𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 | 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

My tongue has been rapid with cutthroat curses.

Gareth and Brock force me to walk—on my goddamn fucked-up leg with a blistering knife wound—through the bleak hidden passages that weave within the walls of the Lagulon castle. Gareth stands in front of me, guiding me to where he wants to go while Brock kicks my bad leg to keep going (as if I couldn't get the message). I stumble forward, attempting to brace my fall with my hands, but they got fucking shackles wrapped around my wrists.

When I hit the cold heartless ground, Gareth pauses and turns to look at the commander of Leighton's army. "We need him to walk. I'm not carrying him the rest of the way."

Brock gives a disapproving huff, but complies to Gareth's orders. He hoists me back up to my feet. "Keep walking," he mumbles under his breath.

"Bastard," I hiss.

I won't make it far if I break for it, not with my injured leg and certainly not when I'm bound in chains. Still, as Gareth weaves through the passages with a torch in hand, I begin to recognize where we are in the castle. All those nights of sneaking around here have allowed me to create a mental map of this place, and I know exactly where he's taking me. This stone corridor—it's the same one where I watched Imogen stand before her people and announce the betrothal to Leighton. It's where Gareth found me and convinced me to steal Ruslan's crown.

This corridor has a hidden view of the throne room through the cracks in the wall, and the throne room is the exact place where Imogen will marry Leighton.

"You motherfucker," I spit as Brock forces me down to my knees. He grabs me by the scruff of my hair and cranes my eye to look into the crack. There, I observe the vast crowd of Lagulonians vying to see a glimpse of their princess as the bride. The ceremony hasn't started yet, thank the gods, but it will soon. Music echoes through these walls, the noise muffled by the stone, but the image before me will be clear as day.

The knife wound is torture enough, but Leighton knows how I feel about Imogen, knows that it'll hurt more to watch that light I adore become extinguished. She's selling her soul to the devil to save her kingdom, all with a simple 'yes' from her lips in marriage.

It's a wicked choice her father made, and yet Imogen's willing to tip those scales to save her people.

Brock holds me in place as I swing my hand towards Gareth. The torchlight flickers against his grim features, almost as if it pained him to see me like this. So feeble. So weak. Our eyes meet, and... he looks disappointed, or maybe that's sorrow, but I can't tell because I hate his entire fucking face right now.

Gareth swallows. "Leighton's orders. He wanted you to have a view of the wedding."

"He's going to kill her." It'll be a slow, brutal, heart-crushing death of her soul, and I don't even know if I'll be alive to bring her back to light. What if I can't resurrect her when she's already too far gone into such darkness?

"I can't disobey my king, Tobin."

"He's a fucking dick," I spit.

Gareth breaks our eye contact, finding more interest in the soles of his leather boots. "Imogen will be well taken care of in the Adoridan castle. You should know that she'll be under close observation from our guards. Nothing will bring her harm."

"I don't trust you or anyone with her."

"Aspen will serve her," Gareth mutters. "Do you not trust her?"