Page 20 of Tower of Tempest
And I had no way to pay for shelter, food, clothes—nothing. I truly would have to beg for someone to show me mercy.
I limped through the silver gates into the village.
It swept upward, filled with narrow roads that zigzagged between domed buildings made of wood and glass. The smell of roasted meat wafted through the air, and my mouth watered.
I’d scavenge for food soon, but for now, I wanted to take it all in. A village. An actual village. I’d read about them, heard about them, but I’d never seen one in person. Sky elementals flew overhead, some landing on rooftops, others landing on the stone streets. The green and gold domedtops of the buildings gleamed under the sinking sun. Beyond the main street of the city, houses filled the rocky terrain of the mountain peak, all with huge open-aired rooms, no windows or doors, easily accessible for those with wings. I thought of my tower with that tiny little window that often scraped against my wings. I lost feathers each time I’d crawled through it.
But this place—it was magnificent.
My feet moved forward, one after the other, my aches and pains forgotten as I marveled at the shops and businesses I passed. A few passersby shot me strange looks, but I didn’t care. I peered inside a shop full of chocolates, little cakes, pastries. My stomach rumbled in response, so loud it could rival thunder. I clutched it, turning my gaze on another shop across the street full of flying gear, thick pants and vests to withstand high altitudes and wind.
The end of the sloping street opened up into a courtyard, a big monument in the middle of Spirit Sky. He stood tall, wings spread out behind him as he held a lightning bolt in his hand. I loved the lore surrounding the Seven Spirits. It had been told that one day Spirit Sky wanted a glorious weapon for himself, so he reached into the sky during a storm and pulled down a lightning bolt. He was rumored to use that bolt to punish anyone who dared defy him.
I moved toward the courtyard, wanting to get a better look at the statue, which was easily twice my height. The spirits must’ve been quite a sight to behold in the Old World. They also must’ve been fearsome. The thought that Spirit Sky could smite me with his bolt should I displease him sent shivers down my spine.
I was happy they were nothing but myth and lore now, something to admire from books and stories. Not reality. I approached the statue, peering at it when an eruption of squeals and chatter stole my attention.
My head snapped in the direction of the sound. A group of females surrounded something. Their wings practically vibrated in excitement as they clamored for whatever was causing this uproar.
I froze. Not whatever. Whoever.
There stood Prince Lochlan. The last rays of the sun highlighted his auburn curls, the streaks of gold in them. From here, I could see the glint in his dark blue eyes, that chiseled jaw, his straight nose.
He was here. In this village. Bloody skies. I tugged at the necklace around my neck.
“It’s Prince Lochlan,” one of the females shouted as she reached for him.
They were treating him like an animal in a cage, something to gawk at. It was so odd.
Lochlan’s gaze roved around the crowd of females, stopping suddenly as he tensed, cocked his head—and looked straight at me. His face went slack. I quickly ducked behind the statue and pressed my back against it.
He’d definitely seen me.
My stomach let out another loud grumble. “Yes, yes, I hear you. I’m working on the food situation.”
Along with the housing situation, the clothes situation, and oh, now the prince situation. I darted a glance around the statue, the crowd growing larger.
Skies above, what was with these women? Were there no eligible men here? Gran had told me of Prince Lochlan’s fame, but I hadn’t realized the extent of it. Leoni and Driscoll emerged from a tavern behind the commotion, both of them laughing and pointing at the frenzy surrounding their prince.
I bit the inside of my cheek, Lochlan’s offer to help find my gran surfacing in my mind. Maybe I’d been hasty in running away. I had no money, no knowledge of this world around me, no magic. Nothing. Lochlan was a prince of the water court, not a criminal or a thief. More than that, I hadn’t felt threatened by him. Not like with those men who’d stolen from me. He, Leoni, and Driscoll seemed nice enough. I didn’t have to trust them to accept their help.
They were going to be my best shot at finding Gran. My heart sank. But I’d run away from them, scorned their attempts to help me. I had nothing to offer them in return for their help. At this point, they might’ve already changed their minds. Maybe they wanted nothing to do with me.
“Ladies, please,” Prince Lochlan said. “I really must be going. I think I saw something, and?—”
But they didn’t let up.
“It’s the playboy prince,” I overhead a woman say as she and herfriend passed me by. “Here. In the sky court. Oh, do you think he’s finally looking for a wife?”
Her friend grabbed her elbow. “A friend’s cousin’s sister’s acquaintance said he was the best kiss of her life.”
They both squealed and ran toward him.
I peeked around the statue again, the women refusing to budge as they touched him, pulled at his shirt, whispered in his ear. He just let them. He tensed under all the attention. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he didn’t like it. An idea hit me.
The prince had tried to rescue me. Maybe now it was my turn to rescue him, and in the process, beg for his forgiveness—and his help.
Mind made up, I straightened and marched from the statue toward the amassing crowd.
