Page 84 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“You really think sheneedsprotecting?” Callum’s voice cuts through, dry and biting.
He finally moves, pushing off the tent pole. He removes the knife from its holster, spinning it lazily between his fingers as he speaks, not even sparing me a glance. My jaw tightens at the challenge in his tone.
“And what exactly are you suggesting, Callum?”
He shrugs, the motion as casual as it is irritating.
“The princess hasn’t lifted a finger since her arrival to the castle. She has guards for that.”
I snap my attention to him, my voice colder now.
“Andyoutrust the guards?”
Callum rolls his eyes as if the question itself is ridiculous, the kind of look that makes me want to punch him just to see if he’d react. His knife stills in his hand as he raises it, pointing it lazily in my direction.
“I think you’re risking exposure by keeping eyes on her,” he says, as if he’s stating an irrefutable fact.
The bite in his words sinks deeper than I’d like, but I refuse to let it show.
“Are you offering to be her shadow again?” I ask, locking eyes with him.
His mouth tightens, like he’s swallowing the words he really wants to say.
“Not my job anymore,” he says, his eyes narrowing as if daring me to push further.
The room grows quiet again. Malachi doesn’t move, his presence steady and unshakable as always, a shadow in the corner. Alias and Gwyn exchange a glance, their usual banter muted now, replaced by wariness. I let the silence stretch, my gaze drifting over each of them, waiting for the weight of the moment to sink in. Slowly, I straighten and carefully roll the map, tucking it under my arm.
“I’ll need all of you at the ball,” I say, the exhaustion tugging at my voice. I rub the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to focus. “Extra eyes on Clyde. No mistakes.”
Gwyn sighs, placing her hands on her hips as she tilts her head at me.
“Does that mean I actually have to dress for this mess?” she asks, her tone half-serious, though the edge in her voice suggests she’s already dreading it.
Alias’s grin breaks through the tension like a crack in stone.
“If you need help getting ready, Gwyn, I’m more than happy to lend a hand.”
“Or lose one,” she shoots back, narrowing her eyes at him.
There’s a faint smirk on her lips, though, as she steps back from the table. When her gaze shifts back to me, the humor fades, replaced by the anticipation of what’s ahead.
“One last night before we can finally be rid of all of this,” she mutters.
I nod, my exhaustion heavy on my shoulders.
“Five more days,” I say, my voice firm, cutting through the quiet. “We reach Striden’s borders, set up camp, and make our move. The stone is the only thing that matters now.”
Gwyn nods, her expression set, and Alias lets out a low hum, his usual humor subdued for once. They leave together, Alias still grinning as Gwyn mutters something under her breath. Callum, who’s been watching in silence, finally moves. He fastens the knife at his belt before trailing out without a word, his footsteps fading into the night.
Malachi stays. The silence stretches as he steps forward, watching me with calm, yet heavy eyes before he finally speaks.
“Are you really going to leave her?” His voice is quiet but pointed, the kind of question that sinks its claws in and doesn’t let go.
My jaw clenches, but I don’t answer. The words stick in my throat. I stay rooted where I am, staring at the map on the table. The edges curl under the weight of everything it represents—territory, strategy, lives. None of it feels as heavy as the thought of what the day will bring.
Then I hear it.
The low, deep toll of the wedding bells rolls through the night like a death knell. My chest tightens as the sound reverberates through the camp, each chime striking with cruel finality.
