Winter Princess: A reverse harem novel (Daughter of Winter Book 1)

by Skye MacKinnon

  “Please,” I whisper hoarsely, desperate for that hole in me to be filled. “Please.”

  Lips press against mine, bringing with them a gentle calmness that envelopes the fire, the ice, the wind, combining them, pressing them together until with a flash they turn into a ball of light, as bright as the sun and just as beautiful.

  Then the ball explodes. I scream as particles of blinding light fly through my body, wild and ferocious, until they reach my heart cave where my magic is waiting for them.

  She pounces and catches the light, swallowing it piece by piece until she is glowing with an ethereal shine. She licks her paws and yawns, stretching as if nothing had happened. Around her, the rainbow clouds (I still want to call them unicorn farts, but that would be immature) illuminate the walls of the cavern, making it homely and safe. I wish I could stay here, curl up like my magic, but I can hear the guys calling me. With a sigh, I leave the cave and dive up into consciousness.

  “Wyn, talk to me,” Crispin says frantically, shaking my shoulders.

  “Stop it,” I murmur, finally opening my eyes. “I’m back now.”

  I’m surrounded by my four guys, all still touching me (Arc’s hand is now on my shoulder), all looking slightly lost. Welcome to the club.

  “What the hell just happened?” Storm booms from my side. I just shake my head. I’m tired.

  “Later?” I ask, and while they all look like they’d rather ask questions, they nod.

  “Let’s just get to that damn gate.”

  We’re driving in silence. I’m very aware of feeling Arc and Crispin pressing against me from both sides, but it’s no longer uncomfortable. No, I feel connected to them in some way, and it’s reassuring to feel their bodies.

  After a few minutes of looking out of the window, admiring the sparse but beautiful scenery, I ask how much longer we still have to drive.

  Frost checks the map on his lap. “We should be almost there…”

  We reach the top of a gentle slope and see the Standing Stones in the distance.

  “Fuck.”

  We’re not the first.

  And they are waiting for us.

  With an army.

  Chapter Nine

  Storm’s face lives up to his name. His forehead scrunched, his eyes cold, his mouth a thin line, his loud breath the warning of a storm to come. He’s angry; no, he’s pissed.

  “We need to get through there,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “Stating the obvious, man,” Frost replies just as grimly.

  We’re standing on a small hill, the car behind us, looking down on the Calanais Standing Stones in the distance. And the army surrounding them.

  Dozens of large stones form the shape of a Celtic cross. From what the guys have told me, an old cairn lies at the centre of the circle. That’s where the Gate is.

  A smoking ruin to one side of the Stones gives the scene an eerie, end-of-the-world kind of feel. Guess that may have once been the visitor centre. Until the demons arrived.

  There must be at least a hundred of them. It’s hard to tell from a distance, but some look more demony than others. The wings kind of give it away. Red wings, black wings, brown wings. They’re not like you imagine angel wings, all fluffy with feathers; no, they’re more like bat wings. This is how I envision demons to look like. For once, the stories got it right. They look evil, even from far away. Some are hunched over, walking on all fours, others are tall and upright, twice as big as your average human. I can even spot a few that have a tail. Guess now I know where humans got their image of the devil from. Some of these would make great devil impersonators, with their claws and wings and misshaped feet.

  Maybe a quarter of the crowd look human, but that doesn’t mean that they are. After my encounter with mages in the hotel and on the ferry (although we still don’t know if that couldn’t have been a Guardian), I no longer trust human-looking people. It’s just me and my Guardians now. And judging from their poses, they’re aching to jump into battle.

  “How did they know we’d be here?” I ask (stupidly, judging from the looks my Guardians give me).

  “This is the only Gate in Scotland that only goes ta the Gods’ Realms,” Arc sighs. “Others may get ya to the Realms of the Demons, or worse. This is the safest one... was the safest one.”

  “The only one in Scotland... Is there one in England?”

  “Aye, doon in Cornwall, and one in Wales. We dinnae have time to travel all that way.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Storm turns around and looks at me with determination. “We fight.”

  Unfortunately, I have no idea about how to use my magic to fight. True, I’ve managed to burn down a building and levelled a street, but those were accidents. What I need is training.

  While Storm, Frost and Crispin are standing together, whispering to each other, making plans, Arc has moved away from our group and is now sitting on a boulder, his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxed. He looks peaceful at this moment. And beautiful.

  “Guys, what is he doing?” I ask the remaining Guardians. Crispin comes over, putting an arm around my shoulders. My magic purrs softly inside me. His touch feels good.

  “He’s trying to connect with Guardians on the other side of the Gate.”

  “He can do that?”

  “Only with Guardians who have the same telepathic ability that he has. There aren’t many of those, though, so it would be rather lucky. But even so, there is a telepath living in your mother’s palace, so he will be able to pass on a message to her majesty.”

