Tower of Tempest: A Steamy Fantasy Romance (Stolen Crowns Book 3)

Chapter 1

Gran’s cough was getting worse.

She sat on the stone floor, huddled by a crackling fire in the hearth. I stood from my small bed that lay next to hers and padded across the floor of the tower. She hacked again, her frail body shaking. I crouched down next to her and grabbed a ladle from the simmering pot that hung over the fire. Smoke curled from the pot, twisting upward, and I tightened my wings to my back, avoiding any embers catching the black feathers. I’d caught fire once when I was little and didn’t have any desire to repeat that experience. I blew until the liquid cooled, then brought it to Gran’s lips. Her normally russet skin looked ashen, sweat dotting her forehead.

“Here,” I said.

She sipped it. “You’re fussing again. Go do something else, girl.”

The words might have been harsh, but they had no bite.

I hesitated. “Gran, let me go... outside. I’ll gather more herbs, and maybe I can even visit a healer’s shop and buy a tincture?—”

“No.” Her sharp eyes snapped to me, dark and assessing as ever, even in her weakened state. A shawl covered her thin shoulders, flowing down over an oversized linen dress that hung to her ankles. We’d always lived humbly, but despite that, Gran managed to look as regal as ever as she straightened her shoulders, head held high. She grabbed her silk bonnet and draped it over her short white hair. “You will not leave this tower,” she rasped, another cough rattling her chest.

“But Gran?—”

She held up her hand, silencing me. “I won’t hear any more of this.” I wanted to argue, but she didn’t need any more stressors, not in her current state.

She pressed her hand against the stone wall and slowly stood, walking toward her bed and sinking onto the end of it. “Sing me a song, hm? Your favorite?”

It was a song I knew well, one Gran had sung since she took me in as a baby and brought me to this tower. We might not have been related by blood, but Gran was my family. The only person in this world that I had, and if she wanted me to sing her a song, then I would.

I sat on a stool next to her bed, readying myself to sing, but Gran’s eyes were already fluttering closed, so I began humming softly instead until her breathing deepened and she was drifting off.

I stood, my blue linen dress hanging to my ankles—mine with laces up the front that made it easier to remove given the wings sprouting from my back.

I needed to while away the time until Gran awakened. A book, perhaps. My gaze drifted to the bookshelves we’d spent months building. They stood on either side of our beds, and the shelves stretched overhead, connecting. We’d even built a little ladder that stood between our beds so we could reach the higher shelves. My gaze drifted to the easel and array of paints arranged on a little table next to the bookshelves. Or maybe I should do some painting, something to cheer Gran when she woke up. Maybe one of her home. Though I’d already done dozens of those.

Gran often brought paint, canvases, books from the closest village, helping me explore new worlds since I couldn’t exactly venture out on my own.

My mouth twisted as I thought about getting out all the paints, the paint brushes, having to clean them afterward. Reading it was.

I ventured over to the ladder and climbed it, letting my fingers run over the spines of the books. There was no organization to any of it. Books were stuffed wherever we could fit them, some sticking out farther than others, some piled on their sides. Yet, somehow, despite the chaos of it all, Gran and I knew the place of every single text here.

I stretched up onto my tiptoes and reached for the one I wanted, then plucked it off the shelf. Dust covered the spine, and I blew it off, watching as it poofed up into the air. Little motes danced in the last sun rays of the day that shone through the single window in our home. Outside, the sky had turned a hazy purple as the sun dipped over the horizon. I meandered to the little bench Gran and I built that sat underneath the window, sinking down and opening the book.

I loved this one. Gran had found it on the side of the road after making a trip to the nearest village. The cover was green with a gold embossing around it. The story was about a woman from the earth court who loved to garden, and every day she’d tend to her flowers, fruits, and vegetables. One day, a man was waiting for her, holding a sickly plant in his arms. He wanted her to save it. It wasn’t easy, but she worked to bring that plant back to life, and as she nurtured it, she nurtured him as well, and they fell in love. In the end, he revealed it was never actually about the plant. He’d just wanted an excuse to get to know her. It was everything I loved in a story: a strong heroine, heart-pounding romance, and a woman who fought for the things that mattered to her.

I set down the book, glancing up at Gran, who let out another harrowing cough. Gran had saved me when I was a baby, was the reason I was even alive today. Maybe it was my turn to rescue her. I couldn’t let her wither away like that flower in the book. I needed to fight for her, to nurture her back to health and take care of her like she’d done for me over the years.

Sometimes that care had been misguided, but she’d done her best. Now it was time to do mine. Mind made up, I strode across the room to grab my cloak from a little hook on the wall, then shoved my feet into boots that had worn far too thin. I’d need new ones soon. Like all my clothes, the cloak had slits in the back so I could slide my wings through. Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I gazed out the window. The view of Valoris stretched out before me, everything so small, a tiny world living beneath me and my tall tower. Puffy white clouds gathered around the outside of the window, and trees dotted the hilly terrain beyond the meadow that surrounded our home. Green mountains rose up in the distance, tall and stark under the waning sun.

I snuck a glance behind me. Gran still slept, coughs wracking her body. She was too weak to use magic to leave like she normally did, and even if she was strong enough to use her magic, she certainly didn’t have the strength to go foraging or to walk to the nearest village. So I’d have to do it for her, even if I wasn’t supposed to.

With darkness pushing away the light, this would be the best time to go unnoticed.

I tiptoed past her sleeping form and knelt down to the ground, slowly removing a loose stone from the floor. Gran thought she was being clever putting it here, but I knew where she hid the magic bean. I’d found the loose stone long ago while sweeping. The broom had snagged over the edges, and when I’d lifted the stone, it revealed a little chest. I reached down and lifted out the chest, which contained gold, a few maps, a necklace, and a small green pod, unassuming but powerful.

Gran had never used it, didn’t have to when she had shadow magic, could bend shadows to her will, make them pluck her from the tower and bring her to the bottom. My wings twitched. I didn’t have the same magic as her, but it didn’t matter... I couldn’t use the magic I did possess. Had never been able to. Though it would make my life much easier if I could flap my wings and leave this tower. Though she hadn’t told me about the bean, I always assumed it was to be used in case of an emergency. Gran had told me about this kind of magic, powerful and not easy to acquire. I pinched the bean, rolling it between my fingers, feeling its power jolt through me.

I stood and straightened my shoulders as I walked toward the window and tossed the bean to the ground far, far below before I could change my mind. It disappeared from sight as it dropped.

With bated breath, I waited, silent, watching, until a beanstalk shot up past my window, thick and ropey, twisted and knotted. I bit the inside of my cheek, doubt freezing me in place. Another cough fought its way from Gran’s lungs, harsh and throttled. I turned back to the window, determined to see this through.

The beanstalk swayed in the wind, and I climbed through the little window and latched onto it, arms wrapping around the massive stalk. It would be a simple trip to get Gran the herbs she needed. She’d understand. She had to—because there was no turning back now.