Page 46 of Prince of Storms
“No,” he said, frowning at something only he could see. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can understand your desire for privacy, even if I don’t like it. I’ll deal with my curiosity.”
“I know you have a lot of questions,” Tor said. “And I’m sorry I can’t answer them.”
“It’s okay. I’ll survive,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Good. Now I have to focus on making sure this place survives my sister. Please, stay in your room until one of us comes and gets you, okay? Just for the rest of the day and tonight.”
“For today,” I agreed, not sure how the hell I would pass all that time. “That’s it.”
“That’s it,” he said, walking away. His tone, however, didn’t leave me with a lot of confidence.
What else was he hiding from me? Just how much danger were we truly in?
Chapter Twenty-One
Tor
“Figured I would find you up here pouting,” Ty said, finishing his noisy climb up the stairs to the roof of Fulmen Manerium.
“I’m not pouting,” I said, closing my fist and opening it again, a ball of lightning in my palm surging and ebbing with each movement. “I’m brooding. There is a distinct and qualitative difference.”
“Oh, this should be good. Please, do tell me what the difference is, Your Highness,” Ty drawled.
“Don’t call me that!” I snarled, unleashing the bolt of lightning into the darkening sky and infusing it with a rumble of thunder.
“Jeez, sorry,” Ty muttered, dropping something at his feet. “Somebody is grumpy.”
I sighed and buried my face in both hands, then got to my feet. “Mia started in on that bullshit, too. I don’t fucking need it.”
“Well, you’d better get used to it. You came here looking for a mate, which would result in you ending up on the throne. People will call you that. So get over yourself.”
“Mymate,” I said. “I’m here looking for my mate, not just any mate.”
“Same deal, you’re just being pedantic about words.”
“Someone’s using big words today,” I grumbled, finally turning to see what it was he’d brought to the roof. “What’s that?”
I didn’t recognize the objects in the box, though I could only see a bit of them through the hastily folded flaps. They were orange and disc-shaped. The box must have contained at least fifty, probably more.
“Well, if you’re going to summon a storm and pout, I figure the least you should do is work on your aim,” Ty said, pulling out one of the Frisbee-like things. They clinked when he moved them, indicating they weren’t plastic. Not metal either, I could tell. Some sort of pottery?
“I’m not pouting,” I repeated, but I was intrigued.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Ty said, then hauled back and let the disc fly high into the air over the back of the manor.
I watched it go until it disappeared out of sight. Then I turned to Ty. “Okay? I don’t get it.”
Ty, meanwhile, stared at me like I was stupid. Which I was starting to feel very much like I was.
“You hit it,” he said, removing another. “With lightning. Have you never seen your father do this? Or anyone?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I never … So, you want me to blow it up?”
“For a smart person, you can be awfully dumb sometimes,” Ty said. “Yes. It’s skeet-shooting with a twist.”
“Skeet-shooting. Never heard of it. But okay?”
