ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

The storm hits in full force as I wander through the castle courtyards. Due to the storm, the guards' routes are all fucked up so they can avoid the rain. It could be used to my benefit, but it only makes it impossible to sense out the blindspots.

I find shelter from the rain at an opening by one of the watchtowers. Between the stone walls and towers lies a road laced with stairs and ladders to reach the top of the structures. Its a whole hidden highway designed for the guards to move efficiently. Golden torchlight flickers from above, but there's no way they can see me down below unless they descend downward.

I close my eyes—relieved that I got inside (even if it's just an outer wall and tower) without being speared to death. I'm soaked from the storm. Mask. Clothes. Boots. Skin. Tonight's caper won't be long unless I get moving.

Now what the hell do I do?

A shiver runs through my blood like ice. When I open my eyes, the physical embodiment of moonlight somehow has tracked me down and stands in front of me, equipped with her bow and arrow. She places a finger to my lips against the dark mask, hushing me before something utterly stupid and profane leaves my mouth. Instead, Imogen laces her fingers into my clothes and hauls me out of the opening.

We run through the dense downpour, only now her hand slips down to mine. Her touch feels soft, like a brush of dandelion fluff. Not once have we spoken a word, but I'm learning that Imogen's no force to be reckoned with. Whatever the hell she's doing, it's keeping me alive.

She pushes me inside an empty armory filled with silver shields, swords, and a plethora of other weapons that would probably kill me. At least we're out of the goddamn rain.

She lights a candle. The single flame glows against her serene features. Rainwater drips down her cheeks and the curls of her honey gold hair, and the cloak clings to her like a heavy second skin. A playful giggle escapes her, and my lips curve on instinct, like I could stop myself from such a beautiful sound.

"Did you want to get caught?" she laughs.

"That only took you thirty fucking seconds," I try to keep my expression serious, but she has a way of sneaking under my skin.

"You were going to get yourself killed anyway," she huffs. "The map you were using was ridiculously inaccurate."

"And you expect any better from me?"

I knew it. I knew she took Gareth's map from me, probably when she pinned me up against the wall with her arrows. In my naive weakness when I gazed into her mirror of allure, I lost track of my surroundings. She charmed me, and she used that spell to steal the map. Well, I'd like to think it went like that, when in reality I was just distracted.

"So what have you learned from this?" she smirks.

I cross my arms across my chest. Her gaze flickers down to my biceps, studying my movements like a wolf tracking its prey. For the first time ever, I hate to think that I am the prey.

When I don't answer, Imogen fills in the blanks. "Well, I learned that you're a predictable petty thief."

"I am not—" I hold my tongue and shake my head. "What the fuck do you want now?"

She hesitates, and I can see those moonlit grey eyes processing what to tell me. At the same time, I'm met with a drowning scent of sweet vanilla. That damn sweet vanilla. I step towards her, basking in it more than I should. I need to keep my mind focused on sneaking inside the castle, but now I'm wired fully to outwit this princess.

Damn her.

"It's like a game, Tobin," she speaks, her voice edging on a delectable tease. "Cat and mouse. I hunt you down, and then I let you go, and we do this all over again tomorrow night."

"Who says I'm coming back tomorrow?" I rouse.

She steps close to me, so close that our noses nearly brush. Although our clothes remain saturated from the rain, the heat of her skin radiates through. She has this way of taking control of me, all with one smile that beams like sunshine.

"Because you want something," she whispers, her voice laced with danger.

At once, her hand presses to my chest and she shoves me back up against the wall. I let myself stumble backwards, only because I find her determination to outwit me so damn cute. There's a slight flare to her nose as she pulls an arrow from her quiver, pressing the sharp tip to the pulse point in my neck to intimidate me. There's a fire in her that burns. I grin at her ignition, that she—my dimming moonbeam—shines brighter than the candle in this armory.

It's cute that she thinks she can outsmart me.

"Why do you come here, Tobin?" she breathes. "What do you want?"

The tip of the arrow presses against my throat as I crane my head up. "Lower the arrow, princess."

"Please," she begs.

I keep my lips sealed. She's attempting to get me to break, but I know she'll never kill enough for the answer. It's not in her nature.

