Page 44 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
I push forward, my steps quickening as if my thoughts are too heavy to carry in this empty hall. By the time I reach the corridor, my breath is tight, and my jaw aches from holding back the scream clawing its way to the surface.
Then, I hear it—a soft, muffled laugh.
The sound stops me in my tracks. It’s light, fleeting, almost like a ghost of a sound, but unmistakable. My heart pounds as I strain to listen, my pulse quickening as I edge closer. The faint echo of footsteps follows, fading into the quiet hum of the castle.
I round the corner quietly, sticking to the shadows, and there she is. The blonde servant. Her figure is unmistakable as she moves swiftly down the corridor, glancing back over her shoulder. Her expression is indecipherable as she approaches the hidden door to the servants’ staircase.
The memory of her and Jason flashes through my mind, stinging and vivid, and my stomach twists painfully. I stay silent, watching as she opens the door. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder again, but her eyes don’t find me. She slips into the darkness beyond, the faint click of the door closing behind her echoing in the corridor.
I don’t need to follow her to know who she’s meeting. The ache in my chest swells, bitterness twisting through me like poison.Jason. Always Jason. Even now, after everything, he can’t seem to stop.
I turn, quickly heading for my room. The corridor feels colder, narrower. The ache of betrayal throbs with every step, but I force it down, unwilling to let it take hold of me here.
When I reach my chambers, I shut the door firmly behind me, leaning against it as the final engagement bell rings out. Its low chime fills the air, washing over me like a cruel reminder of what’s to come. My breath shakes, and my vision blurs as tears well up, hot and relentless.
This time, I don’t fight them as I sink to the cold stone floor, the weight of everything pressing down on me until I feel like I mightbreak. Jason’s betrayal, the memories I can’t erase, the life waiting for me tomorrow—it’s all too much, too heavy.
8
LAILAH
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Sera’s voice rings through the haze of my pounding headache, pulling me from the restless edge of sleep.
The pain in my head feels like an anchor, a dull throb that refuses to let go, and I know exactly what caused it. I don’t cry often. Not truly. Tears have become more of a tool than a release, a weapon I’ve learned to wield against those foolish enough to believe in my vulnerability.
My father taught me early on that exploiting weakness, especially my own, is a powerful advantage. Real tears, however, come with a cost. The rare times they escape my defenses, they leave me like this. My head pounds, my body feels heavy, and emotions claw at the fragile edges of my resolve.
These tears weren’t planned or calculated; they were raw, driven by the sting of being broken by someone I trusted. And now, in their aftermath, I feel exposed, the pain in my head a relentless reminder of Jason’s betrayal, of the cost of letting my guard down.
The fading light of dusk filters into the room as Sera sweeps back the curtains, flooding the space with a soft amber glow. Tonight is thenight of my engagement hunt. Invitations have already gone out, preparations are underway, and the weight of expectation presses against my shoulders. Vampires approach betrothals differently from humans. Where humans revere modesty and purity, vampires revel in indulgence and spectacle. My father, ever determined to secure my place in his world, has ensured that I’m treated as one of his own, despite my mortal blood.
But his vision for me has always clashed with human ideals. Over the years, he sent countless young men to my chambers, each a carefully chosen gift meant to awaken some imagined desire within me. He wanted me to explore, to experience life in a way only he knew. Yet, I never let any of them touch me. His persistent efforts only strengthened my resolve, solidifying the walls I’ve built around myself.
Physical touch has always been complicated. In my childhood, it was absent—or cruel. Rocks, mud, and fists from children who feared what they didn’t understand were the closest things I had to touch. No one reached out to comfort me, not until Lucas. Lucas understood being an outsider. He would share stolen moments of warmth—a shared laugh, a quiet assurance—that made the world feel just a little less hostile. Even now, I carry those memories with me, small and bright, in a life otherwise dominated by shadows.
When I came here, my father was the next to show me kindness. He brushed my hair, had the servants scrub my skin clean, and stroked my brow until I fell asleep by the fire. Once, he even let me cry in his lap, though he made sure I understood that tears were a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Now, every touch feels amplified, as though years of deprivation have left my skin vulnerable and exposed. The walls I’ve built keep most people at bay, but there are cracks—Lucas, my father, Sera… and Jason. He was once a crack I welcomed, his warmth and steady presence something I thought I could rely on. But now, everything has changed.
He doesn’t know that I know, doesn’t know how his choicesreshape the way I see him. Now, every memory feels tainted, as if his actions have poisoned the past.
I clench my fists, forcing the thoughts away. This is not the time for weakness. Tonight, I must stand before a room full of vampires and present myself as the flawless princess, the symbol of my father’s power and ambition. There is no space for anger, no room for my feelings. My pain is mine alone to carry, and I can’t afford for anyone—least of all Jason—to see how deeply his betrayal has cut me.
The pounding ache in my head refuses to fade. With a deep breath, I lift my trembling hand to my temple, allowing a thread of magic to flow through my fingers. The familiar hum reverberates across my skin, soothing the pain and cooling the heat beneath my palms. The relief is instant. As I lower my hand, the tips of my fingers feel numb, the cold lingering like frostbite. I flex them absently, trying to shake the sensation away.
“Lailah!” Sera’s resounding clap jolts me from my thoughts, her voice crisp and full of determination.
There’s no room for hesitation in her tone.
“We need to get you ready!” She’s already moving, heading toward the bathing chamber as if her energy alone can carry me through this night.
The faint scent of lavender and vanilla wafts into the air as she unscrews a jar of salts and pours them into the steaming water, filling the room with an almost intoxicating warmth. I press my chilled hands to my temples again, more out of habit than need, before letting them drop to my sides. I take a steadying breath and follow Sera into the bathing chamber, the sheet wrapped tightly around me, my bare feet padding softly against the cool floor.
The bathwater steams, tendrils of heat curling into the air as though they’re alive. I dip my fingers into the water and wince at the scalding temperature. Magic thrums at my fingertips as I cool the water. The sensation leaves my fingers even colder, the faint numbness deepening, but I ignore it. Behind me, Sera is distracted by my jewelry box, her hands carefully sifting through its contents with an expert’s precision.
The sheet slips from my shoulders, pooling at my feet as I step into the bath. The water envelops me, its warmth soothing the strain in my body. I sink beneath the surface, letting the world above blur and fade. The light filtering through the water turns the room into a shifting kaleidoscope of golds and ambers. For a brief moment, I can pretend this evening, Jason, everything, doesn’t exist.
But the illusion shatters as I break the surface with a gasp, coughing as water slips down my throat. Sera’s gaze is steady, hovering between concern and amusement as she leans casually against the counter.
