Page 51 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

But just as quickly, my gaze falls, my steps slow, and the doors close behind me. My father embraces me gently, placing one final kiss upon my covered head. I nod, his approval heavy on my shoulders, before I turn and take the first step toward my future.

As I walk down the aisle, each step seems to echo with a finality, a sense of departure from one life to another.

The haunting violin melody in the air makes each step feel like a death sentence—like a crossing into some new, unknowable reality.

My chin is held high, my breath steady, though inside, I am anything but calm.

With only a few steps left, a chill creeps up my spine, and my gaze shifts to the right.

I feel it—eyes on me, steady and unseen.

The kind of gaze that slips beneath the skin, that lingers even when there’s nothing there.

A cruel ache grips me, as if memory itself could reach out and hold me.

I begin to turn, instinctively searching for the ghost that lingers just beyond the light?—

But before I can search for my shadow, Jason steps forward, his hand outstretched to mine. Solid. Present. A tether to the world I’m supposed to belong to. A living warmth, sudden and steady, breaking the pull of what almost was.

I pause, too many unspoken truths catching in my throat before I place my hand in his. Together, we move toward the altar, the waning half-moon above us shining through a glass window in the ceiling.

Jason carefully lifts the cloak from my face, revealing the deathly crown of black diamonds atop my head.

He seems almost mesmerized by them as he unclasps the cloak, allowing it to fall to the floor, reminiscent of a pool of blood.

His hands slip to my gloved fingers, but there is hesitation in his touch.

I can feel it. He’s unsure, reluctant.

As if my hands are something to fear, something that could end him in his sleep.

The thought stirs a frustration deep inside me.

I glance down at our intertwined hands, clenching my jaw as his touch lingers just a moment too long.

But as I look up, meeting his gaze, something soft blooms within me.

A warmth, small but real, fills the cavity in my chest. It’s as if the girl I once was—the one who loved him all those years ago—is waking up.

A crack in my resolve begins to form.

Jason’s eyes search my face, and I catch an inkling of something real there. A small, genuine smile touches his lips—split and healing, but still stained with what he deserved. Without thinking, I mirror it, offering him a delicate smirk. Not forgiveness. Just acknowledgement.

Time seems to stretch as we face each other in this long, drawn-out ceremony.

It feels both endless and fleeting. I thought I had prepared myself for this, for what it would mean, but so much has changed since I was told of this union seven nights prior.

My jaw tightens as the priest’s voice echoes in the temple, bringing my thoughts back to the present.

"In this life, thou shalt choose to honor one another in trust. Honor each other with the deepest sincerity, for it is in the truth that thy bond is forged.”

I glance over at my father, his approval clear in his nod. I straighten my shoulders, awaiting the rest of the vows.

“Honor the blood that runs through thy veins, the souls entwined in divine union, and the hearts that now beat as one. For as ye become joined, your hearts are no longer thine own, but held within the grasp of the other, a covenant unbroken. Only fate, in its eternal wisdom, shall determine the fortune of thy days. The treasures ye shall gather, as ye grow together in honor and lineage, will be as precious as gold, as fleeting as the winds of time.”

The mention of children brings a sudden wave of panic. A deep yearning wells up inside me—but it is not for the man standing before me.

It is for something—someone—else.

“It is through this sacred sacrifice that ye shall live, together in communion or parted, as the fates have decreed."

As the priest finishes the vows, Jason slowly withdraws his hand from mine and places it gently against my cheek. His eyes search my face, and I feel his breath quicken as he leans in.

His kiss is soft, delicate—yet it carries so much more.

The atmosphere crackles with a strange static, like when we first kissed years ago.

When he pulls back, his face is only inches from mine.

Our breath catches in the quiet, and I notice the trembling in his hands, the slight quiver in his body.

I tilt my head, surprised by his reaction.

The kiss has stirred something deep inside him, something he hasn’t let out in years.

He gently rubs his thumb against my cheek, and for a little while, the world feels still.

Then, the sound of clapping and celebration draws my attention to the audience before us.

I look out at the guests, searching the sea of masked faces, and spot Sera crying behind hers, clapping joyfully.

It’s not uncommon for vampires to celebrate a marriage, as it’s a sacred event for them.

But this… this feels like a mockery. Like two mortals marrying outside vampire traditions, outside their place in the world.

The applause is there, but it’s thin, filled with an undercurrent of frustration and rage.

Everyone knows this is just a part of something larger—a game with much higher stakes than either of us can truly understand.

Jason steps down from the altar, holding out his hand to me. I take it, allowing him to lead me to the ballroom, where the dance will begin.

Where I will search for my other half.

If only I truly believed my soul would find it in him.

The haunting yet seductive melody fills the room, as each man and woman finds a partner, beginning the traditional waltz. This dance can stretch for hours or pass in minutes, depending on how quickly the bride and groom choose to dance with those around them, all while seeking their other half.

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 a flicker 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?