My fingers are near freezing in the middle of the night as I wring out the cloth in the bucket of water, the source for most of this cold, and place the damp fabric against Renit's forehead. At the relief, he closes his eyes and shifts himself—with the little strength he has—against the wall. His back is starting to ache with the lack of movement.

But he's keeping himself alive and that's the only thing I can hope for in a time like this. Fosux hasn't stirred as rumors of the missing prince begin to swirl and there is no sign of his father or an additional onslaught of guards coming to look for him. After all, this is the place we were headed. No one would expect to look here and find him down in the dungeons. We must play this smart—if we give ourselves away, Bren will kill him and Tesha will have no problem obliterating me.

"You need to eat," I whisper so the night isn't disturbed.

The only source of heat we have is a candle, left eternally flickering by Bren, on the outside of the cell. His flame is bright, original, and flickers shadows against the side of my face as I scoot over to Renit and tuck my legs underneath me.

I tear off a piece of bread and he groans, shifting his head away so I don't have access to his mouth. "Renit, eat." I shove the chunk of bread towards him again and he clamps his mouth shut like a child. I frown.

With his eyes closed, the cloth heating against his fever-ridden forehead, Renit murmurs, "I'm not hungry. I need to sleep." He moves to roll himself away and I clamp my hand on his arm to drag him back. For the first time, I'm stronger than he is. Those circumstances are not what I hope for.

"Please, just a few bites. You might feel better." I outstretch that piece of stale bread and although he frowns at it, eyes a dull grey instead of their bright silver, his lips part to allow the bread in. Relieved, I give him that piece and watch him carefully as he chews. The last thing we need is for him to choke after surviving what he already has. Much more than I've been part of.

Through her ways of spying, climbing from tree to tree to listen to the overseers in their warm cabins, Tesha hasn't heard anything about the rebellion or the prince. I've been waiting anxiously for a hint of something, there's no telling how long we'll be here and if the nights are counted correctly, I haven't felt freedom in three days.

Bren knew the only thing I ever wanted was freedom. Through the kingdom, through my power, through every aspect of my immortal life. I've wanted the freedom the princes have and those loyal to him. That was one thing Renit was never able to understand—my desire for liberty.

The one person I fell back on was Bren, knowing he was aware of what I desired to consider my young life worth something in these years. Every day is one I'll never get back. When we found ourselves knee deep in those conversations, speaking about life and immortality, that was the one fact he fell back on. We are immortal and our lives will stretch much farther than these days.

At one point, I looked forward to my future in Arego and passing on the village to my future children—whenever that time came. Ever since I found myself in that castle, I haven't thought much past the next week or even where I'll be in a month. Fosux may be days from the capital and the castle but the king's presence still causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.

He swarms my nightmares, hurting the people I care about. I hope Celestine is all right underneath his wrath, if he's lost his mind because of the threat to the throne. If he even cares about Renit in the first place, not much has changed. I can hope for the best but...I'll expect the worst when it comes to my sister. The king might blame me and in turn, take out his anger on her.

When I manage to sleep tonight, that'll likely be another nightmare. Celestine in his hands, begging and pleading for her life. But he never grants their wishes, as much as my imagination might want. I've woken up in a sweat too many times to count.

I continue feeding Renit bits of bread until we move onto the lukewarm stew that Bren delivered after the prince fell asleep. Squirrel meat and a watery broth mixed with carrots and potatoes. It's not the finest meal and doesn't compare to what Renit has relished on in the castle but this will have to do for now.

With a careful touch, I spoon feed him bites as much as he groans for me to stop. His strength is nearly diminished, the lowest I've ever seen him, so his only chance of fighting the infection in his shoulder is to eat. At least he hasn't vomited yet.

A trail of broth trickles down his chin and I wipe it off with my sleeve. "I'll wring the cloth again," I say to no one in particular. Words to fill the silence are much more comforting than having Renit fear in his mind that he won't pull through this.

The cold water chills my fingers to the bone but I've stopped caring. Instead, all I can think about is getting him out of here—if that is possible. My hope diminishes day by day.

With my back turned to him, hunched over the bucket, Renit clears his throat. "Why do you care?" He asks hoarsely. Each word he says is more strain. My hands slow as I wait for him to continue.

When he doesn't, the sputtering of that candle being the only sound, I turn towards him. Pressing the cloth against his forehead, I ask, "What do you mean?"

"Why do you...why are you tending to me?"

I pull back, smirking at him. "You're injured, Renit. It's my job to tend to you." Almost jokingly, I add, "You're not allowed to die here."

"That's not what I mean," the prince mumbles, shaking his head ever-so gently. His dark eyelashes flutter closed, revealing sweat-beaded eyelids. I think that's the end of our conversation as I drag the cloth along his cheek to clean bits of dust from his cheek. Anything to get rid of the musky straw smell. Then, he says, "After all I've done. I—my father and I ruined your life."

I take in the hard planes of his cheekbones, the stubble around his jawline. He's always been clean-shaven but for the first time, the prince is showing the warrior on the other side of the flesh. He leans into my touch, simultaneously moving with the cloth dragging over his brow. I've been close to Renit before, we've shared special moments—hardly anything—but this is the nearest we've ever been. If I wanted to, I could kiss his forehead without straining to reach.

Searching my mind for those answers as to why I ever bothered to help him after what he did, I can't find what I'm looking for. Renit has always been harsh in a way I couldn't understand his personality was never that—his own. People aren't born cruel, the same goes for witches. Something has shaped us to be this way, the same way someone can be generous—Renit can be swirling with rage.

Instead of giving him the answer I've been looking for, I give him one that might suffice. "Everyone has faults and...occurrences that take place in their lives that make them the way they are." Renit's eyes slowly open, heavy-lidded, and his stare bores into my own. I wonder if he's as aware of our proximity as I am. "Even if you're the way you are by blunder, you still have the chance to be a moral witch."

The corner of his lips tugs up into a smile, the most he can muster right now. "I'm honored, no one deems me worthy of improvement." As quickly as that smile arrives, it disappears back into the normal, tight-lipped frown.

I think that to be a decent end of the conversation. My own eyes are beginning to feel the tugs of exhaustion and Renit's thigh will make for a comfortable pillow, considering he's been using me as one these past few nights. The wound to the back of his leg is one they healed immediately, otherwise he would have lost too much blood.

I wring out the cloth one last time as I presume Renit to be drifting off to sleep. "Darlene."

I snort. "I think you're starting to go crazy. My name isn't Darlene," I respond. Shifting on my knees, I turn back to him and find no hint of amusement on his face.

"Her name..." Renit swallows. "Her name was Darlene."