Chapter 1
High in her hidden turret, concealed by oak trees on the steep hillside and disguised by its improbability on top of a supposedly normal house, the conversation was not going the direction Tempest had hoped.
“Don’t do it.” She held out her hand. “I’m serious. You’ll regret it.”
Her companion didn’t drop the item he held tightly. For three seconds, he didn’t move at all. Then, he had the audacity to smile as he moved his hand closer to his lips.
“I warned you.” Tempest looked away, shifting her gaze to the window slit of the secret tower. She didn’t want to see him suffer.
But … she was curious by nature, much to her detriment. She turned back in time to see him gasp. He didn’t cough—he’d been a stage performer long enough to know how to suppress a cough—yet his hands flew to his neck and he gasped for air.
“Back in a sec.” Tempest ran down the first of her two secret staircases. It was crude and narrow, with steps more like a slanted ladder than real stairs. If Tempest hadn’t climbed those steps thousands of times, she would have carefully backed out. Instead, with her hands on the smooth larch wood handrails, she was nearly flying as she skidded downward. Once she reached the second and proper secret staircase, lights clicked on every few steps as she passed hidden sensors. Three seconds later she reached the kitchen, where she found sweet coconut-milk rice pudding in the fridge.
Not pausing to make sure she’d closed the fridge door behind her, she lifted the wing of the dragon sconce in the hallway and the hidden door slid open once more. She bounded up the stairs two at a time.
Sanjay’s face was bright red when she reached him, out of breath. He scooped a heaping spoonful of the rice pudding into his mouth and gave a contented sigh. “I thought you didn’t want me to have Ash’s donuts so you could have them all to yourself.”
“Is that what you think of me?” She couldn’t tell if his shrug of a reply was directed at her or was an expression of his relief. Rice and sugar were much better antidotes to spice-induced suffering than water. She also didn’t want to admit to herself the not insubstantial grain of truth in his assumption.
“You weren’t kidding that these donuts weren’t regular pastries. Who puts chili peppers in dessert? These death donuts are all yours.”
Tempest took a bite of one of her grandfather’s heavenly snacks. This batch of vada donuts—one of Grandpa Ash’s unique treats he’d created after retiring—was exquisite. A perfect balance of heat and sweet.
The hidden turret above Tempest’s bedroom was only accessible through the two sets of secret staircases. Many people knew about the existence of the first secret staircase that led to her bedroom, even if they didn’t know how to activate it. The octagonal secret room at the very top of the house was one Tempest didn’t reveal to many people.
From the yard, the turret looked like an ornamental spire on a quirky house built by Secret Staircase Construction as an experiment, as Tempest’s parents tried out their ideas on themselves before bringing their unique brand of renovation to the homes of other people. In reality, the turret hid a cozy spot for Tempest to think while unencumbered by the world below. After moving back into her childhood bedroom last summer after her world had collapsed, it was a welcome retreat. No matter how dire the immediate circumstances, how much heartbreak and destruction surrounded her, and how frustrating it was to have moved back home into her childhood bedroom after losing her own house, the sight of her very own magical secret staircases appearing before her eyes never failed to lift her spirits.
“In spite of your attempt to kill me,” Sanjay said, “I’m glad we have this time to ourselves.” He took a step toward her. A lock from his artfully disheveled black hair swept across his forehead, causing Tempest’s stomach to do a little flip-flop.
Damn. Why, again, had she thought bringing him up here was a good idea?
Sanjay gave her a shy smile. Tempest groaned. Sanjay was many things, but shy was not one of them.
Ever.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “What are you hiding from me?”
He blinked rapidly, but quickly recovered. “You mean this?” He grinned as a bouquet of posies materialized in his previously empty hand, as if from thin air.
Not bad, Tempest admitted to herself. He was dressed not in the tuxedo and bowler hat he wore when he performed on stage as The Hindi Houdini, but in a black short-sleeved T-shirt and chinos. The flowers literally couldn’t have been up his sleeve.
She accepted the bouquet. “Nice cover. You’re avoiding telling me something.” She looked for more signs that he was hiding something but instead found herself getting distracted by his slightly parted lips and large brown eyes. They’d dated once, years ago, when their lives made it impossible to spend much time together. But now that they were both in Northern California within a few miles of each other …
Focus, Tempest.
“You’re not planning on asking me to be your assistant again, are you?” She’d been the one to command far larger audiences than he ever had. Until the night it all fell apart.
“What? Of course not.” He cleared his throat.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“It’s impossible to say no to Lavinia,” he blurted out.
Of all the things she’d imagined he might say, that wasn’t one of them. Tempest’s dad’s company had recently finished renovating a section of Lavinia Kingsley’s house. Secret Staircase Construction didn’t do normal home renovations. They specialized in bringing real-life magic into people’s homes through touches like handcrafted sliding bookcases that opened when you pulled a favorite book from the shelf, hand-carved grotesques with hidden levers leading to secret rooms, and now that Tempest was working for her dad, personalized magical stories accompanied every nook.