Page 26 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

My pulse quickens as I close the book gently and make my way back to the table I’ve chosen for the evening.

I glance at the cover again, my lips curving into a faint, wry smile.

It’s a bedtime story meant to lull children to sleep, not something one would expect to hold any profound truth.

Yet here I am, treating it like a sacred relic, as though its pages might whisper answers to questions that have haunted me for days.

The book feels oddly comforting in my hands, its heft familiar, its spine worn from years of handling.

I remember it from my childhood, though I couldn’t say when or how it came into my life.

The tales inside speak of witches and vampires, of cursed unions and magical forests, all wrapped in the kind of poetic tragedy that only old stories seem to carry.

I shouldn’t take it seriously—not now, not after everything I’ve learned—but there’s something about having it that feels significant, even if only to me.

I return my focus to the path ahead—only to freeze in place.

Casper lingers by my desk, his silhouette nearly indistinguishable from the shadows that crowd the library.

He tilts his head, studying the stack of books as though they might reveal something more than worn pages and ink.

His gloved fingers lightly brush the edge of one, the touch unexpectedly gentle for a man carved from shadow and restraint.

“Are you following me again, vampire?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Casper,” he corrects smoothly.

“Hmm,” I hum, deliberately nonchalant.

His smirk deepens, the flicker of amusement in his gaze sending an unspoken challenge across the divide. He hasn’t changed—still dressed head-to-toe in black, the cloak draped over his shoulders drinking in the faint light, rendering him an extension of the shadows themselves.

The dim light catches in his eyes, vivid against the darkness that cloaks him.

They sweep over me unhurried, carrying an intensity that is both unnerving and thrilling.

My breath hitches as a small, playful smile tugs at his lips, softening the edges of his face and revealing the faint dimple I know all too well.

“How did you get in here?” My question comes out more curious than accusing.

He tilts his head slightly, that maddening smirk never quite leaving his lips.

“Am I not allowed in here, Princess? ”

My brows draw together, the book heavy in my hands, and I glance down at the worn leather spine before lifting my eyes to meet his once more.

“I rarely see vampires in this library,” I say, my tone even but cool. “Books aren’t something your kind tends to covet—not when time no longer holds power over you.”

I shift my weight, step closer, and slip the book behind my back, as if it’s a secret I refuse to share. He follows the movement with interest, a smile spreading across his lips, revealing a sliver of elongated teeth.

“I’ve been here many times, Princess”

My breath stills. My brows pull in tighter as I study him—really study him.

No vampire walks these halls freely unless my father permits it. Only those closest to the throne are granted that kind of liberty. And I would have remembered him .

“I’ve never seen you here before,” I murmur, not accusing—just quietly shaken by the certainty in his voice.

He hums in response, the sound deep and strangely indulgent.

“I haven’t been back in this castle for many years,” he admits, and there’s a touch of something in his admission—regret or restraint, I can’t tell.

My curiosity stirs, rising in my throat. There are questions I want to ask, but before I can form them, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“What are you hiding back there, Princess?”

Heat flares up my neck. My fingers tighten around the worn leather of the spine behind me. I tilt my head, letting a slow smile unfurl.

“None of your concern.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low and smooth. Then his gaze drops to the desk beside us.

I follow the motion too late.

There, spread carelessly across the wood, are the other volumes I’d left behind. pages cluttered with rough sketches of daggers in various stages of forging, notes on tempering silver, and symbols inked by steady hands. A quiet confession laid bare in paper and ink.

His smile deepens, slow and cutting. He knows.

His eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I know he’s choosing his words carefully—or choosing not to speak at all. He lifts his gaze to mine, slow and deliberate, and I lift my chin in response, a challenge in the tilt. My silence is louder than any excuse.

He smiles, then steps forward, smooth as smoke.

“You know, if you wanted to know more about my blade, all you had to do was ask.”

Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it. I bite my lip to stifle the embarrassment threatening to spill out, but I know he sees it. He always does.

“Who says I was thinking about you at all, even if it was your dagger?” I shoot back, stepping closer, tilting my head as I meet his gaze.

“Hmmm.” The sound rumbles from him, low and knowing, sending an unwelcome warmth rising through me.

