Page 63 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

I smiled, but it was a quiet, bittersweet smile.

I feel like an intruder, watching from the outside, a princess who should never be part of this world.

It’s as though the barrier between who I am and who they are is becoming ever more apparent.

I instinctively pull my cloak tighter around my face, obscuring my identity, not wanting to be seen.

But there’s something liberating in watching them—watching the strength and power they normally keep tightly controlled spill out in the form of laughter and dance.

Something human. The heat of the fire seems to intensify the mood, and for a short while, I almost forgot who I am.

As we pass through the camp, I catch Callum glancing over his shoulder.

He wears that smile again, the one that makes me feel like I’m in the lion’s den, and he’s the one holding the key to my freedom.

A flush creeps up my neck at the thought, and I quickly turn my focus forward.

He leads us towards a wooden building at the far end of the camp, a large structure I immediately recognize as the guards’ tavern.

We enter, and the atmosphere shifts. The air smells of liquor and sweat, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

Callum slides his hood down and saunters to the counter, where he gestures to the barkeep with a fluid, confident motion.

His eyes flick back to me, a silent challenge in his gaze—an invitation to join him, to take part in whatever game he’s playing.

I roll my eyes, but can’t suppress the small smirk that tugs at my lips. Without a second thought, I step toward the counter, but as I do, something—someone—catches my attention. Someone that stirs a strange, unwelcome feeling within me.

Casper.

Leaning against the bar, his dark, brooding eyes are locked on a woman beside him, her hair pulled into a tight braid that cascades over her shoulder with an effortless grace.

A quick pang of something—jealousy—shoots through me, and I quickly push the feeling down.

I don’t need to deal with this right now.

I don’t even know what this feeling means, so I tried to shake it off as I focus on Callum.

The barkeep approaches, a tall man with a well-groomed beard and sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos wrapping around both of his forearms. His eyes are a soft brown, curious but not entirely warm, and I can’t help but notice his playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He leans toward me, relaxed and confident.

“What can I grab you two?” he asks, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

I glance up at him and can’t suppress a soft chuckle as I notice his right arm tattoo—a woman climbing a tree. It’s an odd, almost comical image, and I snort before covering my mouth in embarrassment. The barkeeper tilts his head at me, then leans closer, voice lowering with a hint of charm.

“You’ve got a beautiful smile, darlin’,” he says, winking as he straightens up.

But then—he looks past me. His eyes narrow slightly as his posture shifts. I turn to find the source, only to be met with a cold, piercing gaze.

Casper.

His stare is on the bartender, an edge of possessiveness in his look that makes my stomach twist. I can feel the hostility rising, thick and uncomfortable, and when I turn back to the barkeeper, I can see him adjusting his posture, standing a little taller as if sensing the change in the air.

I step in closer to the bar, trying to regain control of the situation.

“Ale,” I say, keeping my voice even.

The barkeep’s demeanor shifts slightly as, he nods and goes to fetch my drink.As I turn to face Casper, his gaze feels suffocating. His eyes are fixed on me, colder than before, more calculating. I search the tavern for Callum, but he’s gone. Just vanished.

Frustration bubbles up inside me, my patience wearing thin.

I take a step toward Casper, and before I can push past him, a hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back into his embrace.

A gasp escapes my lips involuntarily, and my heart skips a beat as I feel his body press against mine.

His breath is warm against my ear as he speaks, his voice low and threatening.

“What are you doing here, Princess?”

His fingers intertwine with mine for just a moment, but it’s enough. I can feel the power in his touch, the control. I glance up, meeting his gaze, but there’s something darker in his eyes now.

I try to push away, but his grip tightens, keeping me rooted in place. I glance at his hand wrapped around my wrist, then raise my chin to meet his eyes.

“Better watch what you’re doing, little ghost,” I whisper, my voice dripping with a promise of retribution. “Or people will start to notice.”

A deep, velvety laugh rumbles from his lips, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing near my ear as he speaks.

“Oh, we both know I’m not little.”

My breath catches in my throat. I know this dance. I’m used to the power plays, the subtle games. But Casper is different. He’s more than just a shadow, more than just a ghost in the night.

