Page 38 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
He lifts his glass in a mock toast. The others turn to look at me,evaluating me, as though my very presence is a challenge they need to best. I meet their stares briefly, my expression blank, before walking toward the desk. Internally, I dismiss their scrutiny—they’re not worth the effort.
Clyde’s gaze follows me as I reach for the glass of amber waiting on the desk. His smile isn’t just amused—it’s pompous. He revels in my indifference, twisting it into his own triumph. I hate him for it.
Jason steps forward, breaking the silence. “Ghost, is it?” His voice carries an air of feigned politeness as he extends a hand toward me, his movements calculated.
At the same moment, I lift the glass to my lips and take a slow sip of the amber. The liquid burns as it slides down, but it’s nothing compared to the fire simmering beneath my skin. I don’t so much as glance at Jason’s hand, let alone acknowledge his existence. His outstretched fingers twitch slightly before he pulls back, the uncertainty in his eyes quickly masked with a sly grin.
Smart boy.
Clyde leans back in his chair.
“Now that we’re all here,” he begins, his tone dripping with false camaraderie, “let’s discuss the matter at hand. This engagement between my daughter and Jason—it’s a partnership that will strengthen both our houses.”
Partnership.The word cuts through me like a blade. Clyde uses it so casually, as if it means anything beyond what it truly is: another manipulation, another scheme.
“Well, naturally, my son will make an excellent husband for your daughter, King Clyde,” Striden says, his voice polished and confident, though it rings hollow to my ears.
Clyde’s grin deepens as his eyes flick to me, daring me to react. I stay silent, keeping my expression neutral.
“And, of course,” Striden continues, “the dowry your family provides will be… generous, I presume.”
“Ah, yes, the dowry,” Clyde says smoothly. He rises from his chair, moving toward the desk with grace. “It will be handed over onceJason fulfills his part of tradition and claims his stag at the engagement hunt.”
He gestures toward Jason with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming. “Only then will the alliance be fully sealed.”
Jason’s lips curl into a smug smirk.
“Of course, my King,” he replies, brimming with confidence.
Clyde’s grin widens further, his approval all the more evident.
“I expect nothing less. After all, this tradition isn’t merely symbolic—it’s about proving oneself worthy of the role you’re about to assume.”
Jason glances toward his father, who nods in silent affirmation, and Jason’s expression deepens as if his victory is already assured. Clyde’s words hang in the air, and I feel the familiar twist of disdain in my chest.
“However, there is a matter of logistics I’d like to discuss,” Clyde says, slicing through the faint tension in the room.
He strides toward the map on the wall, sliding aside a section to reveal another beneath it. His finger glides over it, stopping at a barren desert just beyond Lord Striden’s borders.
“I wish to station my army here,” Clyde continues, calm yet commanding. “And I expect your full support during their stay.”
Striden’s polished smile fades, unease breaking through his practiced composure.
“Your Grace, we would be honored to host your forces, but… the resources to sustain such a presence may stretch us thin.”
Clyde turns back to the room, swirling the wine in his glass with slow precision. He takes a measured sip. “I have no doubt you’ll manage, Lord Striden. This alliance is, after all, mutually beneficial.”
“Additionally, the soldiers are under your command. Whatever assistance you require, I’m confident they will be eager to help,” he continues, calculated. His gaze shifts to Jason. “And that includesGhost.Feel free to use him however you see fit.”
With that, he strides to the desk, retrieving an envelope sealed with his insignia. Turning to Jason, he holds it out with an exaggerated flourish, as though presenting him with some great treasure.Jason steps forward, his smirk widening as he takes the envelope, clutching it with barely contained arrogance.
He looks like a boy handed his first sword.
“We’ll ensure everything runs smoothly, Your Grace.”
Clyde clasps his shoulder, his expression the picture of paternal pride.
“I trust you will. And I trust you and my daughter will bless me with many grandchildren.” His voice drips with mock affection, but Jason, blind to the venom laced beneath the words, merely chuckles.
