wasn't the proper time for me to witness the capital. There were still many wonders in the castle and if I wanted to explore, I would go walk along the rooftops of the castle and find something interesting up there. I wasn't certain if he was serious or just trying to get rid of me—forever. But I kept asking, prying, until my plan was a simple crack in the stone.

Under no circumstances would he allow me to leave with Silas if he knew what we were planning to do. When my first plan didn't work, my next was to make him hate me even more. Which I did. It hadn't taken long, just a few, well-placed comments about his Outbursts and how he should have never lost control.

After two sentences, he was already screaming at me to get out. He locked his door and left me out in the hall and hadn't left since. He won't, not for the rest of the night, and that gives Silas and I the chance we need to sneak out of the castle against the watch of ghosts. Not even the king must know about this since, in his eyes, I'm strictly forbidden.

Standing in front of the mirror in my chambers, I take a second to look at what I've become. When I first arrived at this twisted castle, I was underweight, weak, and near dead after thrashing around in the ocean for nearly a day. My body was covered in bruises and to say I was sore beyond belief is an understatement.

Now I look like a different person. I consider my weight normal, Renit doesn't patronize me for being too thin, my scarlet hair has shine, my amber eyes are brighter. The fullness of my face is something I've never seen before, not when my cheeks have always been so sunken in from the lack of meals in Arego.

Not only do I look stronger, I feel it too. Renit hasn't forced me to wear the titanium band since our engagement celebration—a sign he's beginning to trust me. The band isn't something I wear proudly and walking through the capital without it, under Silas's watch, is a new bit of freedom. If we're lucky, I can test out my skills against an unfortunate robber.

Besides the power I have, there isn't much to say for physical strength. Someone bigger than me can still break me in half like a twig but at least now, I stand a chance.

As I lift the wide hood of my cloak over my head, shadowing my features and the tiny smile on my lips, I understand the person I've become. I am as dark as the royals in this castle, to my heart underneath. Two months ago, I was living in Arego and feeding new refugees the meals they needed—all of us needed—to survive.

I'm here with a dagger at my hip, hiding underneath the cover of night. For once, without Renit at my side. But he is always there, the nuummite necklace against my chest and in the crown behind me, sitting on its pillow, on the window ledge.

This kingdom will realize that I am not a princess to toy with. I will not bow down to their customs and make myself fit into their square-shaped desires. No, I will be my own person and if Renit wants to shove me down with them, I'll put up a fight. My parents didn't raise me to conform; they were the exact opposite of that. If I can't carry on their legacy with Arego, I will show the kingdom exactly who they raised me to be. And they will have to take me down if they don't like it.

Silas told me to meet him in the courtyard, underneath the shadow of a tree near the clearing. One he carved his name into when he was one hundred years old; the largest and oldest tree around. I know the one and sneak out of my chambers, shutting the door quietly behind me. This time, compared to the last when I escaped, I walk on my toes—down the stairs and into the hall.

I wait a few seconds: one, two, three, four, five. Renit doesn't open his door, and he doesn't stir in his chambers. He hasn't in hours, leading me to believe he's either sleeping or working too hard at his desk to care about what is going on outside in the hall. I slither down the hall like a snake, hugging close to the stone until I'm out one of the many small exits leading to the courtyard.

Silence shelters the normally bustling stone walkways and rounded hedges. I pass Celestine's flowerbeds but hardly garner a glance as I crouch low enough for my knees to burn and my thighs to ache. No one can see me, especially not the night guards. I never had to sneak around in Arego so this is new, I think each one of my movements over before I actually do it.

The parting clouds are my shield and the distant moon, my enemy. Faint light drips over the courtyard, fashioning dark shadows even dimmer than the sky itself. I blend in wonderfully and no one shouts for guards or for an intruder so, with one quick pop of my head over the hedges, I stuff my hands in my pockets and stroll easily over to the dark shadow waiting for me underneath the tree.

Like me, Silas wears various shades of black and the heavy hood conceals most of his features except for that wicked grin of excitement. I don't necessarily want to help him sway my sister but the crown prince never got to choose who he wanted to be with—and the same goes for Hallie. If they really can't stand each other, finding love elsewhere is the better alternative than ripping each other to shreds and taking the kingdom down with them.