I wrench my wrist from his grip, stepping into him, frustration bubbling to the surface. My chest rises and falls with the heat of it, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I want to kiss him or strangle him.

Intense anger and passion ignite in Casper's eyes as they meet mine.

His gaze darts between my eyes and my lips, which hunger for his touch despite my attempts to control it.

My jaw tightens as I take another step toward the bar, never breaking our gaze.

Grabbing my drink, I sip it slowly, feeling the burn slide down my throat—the burn of both the alcohol and the heat radiating from him.

I set the glass down at the bar with a soft clink, punctuating the silence .

I move past him, but as soon as his heat fades, a pang of longing shoots through me.

I haven’t seen him since my wedding night.

Since everything fell apart. The ache in my chest is painful, persistent.

With a deep breath, I step away, but before I can get far, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the bar and into the night.

I gasp, my heart skipping a beat as we're hauled toward the edge of the campground, heading for the forest.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out cold—frustration and confusion bubbling up.

We turn into a darkened area, and Casper finally lets me down. His voice comes out harsh, almost cruel.

“Don’t make me ask again, Princess. What are you doing here?”

Frustration flares.

“Well, I’m in the middle of some guard camp because I was hauled out by a big, arrogant, brute who thinks he can just toss me around like a lifeless doll.” I throw my hands up in exaggerated motion.

Casper stills, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then, to my surprise, a flicker of concern passes across his face.

“Did I harm you?” he asks, his voice softer, almost uncertain.

I frown, surprised by the question.

“No, Casper. You didn’t harm me.”

Casper steps back, his hands sliding into his pockets. His gaze drops to the ground, as if sorting through his thoughts. His indignation calms slightly, but I can feel the discomfort still lingering in the air.

I lean against a tree, trying to steady myself.

“What are you doing here, Lailah?”

I shake my head, unsure of how to answer—or if I even want to.

“I was in the forest... met a guard. Callum,” I mutter, unsure of how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside me.

Casper inhales sharply. His expression hardens, and he crosses his arms tightly.

“Look, if I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come,” I say, almost to myself. My eyes stay fixed on my boots as I kick at the wet rocks beneath me.

“I...” Casper starts, but his words falter.

The air thickens again. What we’re both afraid to say hangs heavy between us.

“This was a mistake,” I sigh. “Go back to your harlot or whatever she is to you.”

The words escape before I can stop them. They taste bitter, wrong, even as they leave my lips. A war wages inside me—a part of me begging for him to stay, to argue, to fight for this, for us. But I can’t say it. I can’t ask for something I know I shouldn’t want.

I step to move past him, but in an instant, his hand is on my elbow, his grip firm and unrelenting as he pulls me back toward him. His body presses against mine, the heat intoxicating.

"Oh, so you can push me away, and I’m just supposed to take it?" His voice is low, delicate, like it might burn if you get too close.

"I can’t have what I want?" He pauses, his gaze narrowing, his words hanging heavy in the air. "Take who I want, whenever the hell I feel like it?" His voice drops lower "Is that the game we’re playing now?"

His words sting, but I don’t flinch. I can’t.

Instead, I find myself staring into his face, every detail etched into my mind since that night at the tavern.

His dark, smoldering gaze burns with intensity, stirring something deep within me—a longing I can’t ignore.

I shake my head, the emotions swirling too fast, too chaotic to process.

But as I look at him, the jealousy fades, replaced by desire.

His gaze softens, just slightly, as he watches me.

His shoulders drop a fraction, the faintest crack in his armor.

And that’s when it happens—a tear slides down my cheek, unbidden, carrying with it every ounce of control I thought I had.

The walls I’ve spent years building begin to crumble.

He doesn’t speak at first. He just watches me, waiting for me to make sense of this, of us.

But I can’t. My chest tightens, my throat burns, and I am utterly lost.

Without thinking, I step closer to him, my trembling hand finding his chest. Beneath my palm, his heartbeat is steady, grounding me in a moment that feels like it could consume me whole. His warmth envelops me, and for a brief, fleeting second, the world feels right.