Casper steps closer, scanning my face with a precision that makes my heart stutter. His proximity is unnerving. I open my mouth to question him, but the words catch in my throat as he moves suddenly.

With a swift motion, he pulls out a dagger— my dagger .

I forgot I left it behind in the forest. The breath leaves my lungs as I freeze, my gaze locked on the blade gleaming in the low light. Casper tilts his head slightly, holding it up in front of me.

A smile spreads across my face as I set the book down, reaching to grab the dagger from his hand.

But Casper, quick as ever, pulls it just out of range.

I try again, lunging forward, but he’s already a step ahead, too swift to be caught.

Frustration flares inside me, but it’s smothered quickly by his playful, knowing grin.

His eyes sweep over me again, sending a spark of heat to my cheeks.

“Are we playing again?” I ask, my voice dropping into a soft, teasing purr.

“Would you like me to play with you? ”

A sly smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I clasp my hands behind my back. Casper holds the dagger loosely, his posture relaxed yet poised. I let the familiar thrum of dark magic course through me, hiding in plain sight. Slowly, I step closer, keeping my gaze locked on his.

When our eyes meet, I let mine drift briefly to his lips before biting my bottom lip, just enough to catch his attention.

His jaw tightens, and I can feel the tension radiating from him.

I close the distance, pressing my chest against his.

His hand holding the dagger lowers slightly, distracted, as I lean in closer, my face just inches from his.

The air between is almost electric, charged with unspoken possibilities.

And then, with a fluid motion, my magic surges. Silent and swift, it slips the dagger from his hand and into mine before he even realizes what’s happened.

The blade is now pressed against his neck.

Casper’s wicked smile widens, unbothered by the razor-sharp edge against his skin.

If anything, it seems to amuse him. He leans into the blade ever so slightly, as if daring me, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips.

His expression carries a reminder of the time he held a knife to my throat, and the memory stirs something between us.

I step back, keeping the dagger in place, feeling the heat of his hungry stare.

“We’re even now, Casper, ” I say softly, satisfied.

Casper’s eyes follow my movements as I lower the dagger, brushing it against my thigh.

I slide it gently into place along the slit of my dress, the blade resting against my bare skin.

His gaze lingers, his expression shifting between curiosity and hesitation, as though he’s weighing the risks of his playful boldness.

A small smile plays on my lips, amused by the subtle deference in his gaze—or perhaps his attempt at caution around the Vampire King’s daughter.

I glance down, adjusting the fabric of my dress to hide the blade from view. As I lift my eyes again, ready to deliver another remark, I find the room empty.

He’s gone.

“Typical,” I laugh, shaking my head, the sound fleeting and brittle in the quiet of the library.

Casper always has a way of vanishing without a word, leaving behind an air that unsettles and clings to me.

The way his gaze lingered just now, his smirk pulling at the edges of something I can’t to name—stays with me, igniting a frustration that simmers within me.

I turn back to the stack of books, trying to ground myself, but the bells suddenly cut through the stillness, low and heavy.

The chime reverberates through the castle, each mournful note dragging me back to reality. The engagement bells. A reminder of what tomorrow brings, of what I cannot escape. My hands hover over the books for a moment before unrelenting frustration boils over.

I rise abruptly, waving a hand through the air. The flames of the candles flicker before extinguishing, their light snuffed out all at once, leaving only the faint glow of embers from the hearth. The cold darkness wraps around me, mirroring the heaviness inside as I stride toward the stairwell.

The steps spiral upward, narrow and uneven. The weak light of the sconces along the walls does little to banish the oppressive gloom of the castle. My thoughts churn with each step, and I can think only of Jason.

The memory of him with her twists inside me.

Those fleeting glances, those unspoken moments were things I dismissed as unimportant.

But now I see it—the way their eyes found each other, drawn by a secret I wasn’t meant to know.

He claims to care for me, to want this union, and yet he let her touch him in ways I thought only I could.

He gave himself to someone else while speaking words of loyalty to me.

I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms as if the pain might ground me. Anger rises, fierce and unrelenting, pulling me under .

How dare he try to stand beside me, to take my hand, after what he’s done?

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 might break. Jason’s betrayal, the memories I can’t erase, the life waiting for me tomorrow—it’s all too much, too heavy.