"Are you ready?" He whispers.

I nod and he takes my hand, leading me through the thick brush and trees until we reach a weak spot in the fence. His leather gloves groan against mine and as he slithers through that small spot in the fence, he lets go just for a second before grabbing my hand again. As though if we're parted, there won't be any chance of me catching back up to him. Ever.

The air smells sweeter on this side of the fence. My breathing comes easier and somehow...I can see clearer. The hard lines of Silas's face are visible through his dark hood as he ushers me through the brush again until we're clear and on the cobblestone road leading into the capital itself.

I've never felt such a smooth surface underneath my boots. The stone is the same as what covers the courtyard but there is something different here—I'm not under the watchful eyes of the guards or Renit who never lets me go anywhere without someone following closely behind. With Silas, I can be myself.

The road winds until it reaches the bottom and spreads out like a waterfall into a lake, exchanging from a thin road to a wide street. The buildings closest to the castle are large; small castles themselves, with substantial glass windows and an orchestra of shutters and golden accents. Anyone from the slums is foolish not to look here for money.

I look up in awe at their intricate stone patterns, stained-glass windows, and sizable carved doors in perfectly pointed peaks. Lamps border the streets, mainly in front of those large estates, and their dull flame flickers shadows against the frames. Our own shadows cast on the quiet street around us—we're the only witches brave enough to come out this late when everything is already closed.

Silas never explained how to get into these closed stores.

"Over here is the communal park underneath my name," he says, pointing to a cutout in one street corner. Bordered by stone, the grass area is well-sized for towering pine trees and park benches for parents to sit on while their children create a ruckus; big enough for others to look on in disappointment.

"You donated a park to the capital?" I arch a brow at him and he blushes.

"What? Children like me and they said one of the most amazing things would be a park in the middle of the capital. So that's what I did." Although the night hangs over us, it doesn't dull the honor in Silas's smile or the beauty in the park. For a prince to do that, to take something out of his personal savings and craft it into something underneath the harsh, watchful eye of his father, shows how strong the next leader of Esaria will be. Soon enough, when his father finally rolls over and dies, the kingdom will have parks around every corner. And children won't be afraid to leave their homes; parents won't have to fear finding another refugee village to call home.

Silas points out many things to me: his favorite bakery, the local art studio he also donated underneath Hallie's name since she loves to paint, Renit's favorite clothing store (black fabrics in the window, no surprise) and lastly, the best training center for witches in the entire kingdom. The messes he has seen here by those unable to control their power is enough to level the entire street corner.

That's why the building is towards the edge of the capital, alone on the street, and surrounded by nothing but an open field in the back. If a witch of ground will ruin anything, it'll be what nature provides and not what his bloodline has built from the ground.

Silas takes in everything with such pride. He loves his home, his kingdom, and while I spent my entire life believing there was nothing good to come from the king, I realize now that is wrong. His son, the crown prince is the shining light in the black pit of despair the king has created in these streets.

Although the capital paints on a happy face, I know it's not genuine. Fear courses through these streets and in the buildings—from the slums into the open kingdom beyond. No one goes that far; the guard patrol is much stricter there. The king doesn't want anyone sneaking out to start a new refugee village. Anyone leaving must provide proper identification and reason why they are departing, and where they're going. Enough scuffles have broken out on borders from the mass of questioning, fights Renit has returned from himself. Brawls, actually, from citizens rising against the rules. With the cost of freedom in the kingdom comes close supervision. Anyone willing to go against that is as close a rebel as any of them.

It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I've spent two months in the castle, training myself and trying to master a process well beyond my age and I haven't had the chance to see what is beyond those iron gates. Everything in the capital is a new wonder, from the rows of flowerbeds in front of a gardener's shop—Celestine's dream—to the small metal tables painted to look like rainbows, sitting gingerly next to a café and across the street from another art studio. Smaller than the one Hallie's name is on but still impressive.

