Page 115 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
Striden’s treachery doesn’t surprise me—not after everything that’s happened, but I thought his son’s marriage to Clyde’sdaughtermight have swayed him. I didn’t expect him to go against Clyde’s wishes. It changes things.
“Did you take care of it?” I ask, biting back the irritation building inside me.
It’s hard to focus on anything but Lailah. Hard to think when I should be thinking of revenge.
Gwyn nods, confirming it’s been handled. I turn to walk toward Malachi, but before I can ask the question that’s been gnawing at me, he shakes his head. There’s something in his eyes—a hesitation I can’t ignore. It’s not about trust. It’s personal.
I glance back at Alias, who, with an almost irritatingly loud crunch of his apple, breaks the stillness. I know the frustration isn’t directed at him. It’s the situation. It’s the fact that I’m here, talking about matters of war and betrayal when all I really want is to be with her.
In a fit of frustration, I throw a knife at the tavern pillar. The appleis skewered mid-air, and Alias barely flinches. He just looks at me, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t get pissy at me because we stopped you from getting laid tonight,” he says, standing up and retrieving his apple from the wall.
Gwyn’s lips twitch, amused by Alias’s inability to ever take anything seriously. She doesn’t say anything, but I see the slight shake of her head. She knows what I’m really angry about.
Her gaze turns back to me, cool and calculating.
“I’ll leave, try to find out if Sarris had contact with Striden before Jason’s marriage to Clyde’s daughter. Maybe we’re missing a bigger picture here—maybe Striden’s betrayal is part of something more. We might be able to make an ally of him.”
I let out a low chuckle, amused by the thought of confronting Striden about his betrayal. The idea of calling him out to his face on his dirty dealings makes me grin, but it fades quickly. Striden can’t be trusted. Neither him nor his son.
“No. Stay close. We don’t need to seek any more information,” I reply, my eyes meeting Malachi’s.
There’s a glint of calculation in his gaze that sparks an idea.
“We won’t do anything yet. Stay silent, watch, listen. Striden’s stupidity is his downfall. He made his move when the lands were crawling with vampires at night. He doesn’t realize that we’re already watching him.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, leveraging the pain to stay centered in the moment. The mission.
“Alias, go to Vanessa,” I command. “She likes you more than anyone else. Let her know we need her to play her part tomorrow evening. Make sure she understands: Clyde is her target.”
Alias, of course, makes no effort to mask his enjoyment of the situation. He takes another loud crunch of his apple before walking off.
I watch Gwyn as Alias walks away, and there’s something in her eyes—something I’ve learned to recognize, the way she watches him with almost a possessive edge. She doesn’t say a word, but I see the jealousy simmering just beneath her calm exterior. She hatesanyone showing interest in him, and I know she can’t hide it from me.
Gwyn notices the way I look at her. The unspoken understanding hangs in the air. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head.
“Don’t say a word,” she mutters, heading back toward the tavern entrance.
I turn back to Malachi, his face stern as ever. I need the information I’ve asked for, and it’s time to get it.
He arches an eyebrow at me as if to see whether I’m in the right frame of mind to hear what’s coming. Stepping closer, he lowers his voice, ensuring only I can hear.
“She hasn’t slept in her private chamber since their wedding night.”
A hiss escapes me before I can stop it. The image of Jason’s hands on her flashes in my mind, and my heart clenches painfully. Malachi senses the shift in me, his hand falling to my shoulder, steadying me.
“They aren’t sharing a bed,” he continues. “Jason’s been sleeping in his private rooms. Leaving her alone.”
I stare at him, confusion sweeping through me. Why? What twisted game is Jason playing? The night he made those threats about claiming her body... it gnaws at me, and I can’t piece it together. Malachi steps past me, heading toward the stairs. Before he leaves, he pauses, his gaze lingering on me.
"She is extraordinary, you know," he says, his voice quieter now. "Even if her gaze could strike a man dead, there’s something in her eyes… something you can’t look away from."
I huff a quiet chuckle.
"She could, couldn’t she?" I murmur. "Those eyes… daggers in them."
Malachi pauses, turning slightly as if to gauge my reaction. His lips twitch at my tone, but he doesn’t comment. He knows what I mean—the way they seem to cut through everything. There’s a quiet ferocity there that could leave anyone in their path feeling like they’ve been pierced by a blade.
