ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

I meant every word I said. I will start a war for Imogen, because as these final weeks go by, I see that golden light that shines inside of her become nothing but dust.

There's one week left until she will marry Leighton, and I've done what Aspen told me to do. I've been her backbone when her body longs to crumble. I do my best to revive her night after night, to let that fire that burns inside of her consume her whole.

Even tonight as she huddles next to me as we lay on the covers of her bed, staring upward at the intrinsically carved ceiling above us, she mutters on about wedding details that I know she doesn't give a single damn about. It's a distraction for her, a way for her to forget about the hell she's walking straight into.

Imogen traces her finger in swirls against my bare chest. "Then they made me do these horrendous dance lessons with Leighton so we won't make fools of ourselves at the ceremony."

I grunt, not wanting to think about the wedding. In all honesty, I'm surprised Imogen finds herself even the slightest bit indulgent in the idea of it. Like I said, it must be her way of distracting herself.

"The asshole can't dance," she grumbles. "You're so much better than him."

"I'm better at a lot of things."

Now, all I want is that excuse of a king dead.

It's a feat I've been warned not to do on my own, but there's only seven nights until she's gone to Adorid forever, and I need to at least try. My father drew his sword on Leighton once before and failed, but he never knew how to navigate the castle in such stealth that not even a guard bats an eyelash in my direction. They can't catch me before it's too late.

If King Orion won't attempt to save his daughter, I will. I'll go down with bloodied fists and gnarled teeth, clawing my way straight to Leighton's bedroom chamber just to drive my sword deep into his heart.

I've never killed, but I will if it means sparing Imogen.

My Imogen.

Mine.

"Tobin?" she breathes as she kisses my shoulder.

I hum, lowering my gaze from the ceiling to meet her grey moons. This past month of getting absolutely nowhere has driven me to absolute possessive insanity. How can I let such an angelic being wander into the darkness with no one by her side? Time needs to pause itself, to stop so I can live forever in these final whispering moments, but gods.

Fuck.

I don't know what to do, and time has run out. I have to take matters into my own hands. I can't waste another minute or hour, and yet I can't let Imogen know of what I'm about to do to her future husband.

I will finish what my father started, and I will kill Leighton.

I exhale a heavy breath as Imogen nestles her cheeks into my skin. "There's still time to fix this," I say, hoping to persuade that light in her heart to burn brighter.

She swallows, but her voice remains hollow of any emotion. "It feels like there's none left."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" I stroke a hand through her silky blonde hair, combing it from her eyes as she gazes up to meet mine. "No matter where I go I'm a wanted man with a death wish hanging over me."

"You won't die, because I won't let them hurt you," Imogen promises so sweetly, but she won't be able to overpower the wrath of Leighton. There's nothing in her power that will change the fate I have set before me. "Not if they want an arrow to their skull. I can't... I can't bear knowing you'd be in danger."

"I'm already in danger," I grit, trying not to let my inner fury engulf the entirety of me. "I always have been. It's you I'm worried about."

"Tobin," she presses her lips into my chest, blessing me with the warmest of amorous kisses. Each kiss descends lower and lower—my chest, my abdomen, that v-muscle that guides her lower—until her mouth is a goddamn distraction. "Don't worry about me."

But I do, and it doesn't stop as long as I'm enraptured into her delectable vanilla scent and embraced by porcelain soft skin.

"Gods," I curse, then lose myself in the pleasures of Imogen.

She's torn my mind in two. To save her, I need to strategize every detail until every second is immaculately accounted for. Yet, if this is the end, I can't waste my time with something destined to deteriorate. I need to exist in these fleeting moments we've built for ourselves, our threadbare skeleton of a marriage.

So as the world turns to absolute shit and falls apart around us, I make love to her. It's something that's become a habit for us, night after night. Together, we're never satisfied. Even as the sun kisses the horizon before dawn, I find myself entwined with her, neither of us slowing down or letting go. The withering time around us doesn't seem to help the cause. Neither of us want to leave the room, let alone the bed... unless it's to fuck against the wall or vanity or desk or by the hearth (or any surface available. Trust me, we've done it).

Tonight is no different. When we're finished, Imogen slips off into a deep sleep, her body serene as she spoons against the heat of mine. At least one of us is getting rest, because my mind suddenly hardwires itself to my latest schemes.

I know Leighton has been living within this castle for the last four months, taking up space in the guest wing. I know there are corridors woven within the walls that are meant to be hidden passageways, so there must be a way to sneak into his room. He'd be unguarded, soundly asleep only to be poached by the son of a man who attempted to end his life before.

In that moment, Leighton will remember every whip lash that struck my body, because I'll make sure he feels the same burning pain. I'll make his descent to hell slow, stagnant, and bloody.

I kiss Imogen's temple, only to have her sink into a heavier sleep with a satisfied hum.

"You will burn me," I whisper against her.

Not just burn, but scorch until she leaves me with the mark of her heat.

With my princess fast asleep, I roll out of bed, ringing a hand over my face. My gaze trails over to her desk, the place where an immaculate map of the castle rests upon its surface. She sketched every corner of this place to the slightest of miniscule details with just a piece of graphite, and now I get to use that same map to my advantage. I need to know how to get into the guest wing.

I reach for my clothes, redressing myself and restrapping my scabbard. I have seven days to figure out how I'm going to take down Leighton, which means I have seven days to find the best way to Leighton's bedroom.

If there was a route to Ruslan's room, there must be one to Leighton's as well.

I take one last look at Imogen. She rests with such an incomparable tranquility that seems so unlike her. She should be ignited with rage, just raving at the idea of what's to come.

But somehow, despite how fucking chaotic this all is, she's found peace.

Before dawn chases me away, I slip into the passageway entrance in her closet, and descend down into the bleak opaque shadows to start charting my bitter revenge.

Because in seven days, our fates will never be the same again.

── •✧• ──

This is a two part chapter, so expect more of the schemes of our beloved thief! Also, I want to apologize for the shortened chapter, but part two of the Tobin escapades will be dropping as soon as it possbily can, which I hope to deliever ASAP!

Tell me your thoughts on what's happening so far! I'd love to know! Also, feel free to vote, comment, and share (I'd greatly appreciate it!)