Life lingers despite the citizens sleeping soundly in their homes and the shops closed. Even in the silence, the pulsing heart of the people in Mailan is still present and I want, more than anything, to see what the streets are like in the daylight hours. In every part of the day, in the morning when the shops are just beginning to open underneath the rising sun and in the bustling afternoon, the time for parents to shop for food and supplies while taking their kids by the hand so they don't run through the streets—into oncoming traffic of horses tugging carriages over the cobblestone. The faint sound of hooves clopping rings in my ears.

And I want to see the nightlife, the taverns playing music loud enough to hear four blocks over and the restaurants—serving food until the last customer departs with his wife for their anniversary. I can see all of those scenarios in my head, in the silence of the night, and know there is more to this place than what is on the surface. I see what Silas sees, the freedom beyond the fear and the beauty—shrouded by the king's hate.

I'm nearly too busy taking in every detail to remember what we came here for. A gift for Celestine. She never had enough in her life, that I know, so any gift is acceptable but I don't tell Silas that. There are so many things he could have gotten her, all things she would accept with the biggest heart of anyone in the castle.

The gift she would truly look for doesn't pertain to gardening, that's all she has, but another one of her few passions comes into play. My sister, the girl who grew up with nothing but her father's pride, loves books more than anything in the world. The books in Arego were hardly worth anything, merely pages missing and smudged ink over the damp sheets after they were dropped in a puddle.

She read the same books over and over again until she was so tired of them; she had the ability to recite every word on a page with her eyes shut. The most exciting part of the markets for her was discovering new books, if there was any at all. When she came home disappointed with an empty basket except for a few apples and new sewing fabrics, I knew she found nothing to look forward to.

Shortly after, she picked up a familiar book she'd read a hundred times or sat at her desk and created a book herself. That was her escape into another world, that was Celestine's freedom in a small refugee village where everyone was trying to discover their purpose.

Gifts for Celestine are endless but the treasures closest to her heart are the best. Books and writing utensils. Journals she can fill with stories of romance and adventure. The girl. The prince. The crown and the betrayal. Those are all stories she has written before and for someone with such a gentle hand with gardening, she has a strong fist for writing in those leather journals of hers with only a few pages. Scraps, after the refugees brought them from wherever they came from. Anything to make a coin off of.

I tell Silas that, explaining all of Celestine's desires for writing and reading. His eyes light up with excitement as he grabs my hand, nearly dragging me down a dark ally and out onto another street filled with an alternative row of white stone buildings. A cat scurries across the street and overhead, a wooden sign creaks in the breeze.

The sign is the shape of a book. We've come to the right place. I pull on the metal door handle, rusted with age, and find it locked. "How do you suppose we get in there?" I ask. The large glass window in the building's front displays rows and rows of books with faint artwork over the cover and the titles carved onto the spines.

"Have you ever heard of a witch of transport?" His eyes are wild with amusement. I've never seen such life in his eyes, not even at our engagement ceremony when he was drunk off his ass.

I cringe. "You're going to break in?"

He takes my hand and moves me as close to the door as possible before looping an arm around my waist. "No, I will not break in, we will merely leap from one place to the next in a matter of seconds. Close your eyes."

"I really don't think this is a good idea." I move to step away but his hand tightens. Instead of waiting for me to close my eyes, he shields a hand over them and before I can reach up to remove his callused fingers, the air shifts and my body lurches until it's firmly on the ground again and the chirping of crickets and creaking of that sign is now nothing more than a whisper through the solid surface.

Silas removes his hand from my eyes and slips past. We're inside the shop. A witch of transport can jump between two short spaces, like standing outside the door and then standing inside, with little to no effort. I've seen the power before, one of the refugees was a witch of transport and he liked to show off—moving from one side of the village to the next to force the children to chase him and discover where he jumped next.

Moonlight streams in from the glass window and sheds light on the front counter, rounded with a cushioned chair for the shop owner to sit. In front, for the children and anyone in need of a study break, are small, square tables with four chairs surrounding and blown out candles sitting in the middle. Everything is so...organized.

