Page 86 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

LAILAH

A soft hand grazes my cheek, the roughness of callused fingertips contrasting with the warmth of the touch.

My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the lingering darkness.

The sky is black as ink. Bright blue eyes pierce through the shadows, locking with mine.

Malachi’s familiar half-smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his calm demeanor unchanging.

I blink a few times, disoriented, trying to piece together where I am and why I feel so heavy. Malachi takes a step back, giving me space to sit up, keeping a steady, watchful eye.

“Wake up, Lailah.” His soft, low voice carries enough weight to pull me fully into the present.

I push myself upright, noticing the fire beside me has dwindled to faint embers.

Malachi moves to sit on the edge of the log, his stoic face somehow softer than usual.

My fingers brush over the blanket draped across me—a different one than I remember using.

Thicker. Warmer. A strange pang of gratitude twists in my chest as I glance at him, confusion lingering in the back of my mind.

The plan. Sending Celaena to the royal tent. It feels like a half-formed dream as I try to shake the cobwebs of sleep from my thoughts .

Malachi hands me a cup, the steam curling into the cold air. I take it cautiously, my gaze darting to his face. His concern is subtle, but it’s there—a shift in his eyes, the set of his jaw. It’s unusual enough to make my own worry stir. Malachi isn’t one to wear his emotions openly.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice groggy.

I take a sip, the warmth of the drink spreading through me. Honey, lemon, and something spicy coat my tongue, the flavors grounding me as I sit straighter. He inhales deeply, his eyes drifting toward the royal tent in the distance.

“You’ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble today, haven’t you?” His voice carries a note of dry humor, but there’s a heaviness behind the words that doesn’t escape me.

Before I can respond, he rises, gesturing for me to follow.

My body moves before my mind catches up, my feet crunching softly against the frosted ground as we head toward the heart of the campsite.

The sudden crash of breaking glass shatters the stillness, the sound coming from Casper’s tent.

Dread sinks its claws into me. Panic flares, quick and hot, and I push past Malachi, my steps hurried as I close the distance.

I throw open the flap to find chaos. Casper stands in the center of the tent, his body rigid, his jaw clenched as he hurls another glass against the ground. Shards scatter across the floor, glittering like broken stars in the dim light.

“What is going on here?” I demand.

His head snaps toward me, his eyes meeting mine, and I falter.

They’re darker than I’ve ever seen them—black, fathomless.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen them like this.

But this? This is worse. Across the room, Callum sits perched on the edge of a desk, his usual flippant demeanor absent.

He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. The scene feels wrong, disjointed.

Casper’s head tilts slightly, his attention shifting past me. I hear it too now—the soft, intimate moans drifting from the royal tent. The sound twists like a knife in the silence.

I turn to Callum, my brows knitting together in suspicion.

He doesn’t defend himself, doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he stands and leaves the tent, his silence more unsettling than anything he could have said.

My heart clenches, a knot of respect and confusion tightening within me.

I had expected him to tell Casper everything, to expose my plan, but he hadn’t. He chose silence.

I look back at Casper, his eyes shifting now, the darkness receding to reveal their familiar green. His anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but something else plays across his expression. Understanding. Hurt. Betrayal.

I tilt my head, my heart aching with a bitter kind of empathy.

I know this feeling too well—the sting of watching someone you care for with someone else.

The possessive edge that creeps in, unbidden, and takes root deep in you.

My jaw tightens as I swallow hard, forcing down the emotions clawing their way to the surface.

Casper’s gaze holds mine, and I see it all—the questions, the pain, the words we’re both too stubborn to voice. I shake my head slowly, but even as I do, the bitter taste lingers in my mouth, and I wonder if either of us will ever be able to let it go.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I finally say.

Casper nods slowly as he absorbs my words. For a moment, I think he won’t respond, that the silence will prevail the way it always does after moments like this.

“You haven’t been honest with me since the moment we met. Why can’t you just let me in?” I press.

The accusation hangs in the air, and he looks at me, searching for the right words. This is our cycle—burning bright when we’re together, only to spiral into distance and distrust. I wait, holding my breath, begging him to try, to fight for this.

