𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

I roll off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. "For the love of fucking—"

A rumbling pain crashes through my entire skull, the kind that ties a thousand weights to your brain and drags you around. It must be from whatever the hell I drank last night. From what I recall, I went through my entire stash of god knows what—whatever I could get my fucking hands on. It would explain the glass bottles littered around the homestead.

Gods, I hate hangovers.

But the thought of betraying Imogen almost has me reaching for another bottle, but I don't. Now that it's morning, I have to put my princess behind me and focus on my sister.

It takes a moment for me to figure out where the rest of my clothes are. Although I wear my pants, my shirt and boots must be somewhere in this goddamn shit hole. I find my boots, but my shirt is nowhere to be found in this mess.

I push the door open and check by the fire, only to stop dead in my tracks. Next to the campfire's ashes sleeps a peaceful untouchable Imogen. She's curled up in her cloak to keep warm. Her blonde hair fans behind her in waterfalls of honey. Even from a distance, the scent of vanilla strangles my hungover mind. The morning light dances over her, painting her golden in every way possible. She's painstakingly beautiful; more so when I recall every moment she's laughed, cried, or threatened me with an arrow. Underneath her lies my shirt, rolled up as a makeshift pillow.

She shouldn't be here.

Not in daylight.

Because the last thing this kingdom needs is a lost princess, when the secrets of a prince have already begun to swirl through the villages. I believe it's already too late for that, though. By now, knights will be sent searching every nook and cranny of this kingdom for her, and then they'll accuse me of more than just a petty thief.

I roll her over. "You need to leave."

Those grey storms flutter open, dazed as they gaze up at me. It's a miracle that she decided to stick around this place. Whatever happened last night between us is only left in a few sober fragments. She held an arrow to my neck as tears streamed down those porcelain cheeks, and I confessed every thought that met my tongue...

Then I went inside, and I can't remember a damn thing.

She yawns, but refuses to waver her strategic gaze. The crisp morning air brushes against my bare skin, and I know she catches my slight shiver.

Imogen flashes a sweet, yet diabolical smirk. "You look a little cold."

"Someone decided to use my shirt as a pillow," I grumble. Fortunately, she tosses me the stolen shirt, which I put on with haste. "And you call me the petty thief."

"You are."

I bite my tongue. It's these moments of brisk playfulness that make me want to pick her up, throw her on top of Neph, and ride off into the sunset.

The thoughts of Ruslan's crown breach my mind, and all the light Imogen offers to me fades into black. She told me never to tell a soul about Ruslan, to never go back to that hidden room. Yet, I disobeyed my princess' command and severed every promise between us. She has every reason to be mad, but I have every reason to follow through with it.

Aspen is alive, and I can finally save her from the shackles of hell.

"Tobin," her melodic voice carries through the morning air. "You could've told me about Aspen."

I scowl in shock. "How the fuck do you—"

"You told me about her," she says quickly, cutting me short. "Last night when you were drunk. You said that this was the only way you could get her back."

I pace over to my sword and scabbard laying on the dirt, distracting myself from her conversation by belting it up. How much did I say to her? How much does she know? All those godforsaken memories were meant to stay in the past, because none that matters now. I'm going to reunite with Aspen, and we're going to forget all the shit we've endured over the past ten years.

Except, Imogen keeps talking, and I realize that I told her more than I expected—I told her the whole fucking story.

"You also never mentioned that you came from a noble family," she speaks so nonchalantly, as if my story were some ancient book she picked up in the castle library. "The Parias bloodline—the ones expected to serve closely to the king and queen of Adorid for generations. I never would've guessed that you have a little bit of royalty in you."

I drag a hand along the features of my hungover face. "How much did I tell you?"

She giggles, not getting the hint that I'm not in the mood for her to recite my entire life story. "A lot, " she sticks her tongue out at me, something Aspen used to do all the time. It's a detail I obviously exposed to her.

Now she knows everything about me, every dark and unwanted flaw of my past has resurfaced.

