A faint smile flickers at the corner of Casper’s mouth, but his voice is darker when he speaks.
“Perhaps they chose to write it this way on purpose.”
I run my fingers over the symbols again, trying to make sense of them. They seem familiar, yet the meaning eludes me, like a puzzle just beyond my reach.
“But the way it’s written…” I trail off, uncertainty creeping into my voice. “The structure—it’s not like anything I know.”
Casper steps a little closer. His eyes lock onto mine, a sudden intensity in his gaze.
“That is because you gaze upon it with untrained eyes, Princess,” he says, amused, though something more solemn lingers beneath it. “The language is ancient, born of a time when words were woven with a different cadence. What strikes you as strange is merely the manner in which it was once written.”
“So, I’m translating it wrong?” I ask, turning it upside down in my hands, as if the answer will somehow reveal itself with the shift of the blade.
Before I can adjust it, I’m spun around, the cold edge of the blade now pressing against my throat. My breath catches, freezing me in place. The gravity of his presence and the sharpness of the steel serve as a stark reminder of how quickly this game could turn deadly. His voice is a whisper against the restlessness between us.
“Careful, Princess.”
His other hand rests lightly against my torso, his breath hot against my ear. A surge of adrenaline pulses through me, making my heart race and my breath hitch. Casper leans down, his lips brushing my ear as he speaks, his words a soft, velvety whisper.
“Ashient mienth hatonian ashia.”
The words stir something deep inside me, a tingling sensation spreading through my stomach. His voice dances over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The sensation intensifies as I feel his fingers graze against my breasts beneath my cloak. The touch is electric, sending a rush of heat through me, and I can barely whisper back.
“Obscured by sunlight.”
The words linger, suspended in the air. But then his voice, low and steady, answers.
“No, Princess, obscured by shadows.”
The deep, velvet tone of his voice pulses through me, and the new translation sends a shiver down my spine. He releases me, the blade slipping back into its sheath with precision.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I turn to face him fully. Our bodies are so close now that each breath we take seems to thicken theatmosphere. I can feel his eyes searching me, as if trying to read me in a way that makes everything else feel distant.
Then the sound of bells rings.
The first toll crashes through the woods, sudden and jarring, shattering the fragile moment. My heart skips as my head snaps toward the sound. It echoes through the trees, deep and relentless. Beside me, Casper stiffens, his jaw locking and his shoulders rigid as a low growl rumbles from him, dark and guttural. The second toll follows, louder, its somber note rippling through the air like a cold wind. I can feel the connection slipping away, breaking under the weight of what I know the sound means.
The bells—rung by the tower bell ringer—announce my engagement to the entire kingdom. The truth hits harder than I expect, each toll a stark reminder of the promise I made, one that now feels suffocating.
“I have to go,” I whisper, though my voice trembles as I step back, torn between the warmth of his gaze and the cold pull of duty.
His eyes hold mine, and for a moment I think he might stop me. But he doesn’t. I turn, forcing my legs to carry me away, though every step feels like a betrayal. Part of me begs to stay, to turn back, to close the distance and drown in him, but the toll of the bells is relentless, each note binding me tighter to the life that awaits. Behind me, the woods feel colder, the silence deafening, broken only by the distant chime and the echo of a growl that lingers in the space I leave behind.
I glance over my shoulder, my heart caught between hope and dread. But the space where he stood is empty now, as though he was never there, the forest swallowing him whole. The ache in my chest deepens, but I force myself forward, the bells guiding me back to a future I no longer want.
6
CASPER
Asuffocating sense of dread tightens around me as I approach the king’s study. The towering walls of the castle loom overhead, their intricate carvings seeming to follow my every step. Memories claw at my mind, fragments of a childhood wasted in these halls. Each step pulls me closer to the room I’ve spent years avoiding—a place steeped in ghosts and the stench of ambition.
I pause briefly before the heavy oak doors, forcing the tension from my shoulders before pushing them open. The last thing I need is for Clyde to smell blood in the water.
Inside, the scene is everything I loathe. Clyde sits comfortably, sprawled like a king on his throne, a glass of blood cradled in his hand. That ever-present smirk twists his face, smug and venomous. Opposite him, Lord Striden sits rigid, his polished manners a vacuous facade. Jason stands beside him, the image of false humility, though the way his hand rests on his sword hilt speaks to the arrogance simmering beneath.
I hate them all. Every last one.
“Ah, Ghost,” Clyde says, his voice curling through the room like smoke, cloying and suffocating. “So pleased you could join us.”
