Page 75 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

LAILAH

T he corridors stretch endlessly as I leave the throne room, each step taking me further from answers and deeper into uncertainty.

My footsteps echo softly, swallowed by everything left unsaid.

I left Casper, hoping—foolishly—that this time, he would offer me the truth.

Instead, I was met with the same silence, the same guarded stares and carefully measured words.

He gave me nothing, and it was worse than hearing a lie.

It felt like a dismissal, a choice to keep me in the dark.

Jason’s attempt to change my father’s mind about traveling with the army had failed.

My father’s decision was resolute, his reasoning hidden behind a ruthless smile.

He hadn’t even summoned me to discuss the plans, leaving me feeling like a pawn in a game I barely understood.

The sense of isolation gnaws at me, feeding a growing dread that everyone around me is hiding something.

Every glance, every whispered word behind closed doors, feels like a thread in a web I’m trapped in, one I can’t unravel.

I ascend the east wing staircase, the diamond shawl I’d discarded now draped back over my shoulders.

Its cold brilliance mocks me with every step.

This symbol of wealth and status, of supposed power, feels like a cruel reminder of the charade Jason and I performed tonight.

My mask had been flawless, my smile calculated, my words perfectly rehearsed.

But the nausea swirling in my stomach tells a different story.

Beneath the surface, I’m crumbling, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it all together.

No one is being honest—not Casper, not Jason, not even my father.

And me? I’m no better. I’ve played my part in this farce, lied through gritted teeth, and smiled when I wanted to scream.

I don’t know what’s worse: the lies they tell me or the lies I’ve told myself.

That I’m in control. That I have a choice.

That any of this will end in something other than tragedy.

The thought of traveling to the Striden lands, of honeymooning under Casper’s gaze, fills me with dread. The idea of him being near me—so close yet so untouchable—feels unbearable. How can I stand next to Jason, my husband, when every glance from Casper feels like it’s unraveling me?

Even in my dreams, Casper haunts me. The taste of him, the feel of his lips on mine, lingers like a brand.

And yet, it’s not just desire that ties me to him—it’s the lies.

The secrets he keeps, the truth he won’t tell me.

They burrow under my skin, festering like a wound that refuses to heal.

Everyone is lying to me, and I’m drowning in the weight of it all.

No matter how hard I try, the truth slips further from my grasp.

The corridors are silent, the faint echo of my steps swallowed by the thick, oppressive air of the castle.

My hands trail along the cold stone walls as I walk, my thoughts a tangled web of frustration and doubt.

As I near the east wing, a figure catches my attention.

Leaning casually against the stone wall is the guard who barged into my chambers the other night with Jason.

His auburn hair glints under the torchlight, his keen blue eyes cutting through the dim corridor.

He doesn’t startle or straighten as I approach.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, watching me with the faintest hint of intrigue, as though waiting to see what I’ll do.

I stop just short of my door, a spark of curiosity flaring in the pit of my stomach.

Without breaking stride, I push the door open and step inside, leaving it ajar.

The room is quiet, the air heavy with the lingering scent of polished wood and faint traces of jasmine.

I hesitate, then glance back toward the hall, my pulse quickening.

“You,” I say, my voice firm but curious. He doesn’t move immediately. “Come in here.”

His intrigue deepens, a subtle shift in his gaze that chills me. After a moment’s pause, he steps forward cautiously. As he crosses the threshold, I step aside, allowing him to enter. The door clicks softly shut behind him, the sound strangely final.

The guard stands just inside the room, his presence commanding despite his silence.

He doesn’t speak or offer an explanation.

Instead, he scans the space, taking in every detail with calculated precision.

There’s no urgency to his movements, only the masterful control of someone who’s seen far more than he lets on.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice tight as I shrug off the diamond shawl.

It falls to the floor in a glittering heap, forgotten as I cross my arms over my chest. He doesn’t answer right away, his focus shifting to the corners of the room, as though searching for something unseen. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a quiet intensity to him.

“Make sure no one can hear us.” he says, his tone calm but authoritative.

There’s no urgency in his voice, no alarm—just a certainty that makes my magic stir instinctively. I press my hands against the cool stone walls, letting the darkness flow from my fingertips. It spreads like ink, curling through the air and sealing the room in impenetrable silence.

Satisfied, the guard steps back, keeping a careful distance. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until I finally break it.

“You’re one of his men,” I say carefully, narrowing my gaze. “Like Callum.”

A faint smile touches his lips, barely there but enough to send a ripple of unease through me.

“I’m nothing like Callum.”

The conviction in his tone unsettles me .

“Then what are you, exactly?” I press, tilting my head. “And why are you here?”

He doesn’t flinch under my scrutiny. Instead, he moves toward the window, his silhouette striking against the pale glow of the moonlight. His body is coiled with an anxious energy, as though he’s waiting for something.

“Why are you here?” I ask again, crossing the room to pour myself a drink. The amber swirls in the glass as I lift it, my gaze never leaving him.

"Callum doesn’t trust Jason where you’re concerned."

