ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

Sneaking around the guards wasn't an issue like Gareth said it would be. Yes, they were thicker, but I've memorized the routes Imogen likes to take around here. Sure enough, I find myself slipping into her bedroom in one piece.

"Imogen?"

She's not here, not that I expected her to be. Although she never warned me that there would be an event at the castle, I figured she would be involved. At least Gareth knew enough to give me a heads-up before I got myself shot off by a guard.

Now that I'm safe in Imogen's bedroom, I let my aching muscles loosen. I take a seat on the chair by her desk, analyzing her map of the castle. I search for any indications of 'Ruslan's bedroom', but there's none. Nothing at all. With my fingertip, I trace the probable route I took to get to the bedroom. I somehow wove towards the dining hall, then reversed back up towards the wing for the royal family. I missed the turn to Imogen's bedroom—or maybe the passage curved and I failed to notice?

Either way, I need to know the exact directions to get there if I want to see Aspen again.

At the cost of Imogen.

I'm an asshole. The biggest one out there in any of the neighbouring kingdoms. Whoever the hell Ruslan is to her, she didn't want to speak about him. In fact, it's not right for me to know, and for some fucked up reason I decided to interrogate her on it. She should've killed me. The chance was given to her, and instead, she decided to spare me. She let me free with one lingering warning that made my heart pound a million miles a minute.

I will hunt you down, she said. Gods, I want her too. I long for her to escape these castle boundaries and enter the wild where she thrives. I want her bow laced in her arms with her arrow poised at my tunic.

But the desires never stopped there. She's forbidden, untouchable, a ripe poisonous apple with a bite I yearn to take. When her voice speaks at me in that timbre hollow whisper, my bones liquify and I sink into that vanilla scented curse. When she captures me, I want it to be with a kiss, because that's exactly how I will reciprocate. I close my eyes, longing to taint her porcelain skin with marks that belong to me. No one fucking else. She's a challenge I need to seize, take control of—and yet I know I'll never win any of those battles. Her fight has me under her spell. Heaven forbid I destroy it.

Which is exactly what I have to do, if it means seeing Aspen.

Before I fall captive to the lingering scent of vanilla clouding her room, I descend into the catacombs through the entrance in her closet. The suffocating cold air refreshes my mind from the allure of Imogen, and back to the task at hand.

I decide to take the same route as I did this morning. I trace my fingertip along the edges of the stone passages, mentally mapping each ridge and curve. When the stone turns to wood, I know I'm nearing the dining room. It's not long until the torchlight from inside the room flickers through the few cracks between the walls. I hold my breath, keeping it steady as voices manage to echo through the wooden walls.

"Any father has difficulty giving their daughter away in marriage—king or not." The voice belongs to King Orion. I'm not familiar with him, other than he disrupted my beauty rest with Imogen with his annoying-as-fuck knocking. "I'm sure you'll earn my approval easily."

Wait—did he just say marriage?

"Good. That's what I want to hear."

My heart heaves inside my chest at the tone of that man's response—that hoarse curling tone that haunts me every night I close my eyes. It's that voice that ridicules me sober, and it's that voice that only disappears with bottles of wine and Imogen's vanilla scent.

He's the reason I fled, the reason my father took the lengths he did, the reason Aspen is now suffocating in his castle.

King Leighton Federline of Adorid.

How I long to spear my sword straight into his heart. And yet, after I go through with telling Gareth about Ruslan, he's the one who will pardon me for my sins so I can see Aspen. Despite his nature, he acts like the god of Adorid.

"Now, Imogen, we shall pick a wedding date," Leighton's voice courses through me in such a powerful boom that I nearly draw my sword.

Imogen. He said her name. Her beautiful melodic name.

In marriage?

I press my eye up to a crack in the wall, observing the event unfolding in the torchlit room. Imogen illuminates the space, her moonlight blonde hair braided around her head like a crown then falls down her back in golden waterfalls. Her skin shimmers like starlight, her long lashes lowered to her clenched hands woven into her skirt. She grips the fabric so fiercely she might tear it apart. The fire in her burns so bright, and yet she can't release her frustrations now.

My eyes drift across the table. Leighton sits with his irises carved of ice, attempting to freeze her so he can bring her into his household. Not that I'd let him, because he can't marry her. He can't. He'll do more than just silence that fire within her, he'll eradicate everything inside her that makes her my glowing beam of moonlight.

My moonlight. God forbid he destroy it.

Gareth sits next to Leighton, and another swell of anger burns in my chest. For the past week I've met with that man, told him what I knew about this place. I never thought twice about what Adorid's plans were regarding Lagulon. Now, I want to hold Gareth captive by the blade of my sword and force an answer from his lips about what Leighton envisions. What kind of fucking scheme am I involved in?

And you know what he'll say? This is for Adorid. All of this is, even Imogen's marriage to Leighton.

I'm doing this for Aspen, but for some reason, I can't let the thought of Imogen breaking at the fringes out of my mind.

For fuck's sakes, this feels so wrong. Even with Aspen at stake.

Before I tear down this wall to rubble and pierce my sword deep into the king of Adorid, I return back to Imogen's bedroom. This time, I don't try to escape the vanilla scent that condemns me. I succumb to it until my mind is consumed by the thought of Imogen. With lidded eyes, I glance at the balcony, at the crescent moon hovering in the stars. My fist finds the pendant clasped around my neck, and I hold it in my grasp.

My Imogen. Mine. If Leighton lands a damn finger on her, I'll kill him. Rip him to shreds. Show him that mercy doesn't exist in this world. Not when it comes to those who I let into my soft heart.

Her bedroom door creaks open, and my hand reaches for my sword.

