Page 29 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)
A young maid rushes past me, a towering arrangement of roses cradled in her arms. She hesitates as our eyes meet, then quickly dips into a low curtsy before scurrying off, her head bowed. Their deference follows me, as always, a constant reminder of the role I must embody.
A prospective bride must endure temptation, her love tested by the charm and allure of others.
Meanwhile, the groom embarks on a hunt, tasked with claiming a prize that symbolizes his right to her hand.
His success depends on his speed, for if he delays too long, he risks another stealing her heart.
It is a dangerous game, one vampires revel in, where every glance and touch becomes a test of loyalty and desire.
No vampire would dare approach me without my father’s blessing— not with his shadow looming over us all.
Tonight, I am untouchable. I am not just a bride, but the daughter of the Vampire King.
This is his spectacle, his carefully crafted display of power and control.
Tonight, I will play my role to perfection, just as everyone else will.
As I make my way through the castle halls, rich scents wrap around me, offering a fleeting distraction from what I’ll soon endure.
Approaching the main staircase, a sudden tingling sensation crawls up my spine, halting me mid-step.
The warmth of the festival seems to dissolve, replaced by an eerie restlessness that settles in the air around me.
My senses heighten and my eyes narrow as I scan the dimly lit corridor for the source of this unease.
Then I see it—a dark figure cloaked in shadow, slipping purposefully toward the back staircase of the east wing. Their movements are too calculated for someone merely attending a celebration.
Suspicion begs me to pause before curiosity propels me forward.
Everyone else is heading toward the ballroom, yet this stranger appears to have other intentions.
Keeping my steps light and silent, I follow, slinking through the corridor.
The figure disappears around a corner, and I quicken my pace, my hand instinctively brushing the hilt of the dagger concealed at my side.
Just as I am about to close the distance, a gentle touch on my shoulder startles me. My instincts take over as I spin around in a blur, drawing my blade and pressing its edge against the throat of the intruder.
Wide, bright blue eyes meet mine. His brows lift high in exaggerated surprise before his face breaks into an unrestrained grin.
“Easy there, little sister. It’s just me,” he teases, his hands shooting up in mock surrender.
“Lucas!” His name bursts from my lips, the sight of his carefree smile both startling and disarming. Relief floods through me, my heart pounding as I try to process the unexpected brightness in his demeanor.
I let out a shaky breath, lowering the dagger and sliding the blade back into its sheath, the metallic click lingering in the air as a stark reminder of how close I had come to striking .
Before I can say anything, Lucas steps closer, his grin widening with a familiar warmth that is both comforting and disarming.
His shorter, neatly cropped hair frames his sun-kissed face, a striking contrast to the wild mane I remember from our younger days.
Though his appearance has changed, his piercing blue eyes remain the same—playful, bright, and filled with mischief.
Without warning, he sweeps me into his arms, spinning me effortlessly as if the years of separation had melted away.
“Put me down!” I laugh, swatting at his shoulder, though the sound of my own laughter surprises me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, breathless. “I thought you were stationed at the western borders.”
“And miss my younger sister’s betrothal?”
He chuckles, eyes scanning me more softly now.
“You look beautiful, Lailah.”
The teasing tone in his voice falters just enough to let something else slip through—pride.
I study him in return. The scrawny boy I once knew is gone, replaced by a man whose frame is broader, whose muscles are honed from years of training in the royal guard.
The shorter hair suits him, highlighting the angle of his jawline and the maturity etched into his features.
Before I can comment, he pulls me into a firm hug.
I exhale, tension slipping away. “I missed you.”
The world feels lighter in his embrace, but the moment is fleeting.
“Me too,” he murmurs, and something in his voice breaks me.
My breath hitches, and before I can stop them, tears begin to gather in my eyes. His arms remain around me, strong and steady. As quickly as the warmth comes, it passes. Lucas steps back, scanning me as if trying to memorize every change time has carved into my face.
Then, with a familiar glint in his eye, he tilts his head at me.
“Where is this mysterious betrothed of yours? I think it’s only fair that I meet him—and decide for myself if he’s worthy. ”
I roll my eyes, knowing full well he’s teasing, though the mock-serious tone almost convinces me otherwise.
“He’s off on a hunt,” I say, smoothing the front of my gown.
