Page 90 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
I bend slightly as my father places a deep burgundy mask upon my face, its delicate lace brushing against my skin. I look up to find him momentarily mesmerized, his gaze fixed on me as if he cannot quite look away. A small smile pulls at my lips, amused by the rare sight of my father so openly emotional, caught off guard by his own feelings. When he notices my smile, he rolls his eyes, masking his soft vulnerability, and leads me down the grand staircase into the ballroom.
As I descend, the eyes of every guest turn toward me, their gazes intense and full of expectation. My father takes two more steps downward, ensuring the crowd can see me clearly, and a warmth rises in me at the subtle, protective gesture.
He never allows anyone to have the higher ground over him—an unspoken sign of power and dominance that, at this moment, fills me with admiration. As all eyes fall upon him, he stands tall, preparing to speak, his presence commanding silence.
"As we know," he begins steadily, "my daughter is not a vampire, but that does not make her any less my blood."
His words settle over the room like a heavy mantle.
"Your princess," he continues, letting the title hang in the air, his gaze sweeping across the court. "I will take my leave during this waltz," he announces. "For I know that while the king’s gaze lingers, none of you would dare attempt what you came here for."
A hush falls over the room as my father steps forward, his presence rippling through the crowd like a tide pulling all attention toward him. He extends his hand, regal and steady, and I take it. The moment our fingers touch, a deep pulse stirs within me, and the air grows heavy with an otherworldly energy. Shadows begin to swirl, dark and alive, coiling around me in waves that seem to drink the light from the room.
The crimson of my gown bleeds into a deeper hue, darker than the depths of night, as if the fabric itself absorbs the magic surging around me. Gasps ripple through the crowd, awe and trepidation mingling as the room exhales in unison. The shadows cling to me, familiar and intoxicating, before dissolving into a faint, silken mist that hovers around my form like a ghostly veil.
When the transformation settles, I feel the shift in every stitch of fabric, every curve of the gown now molded to my body with an almost ethereal perfection. The dress hugs my figure, its lines sleek and sinuous, flowing like liquid midnight. The neckline plunges daringly, baring more of my skin as if the magic itself demands vulnerability and power in equal measure. Satin gathers at my waist, spilling down in elegant folds—each step drawing every eye in the room.
My mask has darkened, the once-deep red now a shade that borders on black. Lace creeps across its surface like vines, intricate patterns framing my eyes, adding a depth of mystery. The transformation is complete—an image of danger, allure, and command. For a moment, the room is silent, suspended in awe, as though the very air fears to disturb what I have become.
The effect is intentional—a show of the power I wield, the power my father and I share. Though it is little more than a parlor trick, an exhibition of the dark forces I can command, it serves its purpose—entertainment and awe. The humans may fear me, but the vampires of this court watch me with admiration, a respect reserved for those who are not mere mortals—those who cannot be slain so easily.
A side smirk pulls at my lips as my father guides me to the bottom of the staircase. His black suit gleams in the soft glow of the candlelight, the satin fabric tight against his chest. His white hair is pushed back, styled meticulously, and his ice-cold gaze remains unmasked, the only one in the room not hidden behind a veil of darkness.
As the music swells, my father takes my hand and places his other firmly on my back, guiding me with confidence and spinning me into the rhythm of the dance. Normally, I don’t see my father so at ease,but tonight, he moves with a fluid grace I rarely witness, and I can’t help but admire him.
“You are exquisite, my sweet,” he murmurs, his voice teeming with pride.
A flush creeps up my neck as I lower my gaze.
“I only hoped it would be everything you wished for,” I reply, lifting my chin. “That all of this… would be everything you imagined, Father.”
His eyes find mine, and for a moment something flickers within his gaze. Then his brow pulls faintly, a wrinkle of thought before he spins me again.
“I’ve never seen you dance like this before,” I say, my tone light but curious.
He chuckles low, a rare sound.
“That’s because I rarely have reason to perform. But tonight…” He leans in, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Tonight is about power cloaked in elegance. Seduction masked by ceremony.”
“And here I thought tonight was about celebration.”
His mouth curls into a grin.
“Dancing,” he says, spinning me again, slower this time, more deliberate, “has always been about control. And tonight, my sweet, that is something you will learn to wield.”
As we glide across the floor, I catch the faintest shift in his demeanor—a change I can’t quite place. I follow his gaze as it moves past me, but suddenly, I’m spun into the arms of another.
My breath catches as I find myself face-to-face with a vampire, his dark hair and piercing eyes locking onto mine. He smiles, his elongated fangs glinting as he fights to control his desire, the lust for my blood apparent in his gaze. This night will certainly be interesting.
Desired but never captured, my blood a prize never to be taken.
As the dance continues, I try to shift my focus, casting a glance toward my father in search of his familiar, commanding presence.
But when I look, he’s gone.
The crowd of dancers has swallowed him whole, and I feel aflicker of confusion. Though I know no one would dare act against me, whether my father is here or not, his absence feels…off.
Where could he have gone?