Instead, I take her by the waist and spin her around. My sword flies from its sheath as I press her body up against the wall where mine once splayed. Her arrow flies out of her grasp, clanging onto the armory floors.

I lift the blade to her throat. Our eyes meet, our faces closer than they should.

Vanilla. Sweet, sweet vanilla.

Imogen remains strangely calm despite the blade held against her throat. She lifts one hand up to my forearm, clasping her dainty fingers around my wrist. She doesn't pry my hold away, but rather rubs her thumb in soothing circles against the sensitive skin. With her other, she removes the mask that conceals my features. I let her unravel me until my face is all she can see.

There's a brief pause to her demeanor, a flicker crossing those grey irises. She takes me in with a shallow deep breath, then exhales.

She drags a palm against my barren jaw. "Clean shaven," she mumbles to herself.

"A beard gets itchy with the mask."

She breaks a smile, even when my sword is still perched to cut her throat. "And you have very kind eyes. Has anyone told you that?"

I blink, almost baffled by the compliment. "Stop looking at my eyes."

"How can I not?" She cups the side of my head, dragging the tender pad of her thumb underneath my eyes.

Her touch descends downward, brushing against my lips, and then trailing down my adam's apple. Her index finger slices a line against my neck, almost mirroring the place where the blade rests against her own throat. Although her gaze falls lower, mine remains locked to her, and how can I look away? Her eyes are a beautiful storm trapped within the body of a princess. Yes, she may be fire and moonlight, but she's also the sea and air. Just a glimpse of her, and I learn that this princess is everything.

Her fingers clasp onto a golden chain around my neck. "You didn't sell it."

"No, I didn't."

"I told you to sell it. I let you steal it in order for you to sell it."

"The truth is, princess, I didn't steal it. You gave it to me, and therefore, I can't sell it."

She frowns. "It wasn't supposed to be a gift."

I grin. "Can you at least tell me I look handsome in it?"

Imogen's gaze narrows into two daggers, but it's adorable. She's adorable. Irresistibly so, and it makes me want to pull my hair out. All I want to do is pester her enough to put her on edge, just to see that nose crinkle and her stormy grey eyes brew in indignation.

At once, she raises her head as the sword applies deeper pressure to her neck. Imogen grasps my elbow to back down. "Tobin?" she breathes. A wave of vanilla overcomes me, and I hum at the sweet scent. "Tobin, let go."

I retract, lowering my sword from her throat and returning it to its scabbard.

Imogen draws a hand to where I placed the sword on her throat, but hides it when she notices me watching her. For a second, I wonder if I cut her. I never intended to actually hurt her, and I'd be damned if I actually did. A small part of me likes Imogen.

Just a small part.

Torchlight flickers from outside the armory doors.

Guards.

I open my mouth to speak, but Imogen already moves two steps ahead of me. She snuffs out the candle and laces her fingers between mine. The touch sends my blood rushing.

"Come with me," she whispers against the shell of my ear, then pulls me deeper into the armory. I follow, helpless under the spell of her moonlight and vanilla.

She pulls open an old cellar built deep within the armory floor. She releases my hand, stepping inside. The darkness behind her figure swallows her silhouette, and yet somehow, she still illuminates the shadows. She calls for me in such a tender whisper, an almost inaudible "Tobin", and I chase after her.

When I enter into the darkness, the cellar doors lock shut. Down here, the atmosphere remains heavy with damp air struggling to reach my lungs. There's no seeing what lies ahead of me. This place lacks light, and the only way through now is through touch.

Imogen's warm hand brushes against my tunic. She stands so close, yet I can't see her through the black veil set between us. There's no light, even if Imogen is a light herself.

Her pinky brushes mine, just a stroke to seek me out. Delicately, our fingers twine between each other.

Without speaking a word, she leads me down the black corridors—hands woven together, and her fingers squeezing mine so tight. I could let go and separate myself from her. It'd be my chance to get away from her captivity and figure out this castle. Yet, I let myself hold on. I try to navigate to where we would be within the castle—so I can report back my route to Gareth—but I've lost count of Imogen's twists and turns. Somehow, even amidst the darkness, she knows where to go.

"These are the catacombs beneath the castle," she says as if she could read my thoughts. "They're only known by the highest ranking guards and royalty. The catacombs become passageways within the walls, but we're only intended to use them if we're in danger."