Lucas’s brow pulls, faint confusion shadowing his expression.
“A hunt?” he echoes, the word slow and uncertain on his tongue.
I shake my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips.
“It’s a long story.”
My brows draw together, unbidden, before I glance up at him again.
“How long do you plan on staying?” I ask, searching his face for something steady to hold onto.
He exhales, his expression unreadable for a moment.
“Just until the celebrations end.”
My smile fades—not long enough. Lucas tilts his head and steps closer once more, his voice lower now, gentler.
“Hey,” he chides lightly. “It’s not fitting for a bride to look so sad on the night of her engagement ball… or her hunt .”
That draws a laugh from me, short and breathless, but real all the same. And then, as if sensing he’s let me feel too much, he lifts his gloved hand and ruffles my braid like I’m still a child. I smooth it back with a glare.
“Hey! I spent ages on that!”
Sera’s voice rings through the hall, her mock indignation laced with humor.
I turn to see her approaching, her blue satin dress shimmering softly in the dim light.
The delicate fabric hugs her frame, accentuating her fair skin and sparkling eyes.
As she nears, she twirls gracefully, the skirt flaring slightly before she plants her hands on her hips.
“Did you miss me?” she teases, her voice light and playful, though her eyes lingers on Lucas with unmistakable fondness.
Without hesitation, Lucas strides past me and cradles Sera’s face in his hands before kissing her deeply.
“Really? In front of me?” I grumble, rolling my eyes and covering them with mock disgust, though the faint smile tugging at my lips betrays me .
Their affection is sweet and unguarded, a testament to the bond they share, and I can’t help but smile.
But as my hands lower, the warmth fades, replaced by a quiet ache.
Watching them so openly in love feels both beautiful and unbearable—a bittersweet reminder of something I once thought I had, only to realize it was never truly mine.
A faint sound from nearby draws me out of my thoughts. My gaze snaps to the castle doors, where the shadowy figure from earlier slips deftly into the night. An inexplicable pull stirs within me, beckoning me toward them without thought or reason.
It isn’t curiosity that drives me—it’s something deeper, a strange, unspoken connection. My feet move of their own accord, carrying me forward before I’ve even made the decision. The figure disappears, and my heartbeat quickens, the urge to follow them growing stronger.
But before I can take another step, a firm hand wraps around my wrist, halting me in my tracks.
“Bored of me already?” Lucas’s teasing voice snaps me back to reality, his grin widening as Sera loops her arm casually through his.
I blink, startled for a moment, before shaking my head. The tension in my chest eases as I meet his familiar, mischievous gaze.
“You wish,” I retort.
Lucas chuckles, releasing my wrist but staying close. He’s about to say something else, but Sera notices my ruffled braid. Her head tilts, her brows knitting together as though she’s toying with an unsolvable riddle.
She takes a step forward, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Everything has to be perfect this evening.”
For as gentle as she can be, her voice carries the kind of determination that turns simple observations into marching orders.
Lucas snorts.
“Perfect?” he echoes, the word rolling off his tongue with teasing delight. “That’s a serious word for you, Sera.”
Without hesitation, she grabs my arm and pulls me toward a nearby alcove where a polished mirror waits .
“This braid is a disaster,” she announces, glancing over her shoulder at Lucas, one brow arching high. “This was your doing.”
Lucas, lounges lazily against the stone wall, placing a hand over his heart with mock offense.
“Why would you assume such a thing?”
“Because it screams you ,” she replies, sweeping a dramatic hand toward the tangled mess atop my head. “Careless, rushed, and?—”
“Handsome,” Lucas mutters, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
I try to stifle a grin, watching them volley insults like it’s a language only they know. Sera throws her hands into the air with exaggerated exasperation.
“You two are unbearable. Someone has to make sure you both look like you belong here.”
But the faint curve of her mouth, no matter how she fights it, gives her away. Lucas steps closer, his voice lowering as he leans in just enough to make the air between them hum.
“Admit it,” he murmurs, eyes glittering. “You missed this. You missed me .”
For the briefest heartbeat, Sera falters. The blush that rises along her neck is almost imperceptible—almost—but she quickly masks it with a scoff and a brisk shake of her head.
“Not even a little.”