ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

Dread encapsulates every inch of my skin. Today, King Leighton of Adorid arrives to the castle, demanding a feast from us to seal our betrothal. I try to think of the event in its simplest form: a dinner with a man who happens to be a cruel king. After all, that's all this truly is.

Yet, I fear that tonight, I will reach my demise and shatter completely in order to comply to his will.

A knock on the door breaks my serenity. "Good morning, duckling! Can I come in?"

Duckling. It's my father.

A beam of morning light falls across the bed, touching the skin of my bare arms, and dancing over the taut biceps laced around my waist—

Oh gods.

I spin my body around, only to come face-to-face with a sleeping Tobin. His cheeks smoosh into the pillow, his chestnut brown hair strewn in a series of adorable untamable cowlicks. Tobin has always left before dawn. Always.

He can't escape the castle during daylight.

"Imogen?" my father prods with another knock.

"Coming!" I croak, then swat a palm across Tobin's cheek.

He jostles awake, his tired face knitting into a cute scowl. "What the—" I shut him up with a finger to the lips.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" I hiss. "Get your boots on and get in the closet! Now!"

He hesitates, but another rampant knocking from my father acts like a kick to the ass. He needs to disappear from sight, and the only safe place within my room is to go through the hidden door in the closet and into the castle passageways.

Tobin is light on his feet as he stumbles across the room, frantically lacing up boots as I belt the scabbard to his hip. If my father swung open the door, he'd certainly interrogate me with questions at the sight of us.

Tobin releases a frustrated grunt. "Who the fuck—?"

I pull on the scabbard, causing him to groan. My fingers accidentally slip lower against his pelvic region. Oh gods. I retract my fingers as if they were scorched by fire before apologetically meeting those darkening brown eyes. Now, I see there's no need for an apology. The golden flint trapped in his irises twinkles like the heavens, and his cheeks flare with a slight rosy blush.

I return to fixing the belt for his sword.

"My father's here," I seethe in a soft whisper. "The last person you want to be caught by."

"And you want me to hide in the closet?"

I tug on the scabbard belt, jostling an oomf from Tobin as he finishes with his boots. "Go in the closet and slip into the passages," I chide. "I'll meet you down there once he leaves, but don't do anything stupid."

He smiles that bloody mischievous grin. "I'm always doing something stupid."

"Imogen?" My father. My relentless adoring father. "Are you alright?"

I push Tobin towards the closet, and yet it still doesn't knock that goofy blood-warming smirk from his mouth. He loves this—this chaos spiraling out of control because of him. Even he can't contain his silent laughter as the fabric of bodices and skirts encase him in the closet.

"Stay hidden," I order.

Then I slam the closet door.

I rush over to my bedroom door, clearly bothered, flustered, and troubled. I hope my father excuses it for nerves, when it's really due to a petty thief and his extended stay.

I open it up to my father releasing a relieved sigh.

"I was hoping you would open up the door," he says with a slight warming smile.

I take a deep breath, attempting to compose myself. "I was hoping to get my beauty rest."

"It's a father's duty to awaken his daughter early in the morning."

He enters the bedroom. Due to the flustering hurricane of redressing Tobin, I never did scan the room for any evidence of his things. Luckily, nothing on the floor belongs to him. Just a pair of slippers, my bow and quiver, and my cloak: all of which are mine.

My father wanders towards the balcony, resting his calloused worn hands on the railing. Those fading grey eyes observe the kingdom he was fated to govern, a kingdom that waits on its heels for its downfall. When he lowers his head, those eyes turn back to me.

"I'll alert Elena that you are ready for preparations," he speaks in a low, calculated tone. "She'll make sure that you are dressed properly for the dinner. I'm assuming King Leighton has high expectations of you."

I force a blunt ha. "I could care less of his opinion of me."

He sighs. "We're still trying to form some sort of alternative to the marriage, because we know there has to be some ulterior motive to it. Ending a war through marriage isn't as easy as it sounds."

Ulterior motive. I never gave it much thought before this moment, but it seems like a ludicrous plan that King Leighton would conspire. What if this betrothal is just a distraction to the truth of his plans? What if it means nothing at the end of the day?

I swallow. "If I am marrying this man, then it will end the war. I'll make it final whether Leighton likes it or not."

"That's not how Leighton works."

"So what you're saying is, is that you'll give me away to him anyway? Even if the marriage doesn't solve the war in the end?"

My father lowers his gaze, his large worn hands flexing against the railing with an irritation he can't shake. "Your betrothal to Leighton has brought Lagulon and Adorid to a ceasefire. It's a start."

