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

Chapter 48

Iscrambled to my feet, my gaze bouncing between the shadow and Gran. Gran. She was here, and Loch—I lurched forward, grabbing her hands.

“Send it back.” My voice was hoarse. “Send the shadow back. Loch—he’s?—”

The wrinkles and folds of Gran’s face became more pronounced as she frowned. “Calm down, my girl. What are you going on about?”

“Loch is back there in the smoke.” Rain continued to fall around us, plastering my hair to my head, my clothes to my skin. “You have to save him. Please, Gran.”

“Who in the bloody shadows is Loch?”

“Please” was all I could manage. My voice broke on the word. She eyed me with that assessing, sharp gaze of hers, brown eyes boring into me. She gave a nod, and waved her hand, the shadow flying up and off through the forest.

I fell to my knees, too weak to stand. I had so many questions, but I was too tired to voice any of them. Too on edge, watching the forest from my knees, looking for any sign of the shadow and Loch.

“It’s the first time you’ve seen me in months, and you can’t even say hello?” Gran crossed her thin arms. I coughed again, and she held up a waterskin. “Drink, girl.”

I took it and gulped deep drinks, the water cooling my throat and melting away the ashy taste on my tongue.

In the distance, I spotted a flash of auburn curls. I clambered to my feet, staring as Loch’s big figure came into view, limp and lifeless.

The shadow carried him through the trees, deftly weaving in and out so that branches didn’t hit Loch. Finally, the shadow came close enough I could smell the smoke and ash wafting from him. We’d probably have to burn these clothes at this point, the smell so thoroughly entwined with the fabric. It set him on the ground, and I scrambled to his body.

His head lolled, and I gathered him in my arms. “Here,” I said softly, “drink.” I dribbled water into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered. “C’mon, Prince.”

He opened his mouth a little farther, allowing more water in. I gently laid him on the ground, and his head fell back. I brushed the curls off his forehead, soot covering his cheeks and chin, probably the same as mine.

Gran gestured for the shadow to come to her. It obeyed, then screeched as Gran pressed its feet right up against hers. My mouth dropped open. It was her shadow. She’d ripped her own shadow away and used it to save me.

With that done, she turned her attention on me, her russet skin soaked with sweat, her short white hair damp from the rain. “Did you just call that man ‘Prince’? Oh, Poppy, tell me you didn’t.”

I glared. “Didn’t what, Gran?”

“Didn’t get into league with a prince.” She gestured at Loch. “After everything I told you, everything I warned you about. The royals are not to be trusted. No one is to be trusted. To be cared for. Not unless they earn it.”

For the smallest of seconds, her words ushered in doubt, but then I glanced down at Loch’s face. “No,” I said. “Trust is important, and in some respects, you’re right, it is earned. But love? Friendship? Affection? That’s not earned, Gran.” I stroked the side of Loch’s face. “You made me believe that I had to work for your love. That I had to be worthy of it.”

Gran’s hand floated to her chest. “I did not. That’s not—I took care of you, loved you as my own. I protected you. I never expected anything in return. You thought you had to earn all of that from me?”

I glared at her. “How could I not? I stayed in that tower with you, allowed you to trap me, hoping it would earn me your good graces, a smile, anything.”

“We smiled and laughed all the time,” Gran said, helpless, and I could hear the hurt in her voice, so uncharacteristic of the Gran I knew.

“That’s not the same as feeling loved. All my life you reminded me that I had to be grateful to you, that you saved me from some terrible life and I owed you for it.” I glanced at Loch. “Him? He’s given me everything, no conditions attached, no reminders of what I owe him. He gives them freely. I trust him with my whole heart.” I tilted my head. “Which is more than I can say for you, Your Majesty.”

She flinched. “Ah, so you’ve been busy while I’ve been gone.”

I jabbed a finger at her, rain continuing to pelt us. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Her gaze was stuck on Loch’s chest, on the blue lines stretching from them. Her eyes snapped to me. “Where is his shadow?” she asked slowly.

I shook my head. “It’s a long story. The shadow king took it from him, months ago.”

“Months?” Alarm flashed across her face.

A heavy ball of dread formed in my stomach. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t know,” she said. “It seems I’m not the only one who’s kept things from you.”

“What are you talking about?” I traced one of the blue lines with my finger.

“I’m dying,” a voice said. My gaze tore from Gran and settled on Loch. His eyes blinked open and he swallowed. “That’s what she’s talking about. That’s the secret I’ve been keeping from you.”