Page 42 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

I look to him, searching for any sign that he sees me, any acknowledgment, but his attention is already elsewhere. He’s looking past me now, his focus fixed entirely on my father, whose grin stretches across his face in that way I know too well—enjoying the moment, basking in the attention.

Casper walks toward him without sparing me another glance, and I am left standing there, frozen in place. I feel erased, as though I don’t matter. His indifference stings deeper than I care to admit.

I feel Jason’s body stiffen beside me, his hand tightening around mine as he notices my gaze lingering on a man who isn’t him. With a sharp pull, he draws me closer, his grip firm and possessive as the music changes, pulling us into a slow, seductive waltz.

I glance up at him, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment.

His expression tightens with frustration, but he doesn’t speak—he doesn’t need to.

His body presses into mine as he leans in, his breath warm against my cheek, lingering on my skin, deepening my discomfort.

The touch that should feel familiar now feels suffocating, and I can’t ignore the feeling that he’s only a pale substitute for what I truly want.

As we continue to move in time with the music, Jason shifts, guiding my knee to rest atop his. He leans us forward, the hardness of him pressing into my stomach, and I falter, my breath catching in the sudden intimacy of it all.

His hands slip around my hips, urging me to sway with him, our bodies moving as one.

The dance, designed to seduce and weave connection, makes me feel the heaviness of my own conflicting desires.

I hadn’t meant to captivate him, but as his hands draw me closer, it feels as though I’ve done so without even trying.

The rhythm changes, I can feel Jason’s fingers press against the back of my neck, his other hand wrapping around my knee at his waist, pulling me even closer. The moment becomes stifling, filled with an intimacy I can’t escape.

The music slows as the song ends, leaving us both breathing quickly, tangled its final notes.

I step back from his embrace, trying to center myself, but Jason’s hand remains wrapped around mine.

I can feel eyes on us, the weight of the court’s gaze turning me into something on display—his bride, his claim, his performance.

My eyes instinctively dart toward my father, who is grinning and applauding, his pride shining through. But in the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Casper .

His gaze locks onto mine, darker and heavier than ever. The composure he usually wears like armor is gone, stripped away and replaced by something primal. It holds me there, suspended, as though he’s forgotten where he is, who he’s with.

His jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck flexing, and I can feel the tension radiating from him, palpable and consuming. There’s a pull in his gaze, an unrelenting force that reaches across the room and hooks into me.

Then, without warning, the moment shatters.

Casper’s eyes slide away from mine, his expression slipping back into something I can’t decipher as he shifts his focus to my father.

The change is subtle but deliberate. A cold retreat that leaves me unmoored.

I look away, unable to hold onto the connection any longer, the storm of confusion and frustration swirling inside me.

My fingers twitch, and I pull my hand from Jason’s grasp, my eyes darting between my father and Casper.

“Welcome, Ghost ,” my father says, his voice smooth and commanding, as if he alone controls the currents in the room.

I feel the shift in power, the cold authority in his words. Casper’s focus remains on my father, his expression a mask once more. And yet, his silence leaves me feeling like a stranger, like I’ve been shut out of something. It stings in a way I’m loath to admit.

But then my father’s attention moves, and I follow his gaze.

The woman beside Casper stands tall, exuding confidence, her beauty almost unnatural.

The curve of her neck, the cut of her features, the way she holds herself with a power that seems to hum in the air around her—it all strikes me like a blow, leaving me reeling in its wake .

My father steps forward, his voice low with interest.

“And who is this charming creature?”

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches out and places a kiss upon her knuckles. The woman bows before him, slow, graceful, seductive.

“Vanessa, my King,” she purrs, her voice smooth and sultry.

I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She’s perfect as she stands beside Casper. The sting of jealousy rises in me, thick and bitter, but I push it down. I feel small in comparison, a pang of insecurity growing inside me.

Vanessa and my father share a look, one that lingers far too long, charged with something that leaves me feeling invisible, irrelevant. My stomach twists, and I force myself to look away, trying to steady my breathing.

My father’s gaze shifts back to me, his eyes softening.