My ribs ache as the bones weaken, the phantom feel of them fracturing inside me. Anxiety crippled me these last few days, and my remedy sneaks itself within the castle passages to stay hidden from royal eyes. At least then, I believed the betrothal would work. Now, it's only a tool to buy us more time.

I'm going to marry a man that will kill my father and kingdom.

"Do you know if it's true?" I breathe. "That Leighton has other plans for us?"

My father shakes his head. "We have no intel on what's happening within Adorid's borders. Our... our spies haven't reported back to us with any messages. All of this is speculation, duckling. It might not even be true."

I take a deep breath in of the morning air. Out on the balcony, the breeze brushes past us speaking unspoken words of fear. My father is supposed to be the brave one, the one who never backs down from a fight or a challenge. That's what he wants the kingdom to believe.

But the man I know just desires peace, and a war like this was never on his agenda.

"Tonight, if Leighton requests to be alone with you, feign illness. We will all try our best to keep you within eyesight of the guards. There is no way I'm letting you be alone with him."

"Is it because...?" my voice drifts, not daring to say the truth.

"He has a reputation," my father mutters. "And I don't want you to be another name on that list of tainted souls."

And yet I'm still betrothed to him. It's still me who is the slaughtered lamb in the end.

My father pushes away from the railing. "The feast starts at sundown. I will try and converse with you about the details beforehand in my private gardens, but expect Elena to arrive soon."

Soon. For a brief moment, my mind wanders to the thief in my closet. Before I can even dare think about giving my life to Leighton, I need to free the thief within the hidden passages.

A smart man would've waited for my arrival, but even I know Tobin longs to creep those corridors. I have a speculation as to what room he'll be attempting to enter, perhaps where his intentions truly lie. But for this moment, I have to trust Tobin.

My father paces towards my bedroom door. "Will you be alright until the evening, duckling?"

I swallow, forcing a nod. "I know you have other business to take care of."

"If I had the choice, I wouldn't be leaving you at all today," my father admits. "It kills me that I've done this to you, that I've sold you to him for the price of the kingdom."

"It's for the kingdom," my voice cracks as tears sting the edges of my eyes. "It's what a noble king has to do, and a fate that a loyal princess must accept."

He gives a brisk nod, no longer meeting my gaze. Guilt weighs his shoulders more than usual. Although the burden is nothing but a ghost, I notice the way it influences his entire body. He trembles when he stands, his posture weak and vulnerable. It's all because of me, because of what he's making me do.

My father kisses my temple before leaving my bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It snaps me back to those whimsical nightfalls caught in Tobin's allure. Now, in the daylight, I fear his lingering presence will get him killed.

I grab my bow and arrow, whipping open the closet doors. With a hefty huff, I pull the trap door into the passages open. I expect to see a pair of brown eyes with those flecks of gold staring back at me, waiting for me to be a lighthouse and guide him to the shoreline.

But he's long left the sanctuary of my coast and has drifted into the shadows of the hidden passages.

Oh gods. He can't be in there, because little does he know that this secret highway can get him anywhere in the castle, even to the places where no one dares to enter. He can sneak into places that will get him killed if he trespasses.

Worst of all, he might... Tobin might sneak into his room.

Him.

His room is the perfect spot for a thief to go, considering the entrance isn't far from entry to my bedroom.

My heart collapses in my chest as I barrel through the black veil of the unlit halls. Memories attack me of an innocent past of him and I. Those were days of sunshine before I built a barricade around my heart, before my inner walls turned to stone.

Him.

No one knows of him. No one would accept him if they did. My father would be scrutinized on the spot.

Him.

When I find the room—his room, a heavily guarded chamber unseen from the eyes of the public—I catch my petty thief standing over neatly folded navy robes and tunics, a golden crown clasped in his calloused thieving hands. Tobin's brown eyes lock on me, a deer stuck in an open meadow as the hunter approaches. A tendon in his jaw twitches, curiosity folding his expression.

I draw an arrow in my bow, pointing it straight at Tobin. One of us is a fool, and I don't want it to be me.

My voice echoes in the silent room in a powerful decree. "Put the crown down."

Because the crown belongs to him.

Ruslan. My older brother. The one the kingdom never got to know.

The heir to the throne that would never get to rule.

── •✧• ──

I feel like I just dropped a big information bomb at the end of this chapter, but before you make any theories and speculations, I hope to clarify more of what Imogen's current situation is in the next chapter. Except quick updates over the holiday season, as I have plenty of free time and lots of inspiration.

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