Page 74 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

CASPER

I grip the railing tightly, the cold metal biting into my palms. The world outside feels starkly indifferent to the storm within me—stars gleaming, the distant hum of the river in the background, and the bracing wind carrying the scent of frost. Just as my breathing begins to steady, I hear the soft shuffle of boots on stone.

Turning slightly, I spot Callum emerging from the shadows on the far side of the balcony.

He moves with an effortless quietness, his presence more felt than heard.

His features are partially illuminated by the faint glow of the smoldering darkleaf he lights.

The scent drifts in the air, pungent and earthy, a reminder of Callum's ever-present confidence and the air of arrogance he wears.

His coat, dark and weather-worn, flutters slightly in the breeze, revealing a blade strapped at his side—a subtle reminder of his constant readiness.

Callum leans casually against the railing, exhaling a plume of smoke as he studies the horizon. His silence is purposeful, and when he finally glances my way, it’s with an air of knowing that sets my teeth on edge.

He takes another drag, his movements unhurried, the faint orange glow of the smoldering darkleaf briefly lighting his angular face. His dark, shadowed eyes linger on me for a moment before he flicks the darkleaf over the railing, the ember vanishing into the darkness below.

“She’s in the east wing staircase. The hidden one,” he says, his voice low and even, carrying just enough weight to command attention without drawing suspicion.

I narrow my eyes at him, but Callum doesn’t wait for a response.

He pushes off the railing with fluid grace, his boots making the faintest sound against the stone as he steps away.

Before he disappears into the shadows again, he leans in slightly, his tone dropping to something almost conspiratorial.

“Don’t keep her waiting,” he murmurs, the softest half-smile ghosting across his lips before he straightens and vanishes into the night.

I watch the space he vacated, my frustration mingling with grudging gratitude. Callum always seemed to know more than he let on, his quiet observance unnerving yet strangely reliable.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself, gripping the railing one last time before turning back toward the doors.

I won’t let myself unravel. Not tonight.

As I stalk through the dimly lit halls of the castle, I force myself to steady my breath, fighting the seething rage clawing at my insides.

Jealousy fuels it—a relentless, burning fire that refuses to die.

She doesn’t truly want Jason. She can’t. Something’s happened—something I don’t understand yet—but I need to. I need to hear it from her, see it in her eyes. Because if it were true... if she really had chosen him… I don’t think I could live with myself.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I round a corner. The shadows stretch long, the distant hum of the feast in the great hall echoing faintly in my ears. I veer toward the hidden staircase, hoping to intercept her, to find the truth buried beneath this facade she’s wearing.

And then I see her.

Bright blue eyes meet mine as she steps out of the east wing staircase, and the world stills. She’s composed, poised, every inch the perfect facade. But I can see the cracks if I look closely enough. I’ve always been able to see them.

She stops short, her gaze leveling me with a calm that feels too practiced.

Every unspoken word inside me builds into something ready to burst, and the image of her with Jason, smiling at him like he’s her entire world, burns in my mind. It’s unbearable.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” I bite.

Her eyes snap to mine, blazing with fury.

“And you do?” she fires back, her tone cold and cutting.

I take a step closer, unable to hold back, my voice dropping to something harsher.

"I saw the way you looked at him tonight," I growl, the words bitter on my tongue, laced with something darker, something I can't swallow down. "The way you let him touch you—like he belongs there, like you were made to fit against him."

I let out an agonizing breath, shaking my head, but the image is burned into me, a wound that won’t close.

"How fucking perfect you looked together. How natural it seemed—his hands on you, your eyes on him."

My jaw clenches, my voice rough and uneven as I take a step closer.

"Do you even realize what that did to me? Watching you, standing beside him like you were always meant to be there, while I?—"

“You don’t get to stand here and act like this is about you ,” she snaps, her voice trembling with anger.

Her words cut deep, but I refuse to back down.

" Jason doesn’t see you—not the real you," I bite out, my voice razor-sharp and bitter, something I can’t swallow down. "He’s using you, Lailah. And you’re too damn smart, too perceptive not to see it."

Her laugh is bitter, echoing in the room like a slap.

"And you see me?" she challenges, her voice rising, trembling with fury. She takes a step closer, her blue eyes burning into mine .

"You," she spits, her tone cutting, "who disappears whenever it suits you? You, who brought her here?" She pauses, her words spiked with venom. "The woman you fed from. The woman you kissed."

Her voice cracks slightly, but she presses on, relentless.

"You stand here and talk about Jason like you have a right to—like you’re above him—but what of her, Casper? What does she mean to you?"

"She means nothing!" The words spill harshly from my throat, but I don’t care. I need her to hear it, to believe it.

Lailah’s eyes flash, fury and something deeper burning beneath the surface.

"Do you know who else said that to me, Casper?" she spits, her voice trembling with anger, rising like a storm ready to break. "Jason. He said the exact same thing when I confronted him about the other woman." Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She means nothing .

The words feel like a blade driven straight through my back. Her eyes lock onto mine, furious and unrelenting.

“Do you know what it feels like to hear that from the men who claim to care about me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be told, over and over, that I’m supposed to believe she —whoever she is—doesn’t matter, when I know damn well she does?”

Her voice cracks on the last word, but her gaze doesn’t falter. It burns into me, filled with hurt and fury, daring me to answer, to justify what I’ve done. But I can’t.

“Do not stand before me and speak of nothingness, Casper,” she says, her voice trembling. “Because I don’t believe it. Not from Jason. Not from you. You don’t get to use that excuse.”

