Page 147 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“No.”
I step past him, keeping my voice even despite the cracks forming inside me.
“You promised to be a better man. And now you’re just another one I can’t trust.”
I turn toward the tent flaps, my back to him. For a moment, I just stand there—still, silent, drowning in everything I’ve ever wanted to hear. My fingers lift, trembling slightly, as I reach for the fabric.
“Lailah,” he breathes, one last time. “What you saw was me playing my part. I swear it.” A pause. His voice cracks softly, steeped in something tender and full of regret.
“She isn’t you.”
Something inside me splinters, but I don’t let it show. Not now. I go quiet, still, the ache spreading so deep it numbs me. I don’t even realize I’m shaking my head until I speak, my voice flat and cold.
“Well… if that was you playing your part,” I murmur, “then tonight, you’ll need to do a hell of a lot better than that.”
I don’t give him the chance to respond. My steps are slow but certain as I slip through the tent flap without looking back, leaving Jason tangled in my final words. The day is crisp and biting as I step out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind me with a soft rustle. I don’t glance back at Jason; his confusion, his silence, his lies—they’ve all been left inside with him. The air feels heavier out here, though, laden with everything I’ve learned and everything still unanswered.
The ground beneath my boots is slick from the earlier rain, the earth shifting under my steps as I move away from the campfires. My mind spins, thoughts crashing into one another like waves in a storm. It’s all been about the stone. Every lie, every betrayal—it all ties back to that one thing.
A weapon capable of obliteratingeverything.
I clench my fists, haunted by the memory of the ghost in my room. Her voice echoes in my head, cutting through the chaos.
“He can’t have it.”
The words had felt like a cryptic warning at the time, distant and incomprehensible. But now, they strike with a clarity I can’t ignore.No man can have it.The stone wasn’t just a relic or a weapon—it was a curse, a burden too heavy for anyone to wield. And now, Iunderstand. The ghost’s warning wasn’t just a plea. It was a truth stitched into the fabric of fate.
The cool air bites at my skin as I pull my hood low over my head, my footsteps quickening toward the campfire. Alias and Gwyn sit side by side on a log, their knives gleaming as they sharpen them, the crackle of the flames dancing around their figures. I barely acknowledge them, my focus now on the tent where Gwyn had taken Celaena. I follow the narrow path, my eyes already fixed on what lies ahead.
As I approach the tent, a figure emerges like a predator from the dark.Callum. His eyes gleam with a mix of amusement and something darker, something I can't quite place.
“Well, well, well… didn’t think you were the vengeful wife type,” he drawls, tilting his head.
I’m not in the mood for his games. I roll my eyes and push past him, but before I can get any further, his hand shoots out, wrapping around my elbow with a firm, insistent grip. Instinctively, my dagger is at his throat in a heartbeat, the cold steel gliding against his skin.
Callum doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans in, his gaze darkening with a sultry edge as he presses himself into the blade.
“I believe we’ve done this dance before,” he teases, the words brushing against me like a physical touch.
I tilt my cloak back, our faces inches apart, and let the moment unfold. He pulls his hand away from my elbow, stepping back, but his sly grin never fades.
“Run along, puppy,” I sneer, my voice laced with venom. “Go tell your master where I am. Maybe I’ll get that collar and leash after all, so you don’t forget your place.”
I see it in Callum’s eyes before he says anything—hurt and confusion, a look I’ve never seen from him. His gaze, usually filled with playful flirtation, now holds something darker. It throws me off, makes me pause for a heartbeat. I don't know what to make of it, but it stings in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Leaving Callum outside, I step into the tent. Inside, Celaena huddles in the far corner, her hands stretched out, trying to soak inthe warmth of the glowing coals. A fur blanket is tightly wrapped around her shoulders, adding a sense of fragile comfort to her still form. Her eyes flicker with surprise as they lock onto mine, but that initial shock quickly shifts into disdain.
“Take off your dress,” I keep my voice curt as I look around the tent, avoiding her gaze. “Put on the slacks and shirt by the coals.”
She hesitates, but I don’t wait for permission. I turn my back, giving her some semblance of privacy, though I can’t help but notice the subtle rustle of fabric behind me as she strips off the yellow dress. My eyes quickly scan the room, taking in the dim lighting and the stillness of the space. I try to steady my breath, knowing what’s coming, knowing that once I give these orders, there’s no turning back.
After a brief moment, I hear the sound of fabric being pulled on, the soft rustle of the slacks, and then the silence. When I turn back, Celaena is already dressed in the new clothes—almost like she’s trying to escape this moment as much as I am.
“Let’s go,” I command, my voice cold and unwavering.
Celaena hesitates, her brows furrowing, confusion radiating off her like a tangible force. But after a moment, she stands and moves toward me. Her steps are stiff, almost reluctant. I step forward and remove my cloak, draping it gently around her shoulders. The touch of my gloved hand makes her tense, as though she’s expecting something more. I watch her flinch, a brief reaction before she recovers.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d already be,” I say softly, with a sly, almost mocking smile, watching her eyes soften with wary relief.