I follow Silas into the dark shop, not wanting him to leave me behind, and find myself face to face with bookshelf after bookshelf. The rows close in on each other and the air suffocated with the smell of leather and paper mixing as one. Each stack is stuffed into the shelf, there is no room for new books. The displays are stocked to the rim with novels and history books on Esaria and distant kingdoms.

Everything is mixed; there is no order, but there is chaos. And some might say there is order in chaos. I don't think so, I couldn't find the book I wanted in here if I spent the entire night looking.

Along the back wall, a ladder leading to the highest shelf sits on wheels. Whoever owns the store had been cleaning the top as half of the books are still missing—and sitting in a stack on the ground at the base of the ladder.

One by one, Silas pulls books off the shelf, hardly looking at the titles.

"What are you doing?" I hiss into the dark.

"I'm gathering books for Celestine, grab some." He jerks his chin to the stuffed shelf I stand in front of.

"You can't grab random books; at least take something she will enjoy reading." I examine the titles, hardly any I recognize, but take some that sound like adventure and a few with the touch of romance Celestine drools over.

Silas exposes one of the titles to me. "I am. This one is an adventure book and this one—" he pulls out another book "—is about a woman falling in love with a prince. I'll call it our love story if I decide to be bold enough." He blushes and returns the two books to the growing stack in his bulging arms. "I read too, I've read most of these so I know what they're about."

While I spent most of my life watching Celestine read the same ten books repeatedly, Silas has gone through this bookstore and picked through to find the bare layer of dust underneath.

Instead of arguing with him about what to choose, I pick out a few books for myself and Celestine. I'm in in need of romance as well. We find ourselves at the front counter and Silas fishes through his pocket and throws three gold coins onto the wooden surface. I raise a brow but he ignores my pointed look.

"We forgot writing journals," he whispers.

Before I can stop him, Silas scurries away and picks out three leather journals, thicker than I've ever seen. The pages are clean, none of them are missing, and there is plenty of available room to write on the crisp white surface. Celestine could fit a real story in here instead of the condensed versions she worked so hard on.

Silas throws another gold coin down for extra measure and catches my wide eyes. "I pay well to keep this store open."

I snort. "Obviously."

He takes my hand again, the stack of books wobbling on his arm, and I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid whatever his magic does to get us from inside the shop to back out into the street. The books strain my arms but I don't care. As we leave the capital, I take everything in one last time for I don't know when the next occasion is that I'll get the chance to see it.

All of this will be a blur in the dark tomorrow but for now, I can enjoy the smells of lingering desserts baking from earlier today and the aroma of these books in my arms, freshly written and stacked on those shelves. Celestine will be more than pleased to see these when her birthday comes around.

Silas and I slip back through the gap in the fence and sneak through the courtyard—hard to do with books—until we reach the cracked open door to his chambers. He kicks it open with his foot, careful to make no noise, and we hide the stacks of books underneath his bed.

I take some for myself, excited to have a night with something other than the silence and depart when Silas unclasps his cloak. Now it really is late and if I don't go to bed soon, I will be exhausted for training tomorrow. At least I don't have kitchen duty anymore, Renit finally let me off the hook with that.

The stairs up to my chambers make my knees wobble but I keep going, all the way into the quiet, moonlit room. I shrug off my cloak and lay it on the edge of the bed, ready to get started on one of the books when something shifts in the corner. I watch them out of the corner of my eye. My heart thunders in my chest as their dark figure sits on the windowsill and twists my crown in their hands.

If I run, I might make it to Renit's chambers faster than they can move. And if I'm lucky, Renit won't hate me enough to let me die. No, I can't go to him every single time I have a problem. Without my titanium band, I can fight on my own without him there to scrutinize me.

Slowly, I remove my dagger from its sheath—ready to attack the unseen threat of the castle—when Renit chuckles. It's a sickening sound as wrath is laced within the evil surface. He stands and tosses the crown aside. I've seen Renit angered before and I've seen him want to kill me but this is a new low. He knows I left.

The books sitting on my bed are merely an afterthought as he strolls over to me, crosses his arms over his chest, and says, "You have some explaining to do."