Page 131 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
"I can’t—" My voice catches, my jaw locking, my forehead pressing harder against hers, as if I can force her to understand. "I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not tothis."
My fingers ghost over her jaw, my breath hot and uneven against her lips.
"You aremine, Lailah. And gods help me, I don’t know how to be anything else butyours."
Her breath quickens, and for a fleeting moment, I think I’ve reached her. I can see it in the way her pain and longing swirl beneath the surface. Her lips part, and I feel my heart twist, hoping that what we have is real, that maybe we can bridge the distance that’s always been between us.
But then her hands rise, trembling just slightly as she places them over mine. The touch is soft, hesitant, like even this small connection costs her more than she can afford to give. Slowly, she pulls my hands away from her face, and the warmth of her skin slips through my fingers like sand, leaving me with nothing but an aching emptiness.
“Stop,” she whispers, her voice breaking as though every word is a struggle. Yet there’s a firmness to it, a resolve that cuts right through me. “Please, just stop.”
Her words land like a blow, and I know. I know this is my fault. My silence, my refusal to be truthful, has built this chasm.
“Lailah,” I try, my voice faltering, but it’s too late. She takes a step back, and then another.
Her composure wavers, her lips trembling as if she might speak, but she doesn’t. Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t turn. She justexhales, her breath shaky, and she walks away. Each step she takes feels like a knife twisting deeper. I don’t move to stop her—I can’t. Not when I know this is my doing. I stand there, watching her retreat into the distance, until she disappears completely, leaving nothing but the cold void of what I couldn’t say.
28
LAILAH
The corridors stretch endlessly as I leave the throne room, each step taking me further from answers and deeper into uncertainty. My footsteps echo softly, swallowed by everything left unsaid. I left Casper, hoping—foolishly—that this time, he would offer me the truth. Instead, I was met with the same silence, the same guarded stares and carefully measured words. He gave me nothing, and it was worse than hearing a lie. It felt like a dismissal, a choice to keep me in the dark.
Jason’s attempt to change my father’s mind about traveling with the army had failed. My father’s decision was resolute, his reasoning hidden behind a ruthless smile. He hadn’t even summoned me to discuss the plans, leaving me feeling like a pawn in a game I barely understood. The sense of isolation gnaws at me, feeding a growing dread that everyone around me is hiding something. Every glance, every whispered word behind closed doors, feels like a thread in a web I’m trapped in, one I can’t unravel.
I ascend the east wing staircase, the diamond shawl I’d discarded now draped back over my shoulders. Its cold brilliance mocks me with every step. This symbol of wealth and status, of supposed power, feels like a cruel reminder of the charade Jason and I performedtonight. My mask had been flawless, my smile calculated, my words perfectly rehearsed. But the nausea swirling in my stomach tells a different story. Beneath the surface, I’m crumbling, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it all together.
No one is being honest—not Casper, not Jason, not even my father. And me? I’m no better. I’ve played my part in this farce, lied through gritted teeth, and smiled when I wanted to scream. I don’t know what’s worse: the lies they tell me or the lies I’ve told myself. That I’m in control. That I have a choice. That any of this will end in something other than tragedy.
The thought of traveling to the Striden lands, of honeymooning under Casper’s gaze, fills me with dread. The idea of him being near me—so close yet so untouchable—feels unbearable. How can I stand next to Jason, my husband, when every glance from Casper feels like it’s unraveling me?
Even in my dreams, Casper haunts me. The taste of him, the feel of his lips on mine, lingers like a brand. And yet, it’s not just desire that ties me to him—it’s the lies. The secrets he keeps, the truth he won’t tell me. They burrow under my skin, festering like a wound that refuses to heal. Everyone is lying to me, and I’m drowning in the weight of it all. No matter how hard I try, the truth slips further from my grasp.
The corridors are silent, the faint echo of my steps swallowed by the thick, oppressive air of the castle. My hands trail along the cold stone walls as I walk, my thoughts a tangled web of frustration and doubt. As I near the east wing, a figure catches my attention. Leaning casually against the stone wall is the guard who barged into my chambers the other night with Jason. His auburn hair glints under the torchlight, his keen blue eyes cutting through the dim corridor. He doesn’t startle or straighten as I approach. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, watching me with the faintest hint of intrigue, as though waiting to see what I’ll do.
I stop just short of my door, a spark of curiosity flaring in the pit of my stomach. Without breaking stride, I push the door open and step inside, leaving it ajar. The room is quiet, the air heavy with thelingering scent of polished wood and faint traces of jasmine. I hesitate, then glance back toward the hall, my pulse quickening.
“You,” I say, my voice firm but curious. He doesn’t move immediately. “Come in here.”
His intrigue deepens, a subtle shift in his gaze that chills me. After a moment’s pause, he steps forward cautiously. As he crosses the threshold, I step aside, allowing him to enter. The door clicks softly shut behind him, the sound strangely final.
The guard stands just inside the room, his presence commanding despite his silence. He doesn’t speak or offer an explanation. Instead, he scans the space, taking in every detail with calculated precision. There’s no urgency to his movements, only the masterful control of someone who’s seen far more than he lets on.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice tight as I shrug off the diamond shawl.
It falls to the floor in a glittering heap, forgotten as I cross my arms over my chest. He doesn’t answer right away, his focus shifting to the corners of the room, as though searching for something unseen. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a quiet intensity to him.
“Make sure no one can hear us.” he says, his tone calm but authoritative.
There’s no urgency in his voice, no alarm—just a certainty that makes my magic stir instinctively. I press my hands against the cool stone walls, letting the darkness flow from my fingertips. It spreads like ink, curling through the air and sealing the room in impenetrable silence.
Satisfied, the guard steps back, keeping a careful distance. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until I finally break it.
“You’re one of his men,” I say carefully, narrowing my gaze. “Like Callum.”
A faint smile touches his lips, barely there but enough to send a ripple of unease through me.
“I’m nothing like Callum.”
