Page 47 of Tower of Tempest
I swallowed, the distinct feeling rising up that they were keeping something from me, but I didn’t have time to ask because a few females stood in a group nearby, gazes darting to us as they whispered and pointed.
I rolled my eyes and tipped my head toward them. “Oh, look, your admirers have found us.”
Prince Lochlan turned to them, frowning, and his hand rested over the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side.
“What?” I asked. “Go do what you do best. Flirt. Make them giggle and blush. Whisper sweet nothings into their ears. That should improve your mood.”
Once the words were out of my mouth, something dark and ugly twisted my gut at the thought of him flirting with them, touching them—touching anyone.
“Except they’re not looking at me,” the prince murmured. “Poppy, pull your hood up.” His tone grew urgent. “We need to leave.”
“But we haven’t even had a chance to read through these books.” I gestured to the huge pile.
He strode over and grabbed my arm, lifting me to my feet and draping my cloak over my shoulders.
“What has gotten into you?” I asked. “They’re clearly mooning over you.”
“I don’t think they are,” Leoni said, voice full of concern.
“You all are becoming paranoid.” I dug my feet into the floor as the prince pulled me toward the doors.
Driscoll rubbed his belly. “Does this mean we can go get lunch?”
“We’re going back to the inn,” the prince growled in a rough voice I’d never heard. “You’re to stay in your room while we investigate.”
He continued to drag me along until we were outside again, the sun shining down, the chilly breeze whistling around us. Stone stairs led down to a small courtyard filled with benches and grassy spots for elementals to sit and read, talk, eat. It was a beautiful day to explore the city.
I pulled at the prince, and he stopped, turning.
“Let’s just get lunch and calm down,” I said.
“Oh, thank the spirits.” Driscoll pressed his hands together in reverence.
The prince’s gaze shifted around the courtyard, bouncing from elemental to elemental. I tugged my hood farther over my head, feeling self-conscious.
“Maybe Poppy is right,” Leoni said. “Let’s get lunch and talk and?—”
“She’s going back to the inn,” Prince Lochlan interrupted. “To her room. I’ll stay with her, guard her, while you and Driscoll gather any information you can on who might be after her.”
The words sent a chill down my spine. No, no, I wouldn’t be trapped in my room while Gran was out there. “I’m right here,” I said. “I should have a say in this.”
The prince shook his head, jaw locked, fists curled. “No. We cannot take any risks right now. I’m sorry, but this is for the best.”
Leoni and Driscoll stared at him with wide eyes, like they couldn’t believe he was taking a stand. I couldn’t either. But the prince was determined, and no matter how much I protested, he refused to listen. I’d be trapped again. This time with the prince of the water court.
Chapter Twenty
LOCHLAN
Poppy refused to look at me. She sat on the balcony overlooking the sky court while I stayed inside her room like an idiot, trying to figure out how to get her to smile again. The break-in already had me on edge, so when I’d noticed those females whispering, pointing, not at me, but at Poppy, I lost all sense. I was usually good at keeping my calm. Something about this woman made me lose control, and I hated it.
I’d practically dragged her across the city back to the inn, all the while ignoring her protests, ignoring Leoni, Driscoll, ignoring every damn thing until I had her back in this room, away from prying eyes.
Now I stared at her through the glass doors. Her brown hair flowed over the back of the chair, her black wings so delicate, brushing against the white marble of the balcony. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and her shoulders shook.
Fuck.
Was she... crying? Oh no. I couldn’t handle that. Women might’ve cried over me, but I was never around to see it. That was the entire point of keeping my distance. Now I’d voluntarily chosen to lock myself into a room with one, and I couldn’t run from this. I’d have to fix it. I was used to fixingother people’s conflicts—so fixing my own shouldn’t have been so different.