"And to stow away thieves?" I mutter.

She squeezes my hand. "Just one, and I'd hardly call him a thief."

My ego beams with rage, wanting to retaliate, but only for a moment before it longs to have Imogen jab at it once more. My blood rushes to places it shouldn't in the aftermath of the remark, and I'm thankful for the lack of light.

Imogen has more of an effect on me than she should, and it's becoming a chore to keep my priorities straight. There's a playfulness about her aura, and I long to follow it to keep her amused. She's a challenge I've somehow accepted and subconsciously became committed to outwitting.

But Aspen.

I should've asked Gareth more about her. Where is she now? Is my mother still okay? I never asked those questions before, because I knew there was no chance I could go back without being arrested or killed in the castle square. I couldn't even take the risk. There's a chance to undo the shit that brought me here in the first place, and that chance lies within that hidden room in this damn castle.

And I'm learning that I can't do this alone if I want to see Aspen again. I'll need help to navigate this place, and that help can only come from Imogen.

Imogen pushes open a doorway, and she steps into a room: her bedroom. In fact, we're entering through the middle of her closet.

These passages change everything about the castle.

A hearth lights up the golden artifacts and furniture, the warmth of the fire swaddling me like a blanket. In the light, the princess releases my hand from her hold, but I follow her to hold on to the remnants of her touch. She trails throughout the room and removes her damp cloak to reveal her nightdress, ignoring the fact that I follow like a lost sheep.

I stand behind her as she wanders to her vanity, removing golden rings from her fingers. I count each accessory, tallying the amount of coins each would be worth. It'd be enough to buy a farm, or an army of cows, or—

"You can rest here to wait out the storm," she offers, her voice softer than before. "I wouldn't want you to get sick while you wait on me to gift you gold."

I chuckle. "I should warn you that I'm actually a pretty damn good thief."

"Prove it." Gods, those grey eyes spark at the challenge. I'm so fucked, and it's all thanks to her. "Prove that you're actually worthy of being spared from the guards."

"Challenge accepted, princess," I wink, and she releases one of those addictive giggles.

Her hand laces between mine as she brings me over to the edge of the hearth. Imogen coaxes me to rest, even going so far as to pry my damp boots off and setting them aside to dry out. While I lounge near the firelight, I keep my eyes on the princess tending to me. She pulls a quilt off her bed, draping it over my body to keep warm. Vanilla swirls around me, drugging me.

Imogen takes a seat next to me. Some foolish part of me reaches my hand out, combing back a honey golden lock of hair behind her ear and shoulder. My touch falls down her bare back, until I smooth out the wrinkles in her silk nightdress, tracing designs and swirls against her spine.

I'm in awe of her. Of her skill. Of her presence. Of that playful personality that seems to be tainted with bits of sorrow.

She brings her knees to her chest as her body settles against the touch of my palm. "Please don't fool me, Tobin," she pleads in the faintest whisper. "Everything about you feels like a godsend, and I don't want it to be a dream."

"Imogen," her name rolls off my tongue, drawing me closer to her temple as I place a tender kiss against her skin. "Capture me again tomorrow night," I whisper, each word brushing against her soft skin.

Her body relaxes within my hold, and she leans her head up against my shoulder. Perhaps all she sought was an assurance that I'd be back. Why would a princess with everything at her fingertips possibly want a thief to return? I have a task to carry out, and maybe making an alliance with Imogen will grant me the information I need to get into that unknown room.

But her request makes me realize that something isn't right. She shouldn't want me to come back, and yet, that's exactly what she longs for.

Deep within the night, the storm outside her room ends, and the princess sleeps soundly within my arms. I lay her down against the quilts, her body serene in the beam of moonlight breaking from the clouds. She is moonlight personified, and I feel as if I am the hurricane consuming her.

I kiss her temple. "Sleep well, princess."

And now, it's time to do what a petty thief does best.

Steal.

── •✧• ──

An earlier update than anticipated! I feel like on yesterday's update I lacked the Tobin & Imogen content you want, so I have decided to publish the next chapter! Also, I just have no self control and am impatient, and I desperately all want you to continue this adventure.

All comments, votes, and shares are appreciated, but not necessary! 

I adore you all.