Her words hit harder than I expect, knocking the air from my lungs and leaving me reeling.

“It’s not like that,” I say, my voice quieter now, almost pleading, though I hate how it sounds.

“Then what is it?” she demands, her voice breaking, the anger giving way to something deeper—something that twists in my chest like a blade .

“You stand here, acting like Jason is the problem, but you’re no different,” she continues, her words cutting into me. “At least I know where I stand with him. With you, it’s always a guessing game. Your mask keeps slipping, and I’m so tired of trying to figure out who you really are.”

Her words tear into me and I feel them in my gut like a blow I wasn’t ready for. All I can do is stand there, facing the weight of what she’s just thrown at me.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” I snap, shaking with the force of everything I’ve been holding back.

“You think it doesn’t make me sick to touch her?

Like I want to tear my own fucking skin off because all I can think about is you?

Every second of this damn game—this tightrope I’m walking—feels like it’s ripping me apart. ”

I step closer, as the words pour out.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fucking take you. To claim you. To make you mine so completely that no one would even think about touching you, let alone looking at you. You’re mine , Lailah. You are all I’ve ever fucking wanted.”

“Then tell me!” Lailah’s voice breaks, trembling with desperation.

She steps closer, her eyes locking onto mine, filled with a mixture of anger and something deeper.

“Say it, Casper! Tell me the truth! Tell me why you brought her here, why you keep doing this!”

I freeze, her plea crashing into me, pressing against every part of me that wants to break, wants to give in. Her voice softens, but it trembles, the vulnerability in her words snaking its way through the cracks in my resolve.

“I’m begging you,” she whispers, her throat tight with emotion. “I want to understand, Casper. I want to choose you, but how can I when you keep shutting me out? When you can’t even be honest with me?”

The atmosphere is stifling, thick with everything I’ve left unsaid. My jaw tightens as I look away, my fists clenching at my sides, the truth desperate to escape but held back by everything I can’t risk.

"You're asking for something you don't want the answer to. "

Her expression hardens, but the unshed tears in her eyes reveal the struggle beneath.

“I’m asking for the truth,” she says softly, fighting to stay steady. “Because if you can’t give me that, then what’s left?”

The silence that follows is deafening, every second stretching out into an eternity. My throat tightens as I try to form the words, but they stay lodged deep inside me, buried beneath everything I can’t risk saying. When I finally look at her, the pain in her eyes is enough to undo me.

“Lailah…” I whisper, but my voice breaks.

She exhales like she’s letting go of something she doesn’t want to lose. She steps back, and her expression shifts—from fury to something far worse.

“That’s what I thought,” she says quietly, her voice flat but laced with resignation.

She turns away, leaving me standing there, drowning in the truth I can’t give her.

“No,” I breathe, my voice desperate and unsteady.

Without thinking, I move quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward me with a force that surprises me.

She stumbles slightly but doesn’t resist, her body colliding with mine.

My arms encircle her instinctively, one hand cupping her face as I hold her close, desperate to keep her from slipping away.

Her breath hitches, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and anger, but I don’t let her go. My forehead presses against hers, our faces so close I can feel the warmth of her breath against my lips.

“Don’t,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Her body is tense, rigid against mine, but I can feel the rapid beat of her heart as her chest rises and falls against me. My thumb brushes her cheek, catching the faint dampness there, and I force myself to meet her gaze.

"Lailah," I whisper, my voice unsteady, like something breaking apart inside me. "This is real ."

I tighten my grip, not enough to hold her there, but enough to make her feel it—to make her know I mean every fucking word. My fingers tremble against her skin, my chest tightening with something unbearable.

"You know it is." The words scrape from my throat, not just a plea but the truth, a godsdamn certainty. "Don’t fucking do this. Don’t stand here and act like you don’t feel it, like you don’t fucking know ."

I lean closer, searching her face, looking for something—anything—that tells me she isn’t slipping away, that I haven’t lost her already.

"I can’t—" My voice catches, my jaw locking, my forehead pressing harder against hers, as if I can force her to understand. "I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to this ."

My fingers ghost over her jaw, my breath hot and uneven against her lips.

"You are mine , Lailah. And gods help me, I don’t know how to be anything else but yours ."

Her breath quickens, and for a fleeting moment, I think I’ve reached her. I can see it in the way her pain and longing swirl beneath the surface. Her lips part, and I feel my heart twist, hoping that what we have is real, that maybe we can bridge the distance that’s always been between us.

But then her hands rise, trembling just slightly as she places them over mine.

The touch is soft, hesitant, like even this small connection costs her more than she can afford to give.

Slowly, she pulls my hands away from her face, and the warmth of her skin slips through my fingers like sand, leaving me with nothing but an aching emptiness.

“Stop,” she whispers, her voice breaking as though every word is a struggle. Yet there’s a firmness to it, a resolve that cuts right through me. “Please, just stop.”

Her words land like a blow, and I know. I know this is my fault. My silence, my refusal to be truthful, has built this chasm.

“ Lailah ,” I try, my voice faltering, but it’s too late. She takes a step back, and then another.

Her composure wavers, her lips trembling as if she might speak, but she doesn’t.

Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t turn.

She just exhales, her breath shaky, and she walks away.

Each step she takes feels like a knife twisting deeper.

I don’t move to stop her—I can’t. Not when I know this is my doing.

I stand there, watching her retreat into the distance, until she disappears completely, leaving nothing but the cold void of what I couldn’t say.