“You are beautiful, my sweet,” my father says, his voice warm and steady. I force a smile up at him, the feeling of insecurity still rising.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Jason?” My father’s voice slices through the haze, commanding Jason’s attention.

His eyes shift to me, lingering longer than I anticipate. There’s something in his gaze—something that transcends mere admiration. It’s possessive, almost hungry, and the intensity of it rattles me.

“The most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Jason replies.

The warmth in his voice contrasts the pressure building in me, and though he’s trying to reach me, he leaves me feeling more trapped than desired.

Just as I look at him, a figure comes from behind. A familiar face, one I’ve spent years trying to forget—my stepmother, Agatha.

Time has softened her features, but the cruel gleam in her eyes remains unchanged.

She’s draped in violet, a fabric so rich it turns my stomach.

Lucas stands beside her. His expression is tight, a sorrowful frown pulling at his brow.

My jaw clenches as I take in the sight of her.

I know all too well the deal she struck with my father—the transaction that sold me off like some prized possession .

My father steps to my side, his hand finding mine with a firm, reassuring grip.

“Welcome, Agatha,” he says. “We’ve been expecting you.”

He tightens his hold on my hand, a silent promise that he will always be my rock, my comfort. I force a smile as the enormity of her presence threatens to unravel me.

“Yes, stepmother. We’re so happy you chose to attend my wedding, out of all the things you could have attended during my stay here.”

The bite in my voice is unmistakable. My father’s smile catches the corner of my eye, drawing her gaze to him.

“The coronation being the only other time,” I finish, my words laced with disgust, the bitterness.

Anger flickers across Agatha’s face, but her brittle smile doesn’t falter.

“Lucas,” she says, her tone shifting to warmth, glowing with pride as she turns to him. “You’ve grown into such a fine young man. The Royal Guard must be fortunate to have someone of your caliber—a true leader.”

Her words feel like a slap, harsh and cutting. The knot in my stomach tightens as I grit my teeth, the love and pride she so freely showers on Lucas only amplifying the void where my name should be.

“It’s always so touching, step-mother, how you manage to know everything about Lucas’s life. You must be so proud,” I say. “Of course, I suppose it’s easy when you never bother asking about mine.”

Agatha’s lips press into a thin line, her gaze hardening.

“I didn’t come here to rehash the past or endure your theatrics, Lailah,” she snaps, clearly irritated.

“No, you came to be seen,” I retort, raising my voice. “You came to remind everyone that you sold me off to Clyde like a prized calf and then washed your hands of me.”

Her mask of civility slips entirely as she looks at me, her tone pointed and condescending.

“I’m simply saying how proud I am of Lucas and all he’s accomplished. It’s a shame, really, that some members of this family didn’t follow his example.”

Lucas steps forward this time, frustrated.

“Mother, stop,” he says firmly, his tone carrying the weight of a son who’s heard too much.

She ignores him, her gaze darting back to me.

“Speaking of accomplishments,” she says, her tone shifting into mock politeness, “where’s Sera?

Surely she must be here for an event like this.

” She pauses, tilting her head as though in thought.

“Such an extraordinary young woman. So full of light and potential. Truly remarkable, don’t you think, Lucas? ”

Her words twist the knife in my chest, each one landing with a precise stab. I can feel Lucas bristle beside me, his jaw clenching as his hands curl into fists.

"Funny," I say, my voice cool but pointed, "how you always find a way to admire everyone around me while pretending I don’t exist. But please, go on, Mother. Tell us more about how remarkable Sera is. It’s so refreshing to hear you shower someone with affection—just not your own daughter."

Her lips press tighter, her gaze turning venomous.

“I suppose we can all still celebrate this... achievement,” she says, gesturing vaguely toward me. Her polite facade is gone now, and her words come out stinging, laced with acid.

“It’s truly remarkable,” she continues, her voice softening, but the sweetness feels like a dagger. “That someone has come to... love you, despite all the challenges you’ve faced.”

“Mother,” Lucas interjects again, his voice tight and warning.

“No, Lucas,” she says. “She needs to hear this. She has no idea the sacrifices that were made for her. No gratitude for what was done to keep her in check.”

Her gaze pierces mine, her contempt spilling over.