Page 47 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
The aroma of roasted meats and spiced pastries mingles with the faint perfumes of the elegantly dressed nobles now gathering behind the grand double doors. Crimson roses and dark orchids, arranged in gleaming vases, are rushed into place along the walls, their vivid hues splashes of life against the muted stone. Servants balance silver trays bearing goblets of wine and platters of delicate cheeses and cured meats, weaving through the chaos, their faces betraying no hint of the urgency in their steps.
From within the ballroom, the faint chime of crystal rings out as goblets are raised in toasts, accompanied by the melodic strains of a string quartet. The muffled cadence of footsteps and laughter paints a picture of grandeur, every sound underscoring the opulence awaiting beyond the closed doors. The chandeliers’ golden light spills into the hall, their pendants scattering fractured rainbows across the polished floors as if the celebration itself has begun to seep out into the corridors.
I pause, the sounds and scents enveloping me, pulling me into the pulse of the evening. My anticipation grows as I watch the servants complete their final tasks, the glow of candelabras highlighting the sheen of sweat on their brows. Their urgency is no longer preparation but maintenance, an unspoken effort to keep the illusion of effortless perfection intact.
A young maid rushes past me, a towering arrangement of roses cradled in her arms. She hesitates as our eyes meet, then quickly dips into a low curtsy before scurrying off, her head bowed. Their deference follows me, as always, a constant reminder of the role I must embody.
A prospective bride must endure temptation, her love tested by the charm and allure of others. Meanwhile, the groom embarks on a hunt, tasked with claiming a prize that symbolizes his right to her hand. His success depends on his speed, for if he delays too long, he risks another stealing her heart. It is a dangerous game, one vampires revel in, where every glance and touch becomes a test of loyalty and desire.
No vampire would dare approach me without my father’s blessing—not with his shadow looming over us all. Tonight, I am untouchable. I am not just a bride, but the daughter of the Vampire King. This is his spectacle, his carefully crafted display of power and control. Tonight, I will play my role to perfection, just as everyone else will.
As I make my way through the castle halls, rich scents wrap around me, offering a fleeting distraction from what I’ll soon endure. Approaching the main staircase, a sudden tingling sensation crawls up my spine, halting me mid-step. The warmth of the festival seems to dissolve, replaced by an eerie restlessness that settles in the air around me. My senses heighten and my eyes narrow as I scan the dimly lit corridor for the source of this unease.
Then I see it—a dark figure cloaked in shadow, slipping purposefully toward the back staircase of the east wing. Their movements are too calculated for someone merely attending a celebration.
Suspicion begs me to pause before curiosity propels me forward. Everyone else is heading toward the ballroom, yet this stranger appears to have other intentions. Keeping my steps light and silent, I follow, slinking through the corridor. The figure disappears around a corner, and I quicken my pace, my hand instinctively brushing the hilt of the dagger concealed at my side.
Just as I am about to close the distance, a gentle touch on my shoulder startles me. My instincts take over as I spin around in a blur, drawing my blade and pressing its edge against the throat of the intruder.
Wide, bright blue eyes meet mine. His brows lift high in exaggerated surprise before his face breaks into an unrestrained grin.
“Easy there, little sister. It’s just me,” he teases, his hands shooting up in mock surrender.
“Lucas!” His name bursts from my lips, the sight of his carefree smile both startling and disarming. Relief floods through me, my heart pounding as I try to process the unexpected brightness in his demeanor.
I let out a shaky breath, lowering the dagger and sliding the blade back into its sheath, the metallic click lingering in the air as a stark reminder of how close I had come to striking.
Before I can say anything, Lucas steps closer, his grin widening with a familiar warmth that is both comforting and disarming. His shorter, neatly cropped hair frames his sun-kissed face, a striking contrast to the wild mane I remember from our younger days. Though his appearance has changed, his piercing blue eyes remain the same—playful, bright, and filled with mischief.
Without warning, he sweeps me into his arms, spinning me effortlessly as if the years of separation had melted away.
“Put me down!” I laugh, swatting at his shoulder, though the sound of my own laughter surprises me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, breathless. “I thought you were stationed at the western borders.”
“And miss my younger sister’s betrothal?”
He chuckles, eyes scanning me more softly now.
“You look beautiful, Lailah.”
The teasing tone in his voice falters just enough to let something else slip through—pride. I study him in return. The scrawny boy I once knew is gone, replaced by a man whose frame is broader, whose muscles are honed from years of training in the royal guard. The shorter hair suits him, highlighting the angle of his jawline and the maturity etched into his features.
Before I can comment, he pulls me into a firm hug.
I exhale, tension slipping away. “I missed you.”
The world feels lighter in his embrace, but the moment is fleeting.
“Me too,” he murmurs, and something in his voice breaks me.
My breath hitches, and before I can stop them, tears begin to gather in my eyes. His arms remain around me, strong and steady. As quickly as the warmth comes, it passes. Lucas steps back, scanning me as if trying to memorize every change time has carved into my face.
Then, with a familiar glint in his eye, he tilts his head at me.
“Where is this mysterious betrothed of yours? I think it’s only fair that I meet him—and decide for myself if he’s worthy.”
I roll my eyes, knowing full well he’s teasing, though the mock-serious tone almost convinces me otherwise.
