Page 100 of Tower of Tempest
I stiffened. “He told you about it?”
“I’ve known since it happened.”
When had the prince had time to tell Driscoll about our night together?
Driscoll shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s been really rough on Prince Lochlan, and he didn’t want to burden you with the truth.”
Rough. Our night together on the balcony was rough. He made me feel things I’d never felt before, and it was hard on him? Unbelievable.
“He’s wanted to tell you for a while, but I think he was scared,” Driscoll continued.
Outwardly, I bristled, but inwardly, my heart splintered. “Well, he needs to just be honest with me.”
Driscoll sighed. “I know, that’s what Leoni and I told him. But you know Prince Lochlan. He hates conflict.”
I wanted to spring from the carriage and run away. Better yet, spread my wings and fly. My instincts had been right, then. Whatever Loch had wanted to talk to me about, it wasn’t good.
Driscoll’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. How much has he told you?”
I reeled back. “He hasn’t told me nearly as much as you, apparently. He told me that we needed to talk, and I knew something was off, that whatever he had to say couldn’t be good.”
Driscoll paled. “Oh fuck. I’ve said too much.”
“No you haven’t. You’ve given me a lot of clarity.”
He cleared his throat and shot an anxious glance at the still-sleeping Loch. “Prince Lochlan will talk to you in his own time. When he’s ready.”
If I knew Loch as well as I thought I did, he would be dreading this conversation. Unless he didn’t have to have it. Unless I made it easy on him.
After all this time, I’d finally found something I could offer him: a way out.
“So you won’t tell him about this little chat between us? About what I told you?” Driscoll asked with a nervous laugh.
“No,” I said. I wouldn’t have a chance to. I’d leave tonight, and the playboy prince would never have to worry about me again.
Chapter Forty-One
LOCHLAN
Something was wrong. I lay on the hard ground, unable to get comfortable as I stared at the starry night sky. The fire flickered, embers popping in the silent night. Everyone else was sleeping, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t drift off. Poppy had been acting odd for the entire day, like she’d sunken into a darkness I couldn’t pull her out of. I’d wanted to talk to her, to tell her the truth about my feelings, the blue lines, but every time I’d tried, the words wouldn’t come.
I didn’t want to place that kind of burden on her, didn’t want to see the heartache in her eyes, heartache I was responsible for. I turned again, a rock lodging into my side. I winced. This was pointless. I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, not with thoughts of Poppy rolling through my mind. If only we could find some time alone, which was proving impossible when stuck in a small carriage with Leoni and Driscoll all day. We’d arrive at the forest tomorrow, and then... and then I had no idea what was going to happen.
The crack of a branch jolted me from my thoughts. I shot up, peering into the darkness, unable to see much beyond the dying fire and the light it cast.
Three sleeping forms lay around the fire. My pulse spiked. Three.Leoni, Driscoll, and the driver. Which meant Poppy was missing—and whatever sound I’d just heard could’ve been a shadow, a threat, something that put her in danger. The thought sent me stumbling to my feet, feeling around for my sword.
Rustling sounded nearby, and I crouched, inching my way through the dark, following the sound. Surely if someone had taken Poppy we’d have heard. Unless she got up in the middle of the night to relieve herself—and someone took her. A door creaked open in the distance, the noise coming from the carriage. I swore, readying myself for a fight as I inched closer.
The carriage came into view, lit by the silver glow of the moon. I flattened myself outside the door, which was ajar. My heart hammered in my chest. Why would someone go into the carriage? There was nothing of value in there—not that I knew of.
A boot thumped on the floor, and I took a deep inhale, then threw open the door and leapt inside, sword pointing straight into Poppy’s delicate throat.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and I slowly lowered my sword and set it on one of the cushioned benches. “What are you doing in here?” I asked, then took her in.
She wore her boots, trousers, and tunic, her hair pleated back into a braid that fell over her shoulder. She twisted her hands in front of her and shifted from foot to foot.
I narrowed my gaze. “Were you... were you running away?”
