Page 26 of Tower of Tempest
“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 stringyou’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.
