ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

Imogen slams the closet door in front of me. Her orders? Go in the passages.

I've known about the secret passages for a few nights now, but I haven't found the opportunity to explore them for several reasons. One, I was preoccupied with Imogen. Two, there's no fucking light down there for any sense of direction. Three, the same as number one. Imogen.

The reason for my over-extended stay in Imogen's bed isn't that complicated to explain either. Have you seen the crap I've slept on for the past ten years? Gods, her bed was a fucking cloud. Every bone and muscle in my body released an audible "sigh" at the feel of that mattress beneath me, eased by the constant warmth from the girl in my arms. You bet I'm running up this castle to do it again tomorrow night—if I haven't fucked up my chances by then.

Last night was about Imogen, but with the daylight dawns my real purpose for all this: it's about Aspen.

I need to start navigating these hidden dark corridors. If Imogen won't be my guide, (not that I'd ask, but she'd draw her suspicions), then I need to start mentally mapping these routes myself. I'll begin with just a small area, perhaps just the next corridor or so. From what I reckon from my castle map, the hidden room that Gareth longs to enter isn't that far from Imogen's bedroom. It could be as simple as taking the next corner. Or worse, these corridors could be a labyrinth in need of being deciphered.

I start my way down the hallways, using my touch against the stone walls for directions. When the corridor splits into a turn, I mark it down in my mind. A left.

I know Imogen told me to wait for her father to leave, but I bet I can start navigating the nearby rooms and be back in her closet by the time her father finishes speaking with her.

If not, I reckon she'll hunt me down. It's not the first time.

Hell knows how long I wander in this direction, but my surroundings begin to change from stone walls to wooden boards. Small shafts of light break through cracks in the wall, just enough to allow me to observe what lies on the other side. It's clear this corridor isn't an entrance into the room, but rather a bridge between two rooms.

I narrow my gaze through a beam of light. The dining room. A large cherrywood table stretches across the vast room. Chairs line up both edges,with one elegant navy throne at the far end of the table. Golden goblets and cutlery match every large plate—each one mimicking the setup next to it. Two servants place fold navy napkins at the far end, their voices almost audible in such low whispers.

Gareth mentioned some sort of event for the evening, and I only wonder if Imogen will be in attendance. If she is, then she won't be a distraction for me. Half of me would be relieved that she's not hovering over my shoulder, while the other half will wait for her return with full obedience.

I just have to keep my brain focused when my heart keeps pulling me away from my priorities: Aspen.

I want to see Aspen again. I long to hold her when tears meet her eyes, or sing a lullaby on my lips when she can't sleep. I want to reforge all those memories that a brother and sister have that were stolen from me, stolen by him—the man who caused my family to tear apart.

Yet, Imogen asks me to stay. And I do.

Until one day, I won't.

Instead of pursuing onward, I retreat back in the direction of Imogen's bedroom. Hell knows how much time I've wasted so far. Once I enter back into the darkness, I drag my fingertip against the wall, waiting for the intersection to make the turn.

I barrel up stone steps towards and heave open the trap door without making a noise, and enter into a closet.

Only this closet remains wide open.

This isn't Imogen's bedroom.

It's a bedroom—yes, but nothing in here belongs to Imogen. Nothing at all. In fact, this room almost remains vacant due to the layer of ashy dust building on top of the wardrobes and cabinets. Colossal windows span the far wall, but they lack a balcony, and the velvety curtains remain half closed. The bed is made; quilts and sheets crisp without a wrinkle. On top of the covers lies a pile of immaculately folded navy tunics and robes, and—

Is that...?

A crown, one that glitters with gold. As the sunlight dawns through the curtains and rests on the headpiece, I gravitate toward the treasure. Sapphire gemstones etch into the golden frame, and diamonds decorate the intricate swirls that twine around it. I take the crown in my hands, analyzing the details closer. There's a name etched into the inner band of gold.

Ruslan Marius Navarro Mironescu.

Mironescu is the royal name of Lagulon, that I know due to my studies in Adorid before I entered the royal corps. Except, all that remains of the royal bloodline is King Orion and Imogen. No one else. After Queen Adirya died years ago, she left behind one daughter: Imogen.

There has never been an account of anyone named Ruslan.

The hairs on my arms prick at the sensation of another presence. I turn, only to catch the physical embodiment of moonlight poising an arrow straight at my chest. Her brows knit with a furious petrified furrow, her bow trembling within her fingers. I told myself Imogen would never kill. It's not in her nature.

But this girl will release her grip and send that arrow slicing deep into my heart without hesitating.

"Put the crown down," her voice orders.

Gods, the authority in her tone sends a chill through my bloodstream. Wherever I am, I've crossed a line.

A big one.

"Who's Ruslan?" I ask, keeping my voice calm as an attempt to ease her.

"Put it down before I summon the guards," she grits. Tears sting the edges of those grey moons she has for eyes. "Please, Tobin. I don't want to shoot."

Unlike before, I know she will shoot.

I move as if my limbs were caught in molasses, setting the crown down on the pile of folded tunic and robes. Not once do my eyes leave from Imogen's arrow-sharp gaze. One night, she called me a godsend, and I wonder if she sees the truth about me now. I'm no hero here to save her. I'm just a thief with one job: to find a way into the locked room.

As she lowers her bow, I see the truth canter in her irises.

