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

Chapter 4

The food Gran and I had stored was running dangerously low. I rifled through the shelves as my stomach grumbled, pushing aside empty jars until I found one with pickled beets. My last one. The dried meat, dried beans, herbs, canned goods, were all gone. Thank the spirits I still had a water source. My gaze traveled up the stairs that Gran and I had built. That project had taken us months. The stairs wound around the side of the tower, up to a second level that sat on tall stilts that stood over the bookshelves. A tub and chamber pot both sat up there with a barrel that caught rainwater for baths. We’d had to saw a hole in the stone and stick the barrel through it, then use a funnel to get the water into the tub. We’d also used the funnel for drinking water, only venturing out to collect water when the rainfall was low. I’d gotten lucky in the last few months with all the rain. But my luck wouldn’t continue, especially as I was running out of food.

I hadn’t heard from Gran, hadn’t seen her since that shadow tore her away from me.

I shoved my feet in my worn boots, then opened the jar and stuffed a pickled beet in my mouth. I was leaving today, and I was going to find Gran and bring her home—and finally get some answers. All my life I knew Gran kept secrets from me, and she claimed it was to keep me safe, but clearly there was a threat out there that knew about my existence now. I wasn’t safe, wouldn’t be safe, until I understood the threat. I hadn’t questioned Gran out of respect, knowing that she was stubborn and wouldn’t give me the answers I wanted anyway. But now I would have to demand them. Once I found her. Once she was safe.

I shoved another beet in my mouth, then grabbed my cloak from a hook and swung it around my shoulders. Just one last thing, and then I’d be ready to go. I walked to that loose stone in the floor and lifted it out, then opened the chest. There lay Gran’s necklace. She’d hidden it along with that magic bean for a reason I didn’t understand. I’d assumed it was precious to her, and she didn’t want to risk it getting lost or stolen. I’d never had a chance to ask her about it since doing so would reveal that I knew of it—and its hidden location. I grabbed the silver chain and looped it around my neck, fingering the small emblem with the coiled snake, head reared like it was ready to strike. I didn’t want to leave it here when it was clearly important to her.

A long rope stretched across the floor. Well, rope was a generous term—it was fashioned from a mixture of bedsheets, wood that I’d trimmed and cut holes through, parts of our beds, which I’d dismantled, and twine that I’d woven together in thick strings.

Right after Gran had been taken, I’d had no idea what to do. In my frenzied state, I’d run back to the tower and climbed up that beanstalk, then jumped into my window, back into my safe haven, watching in horror as the beanstalk—and my only way out of this tower—shrank away.

In the distance, I’d seen the shadow flying with Gran, and I’d screamed for help, but of course no one heard me.

I’d spent days in a fog, upset over what had happened to Gran, upset over how stupid I’d been to go back up into the tower with no way down.

Gran had told me that she had enemies, powerful enemies, who were after her, that the only way to protect us was to hide away in this tower. She’d said if her enemies knew about me, they would come after me too. But a shadow? I couldn’t make sense of it. Gran used shadow magic herself, was from the shadow court. She’d told me all kinds of stories about growing up in Sorrengard, the island where the shadow court was located, the thick jungle and black-sand beaches, the crocodile-infested waters, and the pixies. It had always sounded so magical.

My gaze flicked to a drawing of it that lay on the floor, one I’d done long ago that Gran wanted to save. She’d said it perfectly captured her home. Her eyes had gleamed in pride, and I’d soaked it all up.

She always talked about her home with such tenderness, reverence, but she’d also said that was the past, that Sorrengard no longer resembled the home she once loved.

I frowned, wondering for the millionth time who took her. It had to be someone who controlled shadows, which meant it had to be a shadow elemental. But that didn’t really narrow it down for me. Anyone could have taken her. She could already be dead.

The thought forced my boots forward, and I snatched my rope up. Now that I stared down at it, this whole plan seemed so stupid. But I didn’t know what else to do. If I stayed here much longer, I would die. I had to do something.

No one was coming to rescue me, so I’d have to rescue myself.

It had taken me weeks and weeks to put this together, to make something long enough to stretch down to the ground. I worried at my bottom lip. At least I hoped it was long enough.

I bent over to unentangle the rope, my long braid falling to the ground. My hair was nearly past my waist now, the longest it had ever been.

Gran would tut and fuss, tell me I needed a haircut. My hair certainly hadn’t been my priority.

I blew out a breath as I turned and looked at my little home. Knowing I might not ever see this tower again, my throat grew thick with tears.

I’d miss all my books, my paintings, how we’d worked so hard to make this place a home with our beds, our bench under the window, a rocking chair by the fire, the little table and two chairs for mealtime. The upper level had been the most challenging thing we’d ever built. I glanced out the window. The view of the meadow, the forest, the mountains, the stark green of the sky court.

Most importantly, I’d miss the safe feeling this tower provided. It was a prison of sorts. But it was also a fortress. A place where no harm could come to me. Unlike the world down below, which was full of so many dangerous and dishonest people. Gran’s voice echoed in my head.

“I’ve worked hard to keep us safe. Do not let it be in vain.”

I approached the window, and my gaze dipped down, fog covering the normally beautiful view. It was time. I stared at the rope in my hands, trying to work up the courage to throw it out the window and begin my climb. Then I jolted, realizing I hadn’t tied the rope to anything.

Spirits below. I was losing it. I’d been about to throw this rope—and my only chance at escape—out the window without even securing it.

I hurried toward the hearth and looped the rope around the iron hook that hung from our fireplace. It was the most secure thing I could think of that would hold my weight. Everything else was wood and would likely crack easily under the pressure.

My heart pounded as I took slow, steady steps toward the window, rope gritty and rough in my trembling hands. My head felt like it was as stuck in the clouds as this tower was, a ringing in my ears as I came closer to the window, closer to throwing this rope over the ledge and climbing down—hopefully not falling to my death.

For the thousandth time I wished I knew how to use these wings, how to fly. But Gran had insisted it was safer for me to not know how to use my magic. Truthfully, I thought she was scared I’d learn to use it and fly away from her, and the thought made me sad, that she didn’t trust me enough, didn’t know that I wouldn’t do something like that after everything she’d done for me. It just made me think I hadn’t done enough to earn her trust, that I’d have to work harder to prove to her that she didn’t have to worry about me leaving her.

“My magic is weakening!” a voice echoed from far below, full of panic.

“What in the bloody waters does that mean?” another deeper voice said, this one right outside my window.

A male voice.

Spirits below, someone was close. That meant... someone was climbing to my tower. Breaking into my tower.

I froze, unsure what to do. What if this was the same person who’d come after Gran and now they were here for me?

A weapon. I needed a weapon. If someone was attempting to invade my home, I’d defend it and myself. I ran to get my knife, realizing that I should’ve already had it on me. I needed a weapon. Of course I did.

Suddenly, the enormity of it all sank onto my shoulders. There was so much I felt unprepared for. First, I’d been about to throw the rope out the window without tying it. Then I’d been about to leave without a weapon on me.

The voices spoke again.

“The beanstalk isn’t going to hold much longer!” the person from far below shouted. “It’s too much magic!”

I straightened my shoulders. No time for doubts. Not when I had an intruder to get rid of. I tiptoed toward the window, knife pointed out. I inched closer, then slowly stuck my head out the opening, eyes roaming for the threat. My braid fell over my shoulder, hanging down. The fog cloaked my view of the ground, but when my gaze veered over I spotted a large hand coming straight at me. Probably for my throat.

I stuck out my knife just as the hand tugged on my long braid and yanked me right out the window.