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

Chapter 12

The sun was beginning to sink, and after a grueling day of walking, we decided to stop for the night, wandering away from the road and deeper into the hillside. Unlike Apolis with its jagged gray stone, green grass covered the isles of Valoris, so starkly green it almost looked like a painting. Tall rock formations rose from the ground, creating natural arches and barriers to the wind and rain.

We picked the flattest location we could find. Leoni wandered off to hunt while Driscoll worked on getting a fire started. Poppy had volunteered to start the fire, but I’d reminded her that we had some magic to learn.

“Who decided I was going to be in charge of the fire?” Driscoll mumbled from behind me. I ignored him, approaching Poppy.

She sat in the grass, knees drawn up to her chest as she gazed out over the hills, steep and punctuated by sharp, jutting rocks. Her fingers trailed over the green blades, and she stared in wonder at her surroundings.

“Ready to learn some magic?” I asked.

She jumped, and I mentally kicked myself. Right. She wasn’t used to being out in the open like this, not used to traveling with complete strangers. She didn’t need someone sneaking up on her.

“I got a spark!” Driscoll yelled from where he sat under the rock formation. “Oh, bloody earth. Never mind!” he called out.

Poppy stood, straightening her shoulders, the wind blowing her braid wildly behind her, and I remembered the way her braid had come undone after I’d yanked her out that window, how her lovely hair had cascaded down her shoulders, all the way to her waist.

“Prince?” she asked.

I cleared my throat. Blood and water. I needed to get a hold of myself. Women didn’t have this effect on me—I had this effect on them. Yet Poppy seemed no more impressed by me than she would be with a mosquito buzzing around her head.

I wasn’t sure why I even cared about impressing her.

“You’re doing it again, Prince Lochlan,” Poppy said, brushing hair from her eyes. “The staring?”

Damnit. I shoved a hand through my hair. “Just thinking about how you almost kissed me.” I winked at her.

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re already rewriting history? You almost kissed me.”

“Not rewriting history,” I pointed out. “Predicting the future. Spend enough time together, and you’ll be trying to kiss me. I have a sense about these things.”

She flipped her braid over her shoulder. “And I have a strong resolve.”

Oh, I could see that.

Driscoll yelled out again in frustration, and Poppy held up a finger. “Excuse me for a moment.”

She strode to him and crouched down, showing him how to build up the wood around the leaves and debris we’d collected, creating a triangular shape. Then she picked up two thick sticks, rubbing them together to create sparks. I watched in fascination, wondering where in the world she’d learned that. Smoke curled in the air, and soon sparks shot from the wood. Driscoll’s shoulders slumped in relief. She nodded in satisfaction and marched back to me.

“I didn’t know we had a fire-building expert in our midst,” I said, bowing.

She gave me a look, one that was half exasperation, half amusement. Maybe a touch of something else I couldn’t pinpoint.

“Gran taught me how to build a fire. She taught me many things. Everything else she didn’t teach me, I learned from books.”

Now that she mentioned it, I remembered all those books stuffed into the shelves in her tower. “You read a lot,” I said.

She spread out her hands. “There wasn’t exactly much else to do. Do you read, Prince?”

“Spirits, no. Not if I can help it. I do like the pictures, though. Do those count?”

Her lips quirked. So there was a way through that wall of hers. I wanted to keep chipping at it until the whole damn thing collapsed.

“Well, did the pictures tell a story?” she asked. “Did you learn something from them?”

“Sometimes,” I said.

“Then it counts.”

“Even the more...” I twirled my finger in the air. “Erotic pictures? Those tell some of my favorite stories.”

Her eyes danced, her mouth with the slightest upturn to it—barely noticeable, but it was enough for now.

She crossed her arms. “Do you just say the most shocking thing that comes to mind?”

“Why?” I leaned closer. “Do you like it?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, you promised to help me learn magic.”

Ah, yes. I didn’t know why I’d done that. One, I’d never taught anyone to use their magic. I couldn’t even use my own magic with my shadow missing. Two, I was exhausted. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Leoni and Driscoll told me I talked a lot in my sleep. Yelled. Screamed sometimes. Mumbled about a master. About being punished. I never remembered anything useful, waking up tired every morning as if I had hardly slept. Driscoll also liked to remind me how much I was interrupting his own beauty sleep with all the “ruckus” I was causing.

I wanted to go lie down in the soft grass and close my eyes.

Yet the look in Poppy’s eyes was so hopeful I wouldn’t be able to say no, especially not after it was my idea.

“Can you show me yours?”

My shoulders tensed, and she must’ve noticed because she said, “Is that an inappropriate question?”

This was already getting off to a bad start. “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t have my magic. Not without my shadow.”

Understanding lit her gaze, but I didn’t want to dwell on this, for her to start asking more questions about why I didn’t have my shadow, who took it, why they took it. Truthfully I wanted to forget the entire fucking experience, and I certainly didn’t want to burden her with it, not when she was already burdened by so much. It was why I hadn’t yet told her who I suspected took her gran. We’d have that conversation eventually. Just not today.