I've found the one location I was never supposed to find: the hidden room. She trusted me enough to be alone in the passages, and that trust is what I fear I've broken.

But the room is just a bedroom—locked and guarded to conceal the kingdom's biggest secret that fears to be exposed. Who the hell is Ruslan Mironescu, and why is his name kept hidden from the world?

Imogen grips my wrist and heaves me towards the closet, pushing me into pitch black corridors. The moment we're deep enough into the dark stone passages, she unleashes her whirlwind fury. If only I could see that fire in her burn in front of me. I can't see a damn thing.

"You bastard!" she cries with a crack of sorrow echoing off the walls. "That's what you keep coming here for, isn't it?"

"You called me a petty thief," I jeer. "I had to prove you wrong."

"I told you not to do anything stupid!"

"Stupid comes in the job description for a petty thief," I tease, only to feel her groan in frustration. She's not in the mood for a little playful banter.

"You don't understand," she seethes. "Knowing what is inside that room will send you to the gallows, and—" She swallows a heavy breath, and the exhale of it fans against my skin. "Gods, Tobin... I can't do that to you."

Small brushes of her nightdress caress my fingertips, but I refrain from giving her a touch. I've betrayed her when I needed to build her certitude for me. I should've stayed at the entryway to the catacombs, waiting for her to guide me out, but I can't return home to Aspen if I don't take the risk.

I did what I had to do.

But fuck, it's Imogen we're talking about.

This princess snuck herself beneath my skin, and do I dare say that she's weaved her way into my heart. Each night she conquers another vessel, another atrium. I let her take more and more of me—willingly, until I did what I had in order to stop what my soft heart began.

Imogen's soft palms cup my jaw, guilt brewing in my stomach. I just want to see her, to read her mind instead of hearing it outloud. "You know nothing about any of this."

But I do know.

"You will forget his name," she continues, but the name is all I seem to think about. Ruslan. "You will forget everything that you've seen this morning."

"What did you expect me to do?" I finally manage to say. "I have shit on the line as well." Aspen.

"Then you have to keep this a secret," she steps close, her vanilla scent taking control of my rationality. "Else I will hunt you down. You'll run into the woods thinking you've escaped, but we both know I can find you, Tobin."

She's so close, and yet I can't see her defined features. "You're the only one who can."

"This time my arrow won't miss your flesh."

"You're a weapon to me," my hoarse low breaks, my senses saturated with her. "You will stab me in the heart, won't you?"

Her breath falters. "If I have to."

"And you will."

She releases a melodic hum, a symphony to my ears. Her next question catches me off guard.

"What are your intentions with me, Tobin?" she whispers. I feel her fingertip fall down a tendon in my throat, then over my sternum. "Why do you bother to come back when your mind is set elsewhere?"

She pushes me, ushering me up against the wall until there's no where else to go by through her vanilla entrapment. I expect an arrowhead to be pressed against my pulse point, ready to spill blood on these floors. No one would know. No one would be able to see the blood unless they had torchlight.

Instead, a hot caress of her lips brushes up my throat, and I swallow at the blissful heat.

"Trust is a precious little thing," she breathes each featherlight word against my skin. "You know you have mine. I let you in my room, sleep in my bed, walk down these halls—it's not something I give out easily."

"It's not something I give out either," I say, and I don't. I've been isolated for ten years, and Imogen's the first to capture me, to tame me, to let me into someone else's life.

She kisses below my ear, and my restraint from touching her disintegrates to dust with a rough tender groan. I weave a hand around her lower back, the silk of her nightdress thin as I feel her revel in the touch. She's more than a distraction. She's a weakness, and it guilts me to know that she might be the reason I fall to my knees in the end.

"Tell me I have your word," she begs. "Tell me that everything you learned today will be kept hidden forever."

She places another kiss on my neck. If this is seduction to get me to comply, it's fucking working. In the darkness, all I know is her touch and voice. My brain hardwires itself to seek her out, to urge her closer.

"Damn it," I whisper in a cutthroat growl, then place a kiss on her crown. "You have my word."

"Good," then she pulls away, taking my hand in her own, leaving me to feel like a top tier asshole.

She thinks I'm after the crown—and believe me, I'd love to be in possession of that wad of gold—but all I needed to know was how to get into the secret room. Now I just need to figure out who the hell Ruslan is, and hopefully that's the information Gareth needs.

Then maybe the royal courts will pardon me from my exile. Maybe the king will look down on me for fulfilling my task, and then let me reunite with Aspen.

Maybe, just maybe.

At the expense of shattering Imogen.

Imogen escorts me down the secret corridors, neither of us speaking a word. Yet, Ruslan's presence becomes the unspoken message between us. This new information nearly tears me to shreds, because it's clear the Lagulon royals have lies hidden underneath their robes.

I'm going to break Imogen. I have too, if the result lets me see Aspen. I own her trust and her companionship, and I fear I have more: her fucking heart. All of those are nothing to be tampered with, yet here I am. A thief meddling in a life he doesn't belong in.

Because if I break that princess, her little petty thief might break to shards as well.

── •✧• ──

What do you think happened to Imogen's secret brother? Only time will tell the truth. Next up, there's a certain king you haven't met yet, and he's about to arrive in the next chapter. Prepare your tomatoes to throw at his face.

Make sure you vote, comment, & read! I have a few busy days coming up as Christmas approaches, so I'll try my best to gift you all with updates.