Page 98 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“Are you okay?”
He meets my gaze, eyes gleaming with something that looks far too much like guilt beneath the grin.
“It was well deserved.”
Before I can say more, he leans in—close enough that I catch the faint scent of leather and blood—and murmurs low, “But I’d take worse if it meant you’d look at me like that again.”
Then, without warning, he spins me beneath the chandelier. The motion is effortless, almost tender, like he’s trying to steal one last moment of softness before the world catches up to us. The crowd fades for a second, their applause distant, the whispers blurred. It’s just us, moving as one. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way forward. A way to bridge the broken pieces of what we once had.
The music slows, the final notes stretching out as the dance comes to its end. Jason steps back slightly, his hand lingering on mine as we bow to the crowd. Their applause swells, a sound that should feel triumphant but instead drips with the weight of expectations I can’t seem to shake. My smile stays firmly in place, though my gaze drifts toward the shadows beyond the gilded room.
And thereheis.
Casper stands just out of the light, his presence a thundercloudon the edge of the horizon. His eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I feel the pull of a tide threatening to consume me. I force a smile, though my chest feels like it might collapse.
Jason and I step away from the dance floor, the applause of the crowd slowly dissipating. My father appears from the edge of the room, his towering figure commanding attention even as guests depart. His eyes soften as he approaches me. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple, his hand lingering on my shoulder as though to remind me of my station.
“You’ve done well tonight, my sweet,” he says, his voice low but firm. There’s no warmth in it, only approval.
He turns to Jason, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. His hand extends, gripping Jason’s in a firm shake that carries an unspoken warning.
“You know what’s expected,” he says simply.
Jason nods, his expression composed, though his fingers twitch slightly at his side once my father steps away.
As the doors close behind us, the echo of the ballroom lingers faintly in my ears. My steps falter, my gaze instinctively darting toward the shadows. Casper is nowhere to be found, his absence a void I can’t will away. I tell myself he’s already left, that he’s doing what he always does—disappearing before anyone can pin him down. But the unease doesn’t fade.
Jason’s hand tightens gently around mine, drawing me back into the present.
“We should head to the chambers,” he says, his voice soft but steady.
I nod, though my mind lingers elsewhere. As we walk through the quiet halls, the sense of disconnect deepens, each step pulling me further into the reality I can’t seem to escape. I always knew what this day had in store for me. Sera had prepared me, teaching me to maintain some semblance of control as I learned what it meant to be beneath another.
I knew exactly what was expected of me today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life. But as Jason and I make our way toward our sharedbedchamber, I feel a strange disconnect from myself, something I never imagined could happen. It's as if the world around me is shifting, as if I'm both present and distant at once.
Jason’s warm touch brushes my lower back, guiding me forward as the doors to our joined room swing open. The room is twice the size of my own chamber, vast and expansive, its air heavy with the scent of cedarwood and fire.
A fire crackles in the hearth, casting a golden glow on the walls, while the heavy curtains block the harshness of the early morning sun. Jason crosses the room, his movements graceful, and pulls the curtains open, letting the sunlight pour into the space. The sudden brightness stings my eyes and I force them to adjust. In that moment, I take in the room fully.
The walls are draped in rich creams and soft greens, an almost ethereal blend that feels like nature itself is woven into the fabric. A faint, unsettling sensation stirs deep within me as I focus on the dark green sheets upon the bed—my mind flashes to Casper’s evergreen eyes, the image lingering shamefully long.
I glance over to find Jason standing by the window, his eyes distant, lost in thought. The sight of him standing there makes something heavy settle in my stomach. I turn away, unclasping my bracelet, letting it fall on the desk with a delicate clink. I reach for the black diamond crown, its weight both ceremonial and personal, placing it carefully on the pillow beside the desk, its coldness a glaring contrast to the warmth surrounding me.
I look up and find Jason’s eyes on me now, his gaze steady as he begins to undo the buttons of his shirt. The intimacy of the moment wraps itself around me like a tight coil. A sudden flush rises to my cheeks, and I quickly look away, feeling suddenly vulnerable. As I move to unzip my dress, Jason approaches. His hand, warm and sure, finds its way beneath my chin, gently tilting my face upward.
“We don’t have to rush this,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “Not today.”
His words catch me off guard, a slow, welcome surprise flooding through me. It’s unexpected, and I can feel my heartbeat steady inresponse. But when I meet his soft gaze, a small, fleeting smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. It’s the same gentle look he used to give me when we were younger, when his love felt like something pure and untainted. That feeling stirs inside me now, unfamiliar and comforting all at once.
I reach up, taking his hand in mine, and nod.
Without a word, I turn and walk toward the cabinet stocked with liquor, reaching for the amber that rests there. As I pour myself a glass, Jason steps closer, his presence wrapping around me like a slow, controlled tide. His hands settle on my shoulders, a gentle touch that sends a ripple of nervousness through my body. I can feel his warmth behind me, the intimacy of it sending a shiver down my spine.
I turn to hand him his glass, our fingers brushing briefly as I clink our drinks together. The sound rings softly, but the atmosphere feels anything but light.
“I’ve never…”
My words falter, the sentence dangling unfinished. I struggle to grasp the right words, to give shape to the doubts tangled in my mind.
