Page 56 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking, the admission unguarded and real.
Casper’s eyes darken as though something is unraveling within him. The air crackles, and he leans in, his face so close that I feel the heat of his breath against my skin.
“I think we both know you can,” he murmurs, his voice hungrier. “Because youdo.”
The pull is unbearable, drawing me toward him despite every rational thought telling me to turn away. My heart races, my hold on him tightening as if he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
“Lailah,” he whispers, my name a plea on his lips, his voice heavy with something deeper than desire.
His eyes search mine with an intensity too strong to bear. But before either of us can speak, the moment shatters with a voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“Ghost.”
The single word is cold, commanding, and unmistakable. I whip around to see my father stepping onto the balcony, his presence casting a shadow that feels heavier than the night itself. His gaze lands on Casper, pointed and paralyzing, before flicking briefly to me.
10
CASPER
“Ghost,”the king’s voice cuts through the still air, harsh and commanding, sending a chill down my spine.
Lailah steps back immediately, instinctively putting distance between us. Her hands drop to her sides, clenched tightly, as though bracing for whatever is to come. The air around her shifts, heavy with something fragile. I see it—the slight tremble in her frame, the careful stillness of her breathing. She’s scared, but she hides it well.
“Father,” she says, her voice steady, though the undertone betrays her nerves. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
With measured steps, she moves past me. Her movements are controlled, as if each step keeps her emotions locked in place. I stay where I am, my mask firmly in place, offering nothing—not a glance, not a word. I can’t protect her here. Not from him. When her eyes dart toward me, seeking reassurance, I force myself to remain stone-cold. She knows better than to linger.
Her gaze shifts back to Clyde, who stands like a predator assessing his domain. His eyes follow her, before resting on me. The weight of his attention is suffocating, a silent declaration of ownership.Everything in this space—his daughter, this castle, the very air we breathe—belongs to him.
“You should hurry along, my sweet,” Clyde says, his tone deceptively soft, though cruelty drips from every syllable. “Your future husband may grow restless, and we both know his wandering eye doesn’t linger for long.”
Lailah’s shoulders stiffen, her head dipping ever so slightly as if to shield herself from the blow of his words. Her posture, always regal, now feels like armor. She doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns and walks toward the throne room doors, her steps quick but still composed. The grand doors close behind her, the sound echoing through the silence.
I watch her go, my jaw tightening. When I shift my gaze back to Clyde, he’s already watching me, his expression cool and calculating.
“Careful, Your Grace,” I say, my tone cool and cutting. “Your mask is slipping.”
He doesn’t falter. Instead, he adjusts the cuff of his sleeve with ease, every movement a calculated display of control.
“Go on, Ghost,” he replies, his tone laced with mockery. “Or have you forgotten whose bed she was promised to warm?”
The venom in his words lands like a physical blow, but I hold my ground. I harden my stare, unflinching, refusing to let him see any hint of the anger threatening to surface. Silence is my shield, and I let it stretch long enough to suffocate his satisfaction.
After a beat, Clyde chuckles and turns toward the throne room, disappearing behind the same doors Lailah just passed through. I release a breath, my nerves easing only slightly.
Turning to the balcony, I let my gaze drift toward the gardens below. The beauty of the moonlight dancing over the leaves feels hollow. Lailah’s fear still hangs heavy in my mind, and the memory of her fleeting glance lingers like a bruise that won’t fade. I run a hand over my jaw, trying to shake it. She’s a force I can’t escape, no matter how much I try to steel myself against her.
I should leave, but I can’t. Not yet. My eyes drift toward the grandwindows overlooking the ballroom. Inside, the golden glow of chandeliers bathes the room in a soft, opulent light.
And then I seeher.
Lailah stands near the far side of the room, her back rigid as she speaks with someone. The distance makes it hard to tell, but her discomfort is evident in the way she holds herself—like a bird ready to take flight. I clench my jaw as I track her every move, unwilling to let her out of my sight.
The ballroom doors open, and Jason steps inside. His golden-brown hair catches the light as his polished figure cuts through the crowd. He moves with ease, his expression calm, but when his eyes find hers, something shifts. Lailah turns toward him, and their gazes meet.
She relaxes, just slightly, the rigidity in her shoulders easing as Jason crosses the room to her. He bows his head in greeting, his lips curving into that warm, practiced smile he always wears. She doesn’t smile back, but she doesn’t retreat either. Their exchange is quiet, subtle, but it’s enough to make my heart sink.
I force myself to look away. Frustration churns within me, hot and relentless, as I grip the edge of the balcony railing. I’ve got to get out of here.