  “Will she be able to send help?”

  “To her side of the Gate, yes. But she won’t be able to send her forces to earth. She made that law herself, so even if she wanted, she couldn’t break it.” He notices my confused look. “The laws she enforces are magic. If someone breaks them, it has severe consequences. And as the creator of the laws, it would likely kill her.”

  Oh. Well, guess we’re on our own.

  I look down at the demon army again. They’re not doing much; most are sitting around the stones, waiting. Waiting for us.

  “Can we do it? Can we fight them?”

  Crispin sighs and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m not sure. Just us four Guardians? No. We might be able to deal with half of them, but in the end, they’d overwhelm us. But you? You’re a wild card, we don’t know what you can do.”

  I laugh, slightly hysterically. “Neither do I.”

  “Which is why we’re going to train you,” Storm’s booming voice interrupts. “We need to see what you’re capable of. We’ve seen your raw power, but it now needs to be shaped into a weapon.”

  He pauses, looking down at me with something resembling sympathy.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Princess. We shouldn’t have to force you to explore your magic before you’re ready. But the longer we stay here, the harder it will be to break through their ranks. We’ll train for a day. Hopefully, that will be enough. If not... it’ll have to be enough.”

  He turns and goes back to his brother, who has spread a map of the island out on the bonnet, staring at it in deep thought.

  “Are you ok?” Crispin whispers, his arm still around my shoulders. I lean against him, needing his touch. For a moment, he doesn’t react. Maybe I’ve gone too far. Maybe he meant it just as a friendly gesture. Nothing more than a friend-

  He turns me around until I’m looking into his bright-blue eyes. He lifts his hands and gently touches my cheek. With one finger, he touches the sensitive skin under my eye. I want to fill the space between us, but with his other hand he keeps us apart, pressing against my shoulder. He’s confusing me. His touch is so gentle, so full of meaning, but at the same time, he’s not letting me get close.

  He smiles softly and sighs. “Not here,” he whispers and turns away, leaving me on my own. I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my cheek.

  “Chesca!” Arc shouts suddenly and jumps up from the boulder he sat on.

  A c
ollective groan comes from the guys behind me.

  “No, not her. Isn’t there someone else?” Frost mutters.

  “Who’s Chesca?” I ask, already a little apprehensive. This can’t be good.

  The guys look at each other uncomfortably.

  “She’s the lover of a fellow Guardian,” Frost finally says. “She’s got a cottage not far from here where we can stay and train.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

  Arc cringes. “She’s also a demon.”

  “Wait, aren’t all demons supposed to be evil?”

  “Yeah, usually they are. But Chesca is... well, she’s got her moments...”

  “She’s trying to be good,” Frost explains. “But she isn’t always successful in that.”

  “Why is she trying to... oh, because she’s in love with a Guardian?”

  “Aye. She really must love him to fight her nature. You’ll understand it when you meet her. She’ll cheat you and trick you, but in general, she can be trusted.”

  “Sounds like quite a piece of work,” I muse. “This will be the first time I’ll meet a demon.”

  “After that, you’ll meet them on the battlefield,” Storm says tonelessly. I had him down as someone revelling in the chance to fight some demons, but somehow, he looks... sad. Regretful. Not defeated, though. And that’s the most important thing.

  “Arc, what did the Guardians say?” Storm addresses the Scot.

  “There are aboot ten waiting on the other side of the Gate, including a healer. Beira has been informed. Not much more they can do.”

  “Then it’s up to us. Let’s go, there’s no time to waste.”

  We follow Storm back to the car. Time to meet Chesca.

  The cottage looks like it’s been taken straight from a fairy tale. White-washed walls, a thatched roof, potted flowers under the windows, a wooden bench next to the green door. I decide that one day I want to have a cottage just like it. Maybe a bit bigger so my Guardians can all fit in it.

  It takes me a moment until I notice what I just thought. I included the guys in my plans for the future. That can’t be right. I’ve known them for all of three days. That’s not enough time to fall in love. But here I am, dreaming of a cottage with my men. Could I get them to do the dishes? Yes, that’s me, immediately thinking of the practical side of things.

  Before we can even get out of the car, the green door opens and out steps a... well, I guess she’s a demon. But she’s unlike the demons I saw at the Calanais Stones. This demon is beautiful, in an evil, demony kind of way. Her wings are golden with black tips, and she seems to have pierced the upper edges of them and decorated them with a row of golden rings. A golden tail is wrapped around her hips, but somehow, she pulls it off and makes it look elegant. Nothing but a tiny black dress covers her golden skin; one of those dresses that would make most women look desperate. Not her though.

  She’s taller than your usual human woman; slim and perfectly formed