“Let’s get started,” I said.

I thought about what it had been like to use my magic when I had it, how I accessed it. It was as simple as breathing, until it hadn’t been. I thought of all those days trapped in Sorrengard when I’d desperately tried to reach for it but couldn’t grasp it.

I licked my lips. “When you’re using your magic, it feels like there’s this string inside of you. It’s deep in you.” I pressed my hands against my stomach. “In your gut. You have to reach for that string and pull on it to let your powers loose. You can envision exactly what you want. Like with my water magic, I can decide I want my water to form a sword, and it will appear in my hand.” I flipped open my palm, half expecting to see a water sword appear. A pang shot through me when it didn’t.

She peered at me curiously. She opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she could ask about my magic.

“You have sky magic,” I said. “That means you can control the wind, create wind, control storms, manipulate them.”

She nodded. So she was familiar with that part, at least.

I braced my legs, and she did the same. “Alright. Now close your eyes and reach for that thread inside of you. Imagine that you’re pulling at it, unspooling it, that it’s spreading through your blood, your bones, your very being.”

She did as I said, eyes closing, brows bunched in concentration, those pink lips pursed. Her freckles were pale, dotting her nose and cheeks, and I wondered how many she had. After a minute, her eyes popped open and she let out a frustrated growl. “I can feel it, that string you’re talking about. But when I pull it—” She sighed. “What if I misuse the magic? What if I make the wind blow you away?”

I crossed my arms. “I’m pretty steady on my feet.” She gave me a look, and I raised my hands. “Trust yourself. You can do this.”

She eyed me warily but nodded and, once again, closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the wind began to pick up around us, slow at first. I grinned. She was doing it. It whirled faster and faster, lifting my hair, my cloak. The wind grew stronger, pushing me forward. I dug my feet into the ground, resisting as much as I could.

“Oh, come on,” Driscoll yelled. “We just got the fire going! Damn it all to the spirit world.”

“Poppy?” I asked, and she peeked an eye open as if realizing she was causing this. Strands from her hair came loose from her braid, whipping around her face.

The wind gusted, turning into a cyclone. Rocks and debris flew around us, and her magic pushed me even closer to her. Her eyes widened as the windstorm propelled her to me, until our bodies were pressed flush against each other. Her curvy body nestled right into mine. If the wind weren’t so strong, I could lift my arms and wrap them around her. Knowing her, she’d probably shove me away.

She gazed up at me with wide eyes.

“Well, this is an interesting way to use your magic.” I grinned down at her. “You know, if you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just said so.”

“I don’t know how to stop this,” she said helplessly, the wind roping around us, trapping us.

A protectiveness rose up in me at the panic on her face. “Breathe, Poppy,” I said, voice low. “Just breathe. You pulled that string, and now your magic is responding. All you need to do is let go.”

The panic in her eyes subsided just a smidge, but fear was still etched across her face. “Okay, is there anything you ever used to comfort yourself at times when you’ve been scared? A mantra?” I struggled against the wind’s tight push and pull. “A thought. A funny moment. A song.”

Recognition flashed in her eyes.

“A song?” I asked, and she nodded.

“Sing it to me,” I said.

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“What do you have to lose?” I yelled above the howling wind.

She swallowed, then opened her mouth and started to sing.

“Hush, my dear

Let the fear

Fade and ebb away

Sweet little dear

Know that I’m here

Night and day”

It was beautiful, and I wondered where she’d learned it. I’d never heard it before. She was like a swallow with those black wings. A little bird. A beautiful little bird.

I thought about asking her to sing it again, but as the wind rushed around us in a fury, it was clear my plan hadn’t worked.

“Spirit Sky doesn’t deem me worthy of this,” she said. “Why would he? I’ve given him nothing, never visited a temple, said a prayer to him. My gran scorned the spirits, and now I’m paying the price.”

That was an interesting tidbit we’d have to circle back to at a later time.

“Listen,” I said as the wind continued pushing us together, “there are worse things in the world than magic trapping me with a beautiful woman. In fact, this is actually very enjoyable. You should do it more often.”

She blew out an exasperated breath, and just like that, her magic vanished, the wind dying down around us.

“You’re going to have to show me how to build that fire again!” Driscoll called. “You know, I’m feeling very taken for granted right now.”

Neither Poppy nor I moved, our bodies still so close as she gazed at me.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what? You did all that.”

She stepped back and started walking toward the fire, then turned, her hair curtaining her face, completely free of its braid now. “Thank you for reminding me not everything in this world is scary.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

She just stared at me for a minute before turning her attention back to the fire, loose brown hair tumbling over her shoulders.

Blood and water. I needed sleep. Food. Sex. My shadow. That must be it, I thought, as I watched her patiently explain building a fire to Driscoll for the second time. That was why I was drawn to her. It must have to do with my missing shadow. I’d get it back, and then I’d finally be free of this woman and whatever hold she had over me.