Imogen swallows, then lowers her gaze to her fingers that fidget with her golden rings. "Your sister... I think I've met her before."

"What?"

"Aspen," she says. "You said she was your sister. She's the one that retrieved me after Leighton punished me with a cut."

"You've met Aspen?"

"I should've known. You both have the same kind eyes."

I struggle to fathom the idea of Imogen and Aspen meeting each other out of pure luck. Yet, neither of them realize how entwined they both are to my life. Both of these women are wrapped around my heart, but there is only room for one. I snapped the tether between Imogen, and fortified the hold on Aspen's.

Those two striking moons lift back up to me, a hint of hope in her irises.

Once again, I'm going to shatter her to pieces with one statement: "I don't have Ruslan's crown."

"I know," she breathes.

"There's nothing I can fucking do."

"I know."

"Then what do you want?" my voice cuts through the air, slightly pained with guilt for what I've done. Yet, all the anger that I recall Imogen simmering with has faded away.

Imogen rises from the ground, then moves until she stands before me. I drown in a sea of vanilla, and it takes every muscle in my body to keep myself from kissing those glossy lips.

"Staying here until morning was a foolish decision of mine," she mutters, keeping her voice soft, "but I had to tell you this sober before you run off for good." Imogen's attention drifts off to the meadow where Neph trots happily with another horse—Imogen's horse, I can only assume. "I just want you to know that I will never forgive you for what you've done. You've broken more than just the trust I've given you."

My heart pounds against my ribs. I already knew this. I knew that defying her commands would break every rope that bound us in love. This is a sin I can never cleanse, a wrong I can never repair.

"But, I don't hate you, Tobin," she continues. She reaches out, brushing a hand down my arm, and the fool inside of me lets her. "Think of this as a truce between us, and someday, maybe we can rebuild what we had."

I shake my head. "You're allowed to hate me, princess."

"But I don't."

"Hate me," I grit, because I'm not ready for her to confess the opposite. She can't love me, not like I know she desires.

"I would've made the same choice if it were Ruslan. You're just lucky you have the chance to get your sister back, because I..." her voice chokes up, "because I'd do anything to see my brother again."

I thought I knew Imogen, but I know there's this whole other part of her that's infinitely connected to Ruslan. Yet, I know nothing of Ruslan. Only a name. Who is the secret prince of Lagulon, and how did his legacy become lost under a thousand secrets? In time, those secrets will unfold, but there's only one person I want to hear them from, one person who I know will give me the full truth.

I gaze down at her, only to see the lost memories of Ruslan tainting her sorrowful irises. "I have one last request before I go."

She tenses. "A request?"

"I want to meet your brother."

She scowls in confusion. Ruslan is dead. That I know, but I don't want to leave this kingdom not knowing about the lost prince of Lagulon. All of this chaos we catch ourselves in is because of Ruslan and Aspen. She knows everything about Aspen—even met her when she was in the Adoridian castle—but I want to meet Ruslan.

I want Ruslan to know that, despite me being the idiot to break his sister's heart, I am still helplessly in love with her.

"Tobin, you can't—" she pauses, a hesitation as she ponders over my final request. After a beat passes between us, it appears I have tipped the scales. Her first response is to retaliate, to say no, but she slowly begins to nod her head. "Okay," she says, her lips curving into the slightest hint of a smile. "I think he'd want to meet you too."

It's then I see the light inside of her glow so bright. She adores the idea of letting me meet her brother, because now there's no need to keep him hidden. The secret of Ruslan might make the citizens of Lagulon doubt their king, gouging answers from him about his character and history, but it only strengthens my belief in Imogen's reign.

Erratic neighing from the horses comes from the meadow, alarming us that there's an intruder. I draw my sword and swing Imogen behind my back, my attention narrowed on the rustling foliage. The castle guards would notice she's missing by now, and would have knights searching every inch of the countryside, leaving no stone unturned.

The forest parts for Gareth as he rides into the meadow on his tan horse, dressed in obvious Adoridian royal garb. I lower my sword, and Imogen scoffs behind my back.

