Page 114 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
Heat rises to my cheeks in a flush of mortified awareness. Not fear. Not anger. Just the humiliation of beingseen.Of being caught in something sacred—and knowing it never was. From the edge of the shadows, Callum steps forward, tilting his head slightly as his gaze drags over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle.
“Take the princess back to her room.” Casper orders, his eyes intentionally avoiding mine.
My vision blurs as Callum reaches for my elbow, but I shove him away. Without sparing a glance behind me, I stride past both of them, my focus fixed on the dark stretch of forest ahead.
Casper’s gaze burns into my back, but he doesn’t stop me.
The walk to the palace walls feels endless, the cold air biting at my skin as the fire inside me grows hotter, fiercer with every step. By the time I reach the gates, the rejection I felt earlier has hardened into something more excruciating. Before I realize what I’m doing, I whirl around, my knife flashing as I press it to Callum’s throat. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans into the blade, his dark eyes locking with mine. His mouth slowly widens into a wolfish grin, and flickers of amusement dance in his gaze, daring me.
Confusion clouds my anger. Then it hits me like a blow—I’m not angry withhim.
Callum takes my wrist gently, guiding the knife away. His expression shifts, his smile fading as he looks at me,reallylooks at me. I can see something like understanding in his eyes, a quiet softness that catches me off guard. In one fluid motion, he takes the dagger from my hand and sheaths it at my thigh, swift and precise—no lingering touches, no comfort.
I look up at him, as he straightens, rolling his shoulders back, and for a brief second, I almost forget the anger that still clings to me.
“You brought me to him like some animal being led to slaughter,” I bite out, the words incisive and bitter.
Callum tilts his head, his fingers brushing a loose strand of red hair from my face. He tucks it behind my ear, the touch almost tender, and my heart skips despite myself.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he says, his voice now serious, no trace of his usual mirth.
I look up at him, my breath catching, though I’m trying to stay steady, to keep the walls I’ve built around myself intact.
“You’re playing a game you don’t even know you’re a part of,” he continues, his hand cupping my face gently. “You’re a pawn in this, but forhim...”
His eyes drop to the tear slipping down my cheek, lingering there before drifting lower—to my lips. His jaw tightens, the noticeable clench sending a jolt of unease through me. The air shifts, and then he leans in, as if he’s about to…
Instinctively, I shove him away, the reaction visceral and immediate, as if my body moved before my mind could catch up. Frustration builds inside me, the constant back-and-forth of this stupid game pushing me to the edge.
Callum chuckles, but there’s something soft in it now.
“Shut it,” I mutter, turning to walk toward the palace again, my pace quickening.
“Oh, I’ll shut my mouth,Princess,” he calls after me, his tone teasing. “If you open yours.”
I stop in my tracks, his words cutting deeper than I want to admit. I should be angry—furious even—but something else stirs beneath the surface. A bitter enjoyment. Callum using my title like that, the way Casper does—turning ‘princess’ into something far more intimate, as though it’s his own personal nickname. It’s infuriating and yet, somehow, amusing.
He’s cunning, silver-tongued, but undeniably clever. A strange mix of irritation and reluctant admiration churns inside me, making it impossible to simply dismiss him. If things were different, if weweren’t enemies, maybe we could have been something else entirely… maybe even friends.
23
CASPER
My irritation at leaving Lailah and Callum behind is nearly suffocating. Every step away from them feels like a betrayal—especially Lailah. The warmth of her touch still burns against my skin, and I can't shake the memory of how effortlessly we fit together. Her lips, soft and inviting, her body pressed against mine, and how perfect it all felt, just as I had imagined. My heart races at the thought.
I want to stay, to figure this out with her, to talk about what this means for us. But the moment I thought I could indulge in that quiet, stolen peace, Gwyn finds me. She brings news—new, urgent information.
The plan has already been set in motion. There’s no room for distractions. No room for weakness. Even if every part of me screams to turn back and feel her warmth again, I know the reason I’m doing all of this is for her, even if she doesn't understand it. Even if I can’t explain it.
As I walk into the tavern, my eyes lock with Gwyn’s, then Alias's. I nod once, a silent command, signaling for us to head to the basement. It’s the place where we’ve always met when we need to be seen,but not heard—a place where we can show our faces to the guards but disappear from sight when we need to plan, to discuss, to plot.
The stairs creak beneath my feet as we descend into the cool, dimly lit depths of the tavern. The air smells of wine, stale bread, and dust—an earthy, almost oppressive scent. Cobwebs cling to the beams overhead. Down in the shadows, Malachi waits, leaning casually against a stack of barrels, his arms folded. His eyes narrow as they meet mine. There’s an alertness there, a recognition of what’s at stake.
Alias takes a seat on a nearby barrel, biting into a red apple with a loud crunch. Gwyn’s gaze is fixed on me, her face stoic, but I can see the concern in her eyes.
“What did you find out?” The words come out a little rougher than intended, like I’m fighting to keep control of everything I don’t want to feel.
“Lord Striden sent two riders out tonight. He’s working with King Sarris and is aware of Clyde’s next moves,” she tells me.
