Page 11 of Tower of Tempest
“Sorry, I’m not used to this. People not liking me.” He gestured between me and him.
I eyed him warily. “What does that mean?”
“I’m Lochlan Aster.”
My eyes bugged as he confirmed what the others had just said. The eldest prince of the water court, according to Gran’s lessons. Oh, blood and skies. I gripped the jagged piece tighter. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
He gave me an odd look. “Why would I lie about that? It would be a pretty easy thing to disprove.” He gestured around him. “Well, once we get you out of this tower.”
“Why do you want me out of this tower?” I shook my head. “How did you find me? I’ve been trapped here...” I swallowed, not sure how much information I should give him. “For a long time.”
“This might be a ridiculous question, but why don’t you just fly out?” He tipped his head toward my wings.
My face flushed. “I don’t know how,” I said.
“Hello?”Driscoll shouted from below. “What’s going on up there?”
His eyes shifted, and he cleared his throat. “Can we maybe have this conversation down there?” He gestured out the window. “And without you holding a sharp piece of pottery aimed at my throat?” He tilted his head. “It’s a very nice throat, and I’d rather it not be sliced open.”
I jabbed it at him. “You still haven’t answered a single one of my questions.”
“Prince Lochlan!” Leoni shouted.
He held up a finger. “Can I just talk to them for a minute? They will keep shouting. They’re very persistent.”
I gestured to the window with my weapon, and he strode over, leaning out. “I’m alright. Give me a moment to figure things out, and we’ll be down shortly.”
We. Like we were a team. “There’s no ‘we’ until you explain what’s going on.”
He sighed heavily and dropped into the rocking chair by the hearth. “The thing is, when I tell you the truth, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
I cocked a brow. “I’ve been living in this tower my entire life. I know crazy. Try me.”
He shot me a lopsided grin that was far too charming.
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Here it goes: I’ve been dreaming of you. For months now.”
My mouth dropped open. Whatever I’d expected him to say—it wasn’t this. “Dreaming of me?”
He nodded, keeping my gaze, no detection of a lie in his eyes or on his face. “It’s a specific dream. One I’ve had almost every night for three months.”
Three months. I stilled. Gran disappeared three months ago. Surely this couldn’t be connected.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re in this tower, in the window, screaming for someone to help you. You’re yelling about a magic bean, about losing it, about being trapped.” He frowned. “‘Help me! Someone help me! They’ve taken her, and the magic bean is down there. I can’t leave. I’m trapped. Someone has to help me!’”
His words siphoned all the air from the room. Those had been my exact words. Right after Gran had been taken.
“How—” I stumbled back against the wall, voice faltering. The piece of vase fell from my hand and crashed to the floor. “How did you know that? How could you? Are you using some kind of dark magic?”
His eyes flashed with a sorrow I didn’t understand. “No, it’s nothing like that. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I dream of you, of that moment. All I know is that it led me here, to you. I think I was meant to come find you, to help you out of this tower.”
At that, I crossed my arms. “I don’t need your help. You’re too late. I already found a way out. By myself.” I gestured to the rope that was still attached to that iron hook in the hearth, coiled on the floor.
“Well, I did come all this way.” He tilted his head. “Might as well let me at least play hero a little bit.”
Play. Like this was some game. My anger flared. “This is my life. Not some joke.”
He flinched. “Look, I don’t know if that rope is going to hold both of us.”
