Page 65 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“How noble.”
He flinches again, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he lifts his head, his golden eyes meeting mine, and I see his guilt reflected there.
“I know I hurt you,” he says, his voice at last laden with remorse. "I know I betrayed you, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But tonight, and tomorrow, we stand before the court, and we can’t?—"
My magic hums to life, a soft thrum beneath the surface of my skin. The air grows cooler, and the candles flicker. Jason’s words die on his tongue, his brow furrowing as he pauses.
He looks at me then, really looks, as if he's just realized how much has changed. The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for what he was about to say—what he always says—to collide with the reality of what’s already broken.
He lets my words hang in the silence before he speaks again.
“She meant nothing to me,” he says quietly. He sounds—and looks—defeated, worn.
I stare at him, his words cutting through my anger like a double-edged blade. They leave me feeling far more vulnerable than I want to admit.
“Prove it,” I finally say, quiet but firm, before stepping back, putting more distance between us.
Jason doesn’t move right away. He stays rooted in place, his eyes locked onto mine as though searching for an answer, a reprieve, a way to undo the damage. His brows knit tighter, his face contorted in frustration and regret as his breath becomes shallow. But he doesn’t say a word.
Jason studies me a little longer, his brow furrowing deeper as though he’s trying to make sense of the mess he’s created. Then, slowly, he exhales, his breath shaky and uneven. He steps back, the tension in the room shifting as he increases the distance. His hand brushes the back of a chair, his fingers gripping it tightly, briefly before he releases it. When he finally turns, he doesn’t look at me again.
He slowly makes his way to the stairs, the weight of his retreat washing over me. When he reaches the bottom step, he pauses, one hand resting on the banister.
“I thought of you,” he stammers, barely audible.
Tears begin to prick at my eyes
“Even when I tried not to,” he continues, his voice lower now. “Even when I told myself it didn’t matter anymore.”
A breath, shaky. “It did. Gods,youdid.”
He shakes his head then, a quiet exhale escaping him—as if admitting the truth costs more than he expected.
I break, letting the tears fall, blurring the edges of his face.
Without another word, he climbs the stairs, each step echoing in the quiet library, and I watch him retreat into the shadows. When he finally disappears, the stillness left in his wake feels suffocating.
I sink back into my chair, my breath shuddering as I try to steady myself. I feel my magic stir, restless and demanding, feeding off the anger and confusion that churn inside me. It prickles at my skin, cold and electric, testing the barriers I’ve built to contain it. I grip the edge of the table, my gloved hands trembling as I fight to hold it back. My breath comes fast and shallow, and I close my eyes, trying to focus on the rhythm of the fire’s crackle.
But it’s no use. The emotions roil inside me, too powerful to suppress, and my magic flares in response, an electric current that sends a chill through me.
“Control,” I whisper hoarsely, the words trembling on my lips as I force myself to take another deep breath.
The firelight reflects off the pages of the book in front of me, but I can’t bring myself to read. My vision blurs with the sting of shed tears, and I press my palms flat against the table in a futile attempt to ground myself.
I’m supposed to marry him tomorrow. The thought churns in my stomach like spoiled wine. The traditions are meant to be beautiful, a story of love and trust woven across three days of ceremony. But to me, they feel suffocating. Tonight, the court will watch as we eat together, dance together, and present ourselves as the picture of harmony. They’ll look for signs of devotion, of joy, of the unity they expect us to embody.
And I’ll have to pretend. Pretend that the rift isn’t growing wider with every passing moment. Pretend that I’m not bracing myself for a life I no longer know how to want. Pretend to besomeone I am not.
13
CASPER
Seeing Lailah at the ball last night was everything I had craved, a bittersweet indulgence that cut deeper than I’d anticipated. Her presence haunted me from the moment I left her, a relentless ache that dug its claws into me and refused to let go. Even when I fell back asleep, she invaded my dreams, vivid and unrelenting.
I pictured her beneath me, her body arching, her soft moans ringing in my ears. It was the kind of dream that burned itself into my mind, so real that waking up felt like being ripped from something I could almost taste.
Their chime cut through the silence, a slow, echoing toll that vibrated through the stone walls. Wedding bells. A cruel reminder of what was coming—of what she would be to someone else soon enough. The sound seeped into my bones, dragging me back to a reality I wanted no part of.