Imogen slips inside, her steps soundless against the hardwood beneath her slippered feet. Silent tears carve rivulets through the shimmering cosmetics on her cheeks, her grey moons hung low as she releases a sob. Those fluent fingers tug on a ribbon binding the petticoat of her dress, a swift gesture to let a deep breath reach the depths of her lungs, but they fumble.

When she looks up and meets my gaze, I can't stop every single emotion that I've felt barreling towards the surface. If she told me about the wedding, maybe I would've reconsidered my approach to unearthing the secret room and Ruslan. But Aspen and I—we're blood bound. I loved my little sister for those first six years of her life until it was taken away from me. Now she's out there, alone, and it's my duty to be the brother she needed years ago.

"You never told me you were getting married," I spit out, a little sharper than I anticipated. The thought of her and Leighton sends flames of fury through every muscle and vein inside of me.

"Tobin, I—" She holds her tongue. Those two grey moons widen as she stares upon me, broken by the glossy tears that rise in the rims of her eyes. "I have to marry him."

"You're not marrying him." I release the handle of my sword and take a step towards her.

This time, she wipes the tear that falls down her cheek with the back of her knuckles. She sucks in a quivering breath, her spine straightening with that fierceness I thrive upon.

"I am marrying him," she lashes. "In four months, actually."

"For fuck's sake," I run a hand over my face. Four months. "How the hell did you end up with that bastard? You don't want this."

"This is none of your concern," she brushes past me and steps out onto the balcony. Meanwhile, I stay inside, out of the sight of the guards. "Not that you need to know. You have your mind set on going back to Ruslan's room, don't you?"

Ruslan. Even his name causes the hairs on my arm to raise at attention, as if his soul still lingered in every wing of the castle.

"I don't give a flying fuck about going back to that room. You're getting married to the king of fucking Adorid!" Her shoulders tense as my voice cuts through the nighttime air. "He'll ruin you, or burn you out, or fuck it! Maybe even damage you to the point of no return." And no one can do that to her. No one.

"Gods, Tobin, you've already done enough to me," she spins back towards me, the skirt of that navy gown following behind her like a river. The golden threads twinkle in the moonlight. "I gave you a piece of me that I haven't given to anyone in so long, and you've lost it."

"I haven't."

Those long lashes shelter the glow of her grey eyes. "Then promise me—no, show me, that you're worthy of all this. Because after tonight, I don't want you to come back, and if you do decide to climb the walls of this castle, don't come to my room. I will not be so kind and spare you."

A sharp ring tears inside of me, my heart heavy with every thump. No. My goddamn answer to this is no.

I'm a fool.

I want to come back, to get another taste of moonlight on my tongue. I long to get drunk on her vanilla scent every night and brush my fingertips against silky porcelain skin. I chase her hidden inner nature, her need for freedoms beyond her royal life. I need to feed her heart's fire.

I need her to burn.

"I told you this morning you were a weapon," I breathe, "and you would stab me in the heart."

She gnaws on her glossy bottom lip. "I am a weapon."

Each step towards her strengthens my pull to her soul. We were once two parallel lines, but somehow, our lives merge and I can't unravel the mess no matter how hard I try. I'm about to make a god forsaken mistake. A big fucking mistake. But fuck Gareth and Leighton and everyone who dares stop me now.

"Consider me stabbed," my voice drips out.

I tug on the skirt of Imogen's navy dress, hauling her back into the privacy of her bedroom chamber. I flush her body up against the wall, not caring what the hell is in my path. Something shatters behind us, most likely a frame or painting or vase. The shards crunch beneath my boots as I press closer, closer, entwining my limbs betwixt hers. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Rough, wild, untamed—all aspects that a princess who 'isn't made of glass' adores.

My lips caress a trail down her temple. "You've captured me. Stolen me. Shot me in the fucking heart." My hands find the ribbons on her spine she so desperately tried to loosen earlier. With a brisk tug, the knot gives way and I pull. Ribbons break, and a petticoat falls to her feet. "Spare me for one more night."

A beam of moonlight brushes over her bare shoulders, and I dip my lips down to the fresh porcelain skin, open mouth kisses dancing across her. She tastes of sweet sugar, a treat so divine I savour it against my tongue. Her head falls back against the wall, her grey moons closed. Bliss. Adoration. They cross her once anguished face.

"Petty thief," she breathes, but her voice remains featherlight. Untouchable.

Mine.

I silence her with a kiss to those glossy lips, smothering her voice silent with the swift caress of my tongue against hers. She tastes of honey, of sugar, of sunlight and moonlight combined.

Dainty fingertips thread into my chestnut hair, tugging my lips away from hers with such softness.

"Stay," she breathes, then forces her lips back to mine.

With eyes closed, the scent of her sweet vanilla and evergreen mix into one of heady arousal and sweat. Hungry lips, frantic tongues, clashing teeth, breaking glass and chafing skin become a swan song. Her fingertips jostle with the belt on the scabbard until the metal sword and belt fall to the floor by our feet.

I want more. So much more than just messy kisses.

I lift her up in my arms, carrying her through the sea of broken glass towards her bed. Her fingers tug on my tunic, taking control of me as her spine hits the mattress. Screw the consequences of the morning. I'll deal with it then.

Tonight, Imogen is mine. In my arms. Tethered to my dark soul.

── •✧• ──

Merry Christmas Eve! Although nightfall has just arrived, it's not yet over! I am so glad that this chapter perfectly aligned with Christmas, because it seriously is a gift (considering it changes the dynamic between Tobin & Imogen forever). MY BEAUTIFUL TOBIGEN <3 I love them so much.

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