Page 125 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
The hall falls still. His words hang in the air, shameless and crude. Gasps echo softly from some of the guests who dare to react, but Clyde seems entirely unfazed, his smile widening as he watches for her reaction.
Lailah doesn’t falter. Instead, she straightens her shoulders, tilting her chin upward with a practiced coyness that feels both regal and defiant. Her lips curl into a serene smile as she turns her gaze to Jason.
“I am greatly satisfied, Father,” she says, her voice smooth and honeyed. “A perfect match in every way.”
Jason’s expression doesn’t waver. He plays his role effortlessly, smiling down at her with a warmth that feels genuine, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as though he truly believes they’re the image of wedded bliss.
I clench my jaw, bile rising in my throat at the sight of their staged intimacy. Jason’s hand on hers, the way she leans into him—it ignites something dark in me. My fists curl tightly at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I force myself to remain still, even as every instinct screams to tear them apart.
Clyde’s gaze drifts to me then, his amusement like a predator’s satisfaction at cornering its prey.
“Ghost,” he drawls, his voice mocking, “doesn’t she look extraordinary? Positively glowing. Though, I suppose with Jason taking suchgoodcare of her, that’s to be expected.”
The words are laced with cruelty, every syllable intended to provoke. My jaw tightens further, but I steel my expression. My gaze shifts to Lailah, who stands resolute, her smile calm and controlled as though his words mean nothing. For a fleeting moment, our eyes meet. There’s something there—defiance, maybe understanding—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Yes,” I say finally, my voice even but clipped. “Beautiful.”
Lailah beams at Jason, her attention shifting back to him as though I don’t exist. Her fingers trail lightly against his arm, her touch so calculated it feels like a dagger meant to twist deep into my back. She leans closer to him, the diamonds on her shawl glinting like armor.
Vanessa chooses that moment to step forward, moving to my side with predatory grace, her arm sliding around my neck. Before I can stop her, her lips capture mine in a theatrical kiss that’s as exaggerated as it is revolting. Her moan is loud, almost obscene, echoing through the hall with the precision of a perfectly rehearsed act.
When she finally pulls away, a self-satisfied smirk tugs at her lips.
“Yes,verybeautiful, Princess,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery.
I glance back at Lailah, and her expression has hardened. Her eyes are cold now, her posture rigid as if she’s trying to bury whatever emotions are threatening to surface. Her fingers curl against the fabric of her dress, a small but telling sign of her restraint.
Clyde chuckles low as he leans back, humming softly like a man admiring his handiwork. His eyes gleam as he watches, the tension between us feeding his satisfaction.
Vanessa steps back slightly, her gaze flitting to Clyde for approval, while I force a tight smile. Inside, frustration churns, but I bury it deep. Jason leans down to whisper something softly into Lailah’s ear,his hand resting protectively on hers. She smiles at him, a look of warmth and serenity on her face.
Vanessa’s nails trail along my arm as she murmurs something in my ear, but her words are drowned out by the roar of my own thoughts. My focus remains locked on Lailah as she glances at me one last time, before she turns away, retreating fully into Jason’s side.
“Father?” Lailah’s voice cuts through the din, softer now, but with a clarity that makes everyone pause.
Clyde’s attention snaps back to her, his head tilting in that overly indulgent way of his, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his expression.
“Yes, my sweet?”
Lailah smiles, a delicate, almost disarming curve of her lips that hides the steel beneath.
“Jason and I were thinking,” she says gently, “how lovely it would be to honeymoon at the palace by the river for a week or two, instead of traveling with the army to the Striden lands.”
The air in the room seems to shift, and I feel the knot of frustration in my core tighten. My gaze darts to Jason, who stands tall beside her. He’s silent, but the disquiet in his frame is clear as he glances between Lailah and Clyde.
Clyde’s brows furrow slightly, his mask of affection cracking just enough to reveal the calculating mind beneath. He hesitates, as though weighing the request against his plans, before speaking.
“My sweet,” he begins, his voice low and coaxing, “I don’t think it’s safe for the two of you to venture alone into the Riverlands.” He pauses, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the arm of his chair. “It’s a beautiful place, yes, but secluded. Hard to defend. And given the… delicate nature of these times, I would feel much more comfortable knowing you’re protected.”
The calculated gentleness of his words makes my jaw clench. Every syllable feels like a veiled maneuver, his concern an artful guise for keeping her—and his plans—exactly where he wants them.
“I understand your concern, Father,” Lailah replies, her voice still sweet, though the subtle edge hasn’t softened. “But surely Jason and Iwouldn’t be completely alone? A small retinue, perhaps? A few guards? It would still give us the privacy to enjoy some peace after…” She trails off, her lashes lowering just enough to sell the image of a dutiful bride shyly deferring to her father’s wisdom.
Clyde chuckles softly, but the sound is devoid of warmth.
“You make a compelling case, my dear,” he says, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But my decision stands. The Striden lands are safer. You’ll travel with the army, and Jason will show you his home. After all, it will beyourfuture home, won’t it?”
Lailah’s smile falters for the briefest moment before she recovers, her hands clasped in front of her to keep from fidgeting.