I pause mid-sip, the words settling uncomfortably in my chest.

“Callum has far too much time on his hands if he’s worrying about me,” I reply, keeping my tone light as I set the glass down.

“And you?” I ask, taking a step closer. “What’s your name?”

He turns to face me fully, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Malachi.”

I study him briefly, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Why are you watching me, Malachi?”

His silence is maddening, every movement so calculated it feels like a game I don’t know the rules to. He steps toward the center of the room, his gaze briefly darting to the walls before returning to me.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he says, his words carrying a subtle warning.

“And you give a lot of nothing in return,” I snap, taking another step forward. “If Casper or Callum want something from me, they should come face me themselves—not send their shadows to linger in my chambers.”

For the first time, something shifts in Malachi’s expression. It’s fleeting—a glimmer of recognition, a crack in his perfect mask—but it’s enough to make my heart race.

“If Casper wants me to trust him,” I continue, “why send men like you to spy on me?”

Malachi tilts his head slightly, studying me as though weighing whether or not to respond. Finally, he moves toward the door .

“Wait,” I call, my voice softer this time. “Why does it feel like everyone in this castle knows something I don’t?”

He pauses at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

“You sound just like her.”

Just like who? Before I can demand an explanation, Malachi slips out of the room, leaving me alone in suffocating silence. His cryptic remark hangs in the air, cutting deeper than I’d like to admit.

I move toward the bathing chamber, my steps slow as though each one is weighed down by the chaos churning in my mind.

The air in the room feels cooler than usual, carrying the faint, soothing scent of lavender left by the maids.

My fingers trail along the smooth edge of the marble tub, the solid surface grounding me for a fleeting moment.

They hover briefly before I twist the brass tap, watching as steaming water begins to pour, filling the space with its soft, rhythmic gurgling.

I lower myself onto the edge of the tub, staring at the ripples forming in the water, though tranquility feels impossibly far away. Lies surround me, suffocating and inescapable.

Casper—his name alone makes something inside me clench.

Casper, who kissed me like it was the end of the world, only to pull away as though it meant nothing.

Casper, whose every touch and every glance is branded into me, even as he lets Vanessa flaunt herself by his side, drinking from her and making sure I see it all.

The kiss we shared, the passion I thought was real, feels smaller now, overshadowed by the memory of them together. Was it ever real? Does he even care?

Even my father isn’t above this web of deceit.

Clyde, who commands the world like a chessboard, hasn’t summoned me to a single council meeting.

He makes decisions about my life without so much as a word, treating me like a pawn he can move as he pleases.

And Lord Striden—his trusted ally—is no better.

I saw him myself, meeting with guards in secret, his actions screaming betrayal, though I can’t yet piece together why.

Whatever he’s planning, it isn’t for my father’s benefit, and I’m caught in the center of it all, blinded by the lies and unable to break free .

Then there’s Jason. His charm, once polished and pristine, cracked the moment he lied about the other woman. But in a world built on secrets and silence, he might be the only one who’s stopped pretending. He may be the only one trying to show me who he really is.

And it’s not just the living who haunt me.

My gaze drifts to the shadowed corner of my room as I unclip the diamond earrings and place them carefully upon the floor before me.

The ghostly woman who appeared there the other night is seared into my memory.

Her translucent figure, the urgency in her voice, speaking words that refuse to leave me: He can’t have it .

Who was she? What was “it”? And why did her presence feel so familiar, yet so foreign? Why did it spark an excruciating need for answers?

My magic stirs uneasily beneath my skin in response.

I haven’t told anyone about her—not Jason, not Casper, not even Sera.

How could I? Who would believe me? That a ghost had appeared in my room, warning me about some unknown peril?

And yet, the sense of foreboding she left behind clings to me, impossible to ignore.

I clench my jaw, forcing the thoughts away as I stand and step into the tub. The hot water rises around me, pulling a trembling breath from my chest as it soothes my tense muscles. Slowly, I sink deeper, letting the heat envelop me, and finally slide beneath the surface.

The world muffles. The weight of the water presses against my ears, drowning out everything—the lies, the betrayals, the questions.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the steady thrum of my heartbeat.

It’s peaceful. Still. But even here, the chaos in my mind won’t relent.

Jason. Casper. My father. Lord Striden. The ghost. The lies stack higher and higher, closing in on me, threatening to drag me under completely.

My lungs burn, forcing me to break the surface.

I gasp for air, my chest heaving, water streaming down my face as my hair clings in dark, blood-red strands.

The tears I didn’t realize were falling blend with the bathwater, hot and bitter against my skin.

I press my palms to my eyes, trying to block it all out, but it’s useless.

The thoughts, the emotions—they’re too much.

Tomorrow, Jason and I leave for Striden territory.

The thought twists my stomach into knots.

I don’t know what awaits us there—what awaits me —but I know this much: the lies and betrayals will follow.

There’s no escaping them. No escaping the people who hold them.

I can only hope I’m strong enough to face what’s coming, even as the shadows close in around me.