"I should've known that you were working with Adorid," she mutters. "Gareth was the one that sent you."

I grunt. "I obviously didn't mention that part of my life when I was drunk, huh?"

"What part?"

"Gareth and I used to be good friends."

"When you say 'good friends' do you mean... lovers?"

I spin around, meeting her gaze with mine widened in shock. There's a teasing smile on her lips, as if she was trying to read between some unwritten line between us.

By now, Gareth trots up to us and dismounts his steed. He looks like a true warrior ready to attack the enemy, but even I know he won't dare harm Imogen or myself. He's come to deliver a message.

Gareth dismounts his horse as he reaches us. He crosses his arms across his iron cuirass, soaking in every piece of information in front of him. He knows about Imogen and I, and it burns a hole in my soul knowing he's the one I have to trust to make sure Leighton never discovers.

"Princess," Gareth bows to Imogen, paying his respects to her royal title. "Running away from your duties, aren't you?"

"I am not," Imogen huffs, straightening her back at the remark.

"Your father's ordered a search for you to return to the castle, and since you're betrothed to my king, I offered to be of assistance."

"How thoughtful," she mutters in the most unsympathetic of tones. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I had several hints," he begins, his blue eyes solely focused on Imogen. "Your handmaiden is lying through her teeth about where you went," he grins in my direction. "Second of all, I know you and Tobin are quite... fond of each other. I figured he'd be at this stupid cottage."

I curl my fingers around my sword, but Imogen only giggles at the response. "He's predictable, isn't he?"

"Very."

It takes everything inside of me to refrain from defending myself. I am not predictable, nor am I petty. I bet that dumbass couldn't predict that I'd gotten all my information from the princess of Lagulon, more or less fall head over heels for her.

Imogen brushes her fingers against my wrist, as if to take my hand, but the touch disappears as she strides away. "Let me collect my horse."

Gareth nods his head, and Imogen dashes off into the meadow. A sail of moonlit blonde hair follows behind her as she scampers through the tall grass. Gods, she's illuminating. I'm a fucking ship sailing the ocean and she's a goddamn lighthouse, guiding me safe to shore.

"I've sent a messenger out to Adorid about Aspen," Gareth tells me once Imogen is out of earshot. "Once it's all been properly arranged, you can go back. It's been approved by Leighton, so you no longer need to fear getting executed by the guards."

A tic in my jaw twitches. Now that I have Aspen back, my attention already seems to shift to the princess—a princess I need to forget.

"I thought she'd kill me for what I've done," I mutter.

Gareth chuckles and gazes out towards Imogen. "She probably hates our guts."

I want her to hate my guts. To despise me. Somehow, she doesn't. She told me that this wasn't forgiveness, but what remains between us is a truce—a time when our wars against each other end without a victory. She will never seek revenge or retaliate for what I've done. It's over. It's in the past.

Now all I have to do is let her go.

How can I do that when she's expected to marry Leighton?

By now, Imogen has gathered her horse and rides back towards Gareth. Her bow and quiver remain slung over her shoulders, appearing like a true warrior. She bleeds with authority and power, dominating the attention of the space until all eyes swing towards her.

"I'll update you when it's safe for you to return to Adorid," Gareth tells me before turning towards Imogen.

My gaze only seems to trail those two moons that belong to Imogen. She gives me a curt nod—a small notion that this encounter isn't goodbye—before turning to Gareth. Hell knows what troubles lie ahead of her for escaping the castle walls at such a tragic time. Her father is probably furious about the secret of Ruslan, and probably even more so that Imogen failed to return.

There's nothing I can do to fix castle politics. Right now, I need to have patience and wait.

I'm coming for you, Aspen.

Soon.

── •✧• ──

So Tobigen ISN'T dead yet (you all knew that, though, because how can I keep Tobin and Imogen apart forever?) Unfortunately, the relationship of Tobigen lies in the hands of the two people that know of them -- Elena and Gareth.

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