“Do you trust him?”

The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate.

The pause is brief, but it’s enough. His eyes darken, devastation flickering across his face before he masks it.

Casper doesn’t give me time to react. He rolls his shoulders back, his posture straightening, and turns away.

He moves to the desk, eyes narrowing as he studies the map spread before him.

His finger traces the worn parchment, charting a path to Striden Territory.

“This is the region that holds the stone we’re looking for,” he says, stepping aside so I can see the map spread between us. His finger traces a jagged mountain range beyond the Astral Borderlands.

“We?” I repeat, my voice laced with skepticism as I glance up at him.

His gaze lifts cautiously from the map, meeting mine. He studies me intently, his eyes darting between my lips and my eyes as if weighing his next words.

“We,” he confirms.

My breath catches, a strange mix of relief and apprehension washing over me. We are working together now.

“We’ll need to discuss this in further detail with Jason and his…

mistress,” Casper continues, his tone all business again.

“They know things about this place we don’t.

Not only that, but we believe his father has been speaking with King Sarris about the stone, likely hoping to claim it for himself. ”

He watches me carefully, gauging my reaction.

“Has Jason told you anything?”

I shake my head and step closer, perching on the edge of the desk. My fingers trail lightly over the edges of the map, absorbing the details without truly focusing on them. Casper’s finger drifts slowly across the map, pausing near a dark cluster of inked peaks.

“The vampire kingdom is to the north,” he murmurs, not looking at me.

“Striden holds the southern routes. And here—” his hand moves to a pale stretch just past the borderlands, “King Sarris waits, hiding in his jeweled castle along the cliffs of Arinstor. He may not crave conquest, Princess. But even mad kings bleed when the mountains whisper.”

My gaze lifts, drawn to his stoic expression.

“Is this what you’ve been hiding from me this whole time?”

He doesn’t look away. His jaw tightens, a tremor of restraint passing through him .

“You should be asking your husband what he’s been hiding. Not me.”

His words are stripped of warmth, yet not cruel—just worn, like a burden that’s been carried too long.

I study him in silence, his features carved from something too guarded, before letting my eyes fall back to the map.

The lands blur. The borders lose shape. I can’t focus, not when everything feels like a game I was never taught how to play.

“I can’t pretend to know what’s going on in Jason’s head,” I murmur, a faint, fleeting laugh slipping out. The sound feels almost foreign in the heavy air. “But what I’m most curious about… is what’s going on in yours.”

The vulnerability I try so hard to hide finally seeps through.

Casper gaze meets mine, the intensity in his green eyes stealing the air from my lungs.

His hand lingers near mine, as if he’s debating whether to close the distance or retreat.

I can see the struggle, the war waging within him, and it takes everything in me not to demand the truth he’s so clearly keeping.

“You shouldn’t be uncertain of me,” he says finally. “I’ve never lied to you, Princess.”

“Lying by omission is still a lie,” I counter.

His lips tighten, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. Good.

He takes a step closer, the scent of leather and something unmistakably him flooding my senses. His voice drops even lower, the words barely above a whisper.

“You can't begin to understand what I have done to keep you safe.”

“Then tell me,” I say, the fire rising in me again. “I am asking for honesty, is that truly too much? Or are you so used to keeping everyone at arm’s length that you don’t even know how to let someone in?”

Casper’s jaw clenches, and I almost think he might lash out. Instead, he takes a steadying breath and reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is so gentle, it makes my heart ache .

“I’m trying to protect you,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing my cheek.

“I don’t need protection from you, Casper,” I say, my voice cracking.

He looks away, his hand falling back to his side. The loss of his touch feels like a physical blow. I laugh bitterly, stepping back.

“So you’ve decided what’s best for me?”

His head snaps back to me, anger flashing in his eyes again.

“You think this is easy for me? Watching you risk yourself for people who wouldn’t hesitate to betray you? For him ?”

The mention of Jason sends a fresh wave of frustration crashing over us, and I see the possessive edge return to his expression.

“Jason has nothing to do with this,” I snap, crossing my arms.