Jason flinches, his lips parting as though he wants to protest, but no words come. The hesitation is damning, and the silence he creates stretches unbearably. My stomach churns with a mix of anger, disgust, and something more fragile. Celaena stiffens behind him, her pale fingers still gripping his arm. Her lips press into a thin line, her gaze darting to Jason before flicking back to me. She doesn’t deny it. The confirmation, unspoken as it is, only amplifies the sting.
“Do you love her?” I force the words out, hating the vulnerability they carry.
Jason doesn’t look at Celaena. She peers up at him with furrowed brows, her face taut with something like fear—or hope. But he doesn’t answer. The silence is worse than any response. My breath hitches, fury and something terribly close to heartbreak clawing their way up my throat. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the sound trembling with my frustration.
“So much for her meaningnothing,” I bite out, my words dripping with venom.
Without waiting for an answer, I turn on my heel, pushing past Casper. The motion feels like a release, as though moving away from Jason will untangle the knot of betrayal suffocating me. I march past Callum, who tilts his head as I pass, his expression tinged with something knowing. But before I can take another step, Casper’s voice cuts through the air.
“She’ll need to come with us.”
I freeze, his words stopping me in my tracks. Slowly, I turn to look back at him, grappling with the effort of keeping myself together.
“At least until nightfall,” Casper adds, his gaze steady on me. “I’m assuming she’ll be expected back at Lord Striden’s tent soon enough.”
“Brilliant idea,” Callum snorts softly.
Casper ignores him, his focus locked on me. His gaze softens just slightly, as though silently asking for permission or trust. I hesitate, the words caught in my throat as I look at Celaena, then Jason, and finally back at Casper.
“She can stay,” I say finally, my voice heavy with resignation.
The decision feels monumental, a stone dropped into a sea already threatening to drown me.
Casper’s jaw tightens as though he’s shouldering the weight of my choice. Callum leans back against the rock, crossing his arms, his stern posture betrayed by the smile playing on his lips. The fragile truce between us hangs in the air. And yet, even amidst the chaos, Casper’s eyes remain on mine. In their depths, I see something unspoken—a promise, perhaps, though I can’t fully understand it. But now, I need it more than anything else.
As we approach the campsite, the sky above remains heavy with storm clouds, their ominous gray deepened by the relentless downpour that soaks us to the bone. Time feels like it’s slipping through our fingers.
The path twists, and the base of the camp comes into view. I watch as Casper strides toward his tent, the one closest to whereJason and I are supposed to share the night as husband and wife. I doubt any of us will find rest tonight.
Casper’s steps are slow, and for the first time since we left the forest, he turns to look at me. His gaze pierces through the rain, holding an intensity that makes me freeze mid-step. Jason and Celaena stop behind me. My attention shifts to Callum as he strides past, pushing through the flap of Casper’s tent and disappearing inside without so much as a glance in our direction.
Casper’s focus shifts to Jason, his eyes flashing with thinly veiled frustration. His voice cuts through the sound of the rain, low and firm.
“Go to your tent. I want to speak with the Princess alone.”
Jason’s jaw tightens, his defiance simmering just beneath the surface. His posture remains unyielding, a silent challenge to Casper’s authority. But the tension between them is palpable, and Jason knows well enough who holds the reins here. His reluctance is evident as he steps forward, casting me one final glance before turning toward our tent.
Celaena reaches for Jason’s arm, but I don’t linger on the interaction. My attention is pulled away by another voice cutting through the storm.
“Yeah, that isn’t happening,” a man says as he steps in front of the tent, blocking the way with an air of casual authority.
His hair is cut short, his tan skin accentuated by the faint gleam of rain. Markings snake up his muscular arms and disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, hinting at a story written in ink. His piercing gaze locks onto Jason and Celaena, his arms crossed as he silently sizes them up.
Celaena glances at Jason as he takes a step forward.
“Get out of my way, guard,” Jason growls, his voice low and commanding.
The man’s lips curl upward, then part in a cruel, almost mocking laugh. He tilts his head at Jason, his confidence unwavering.
Before the standoff can escalate further, the chestnut-haired woman from earlier steps forward, her presence quiet butformidable. She rests a hand on the man's arm—a calming touch that stills him—and then lifts her gaze to Celaena.
“You can come with me,” she says warmly, her smile genuine as she nods toward her tent, offering guidance rather than a suggestion.
She intrigues me. There’s a quiet strength in her demeanor, an effortless grace that draws people in. She seems so at ease with both Casper and Callum, fitting seamlessly into their world—a world I am still trying to navigate. I wonder who she is and what role she plays in all of this.
Celaena stiffens, her shoulders drawn tight, but after a brief glance from Jason, she finally nods. Jason’s approval is subtle, yet unmistakable. He knows the situation must remain discreet. The rest of the camp cannot suspect that Jason has taken comfort in another woman within our tent. It is a fragile truth—one that protects not only Jason’s lover, but all of us. If my father were to learn of this, he would demand my return, believing it necessary to mend my so-called broken heart.
The man with the short hair steps aside, bowing mockingly as Jason moves past him into the tent. There’s no mistaking his defiance, but he obeys with a lingering smirk. These must be members of Casper’s trusted guard. Callum, Malachi, the man with the shorn hair, and the woman with the long braid. A close-knit group bound by loyalty, their presence is both protective and suffocating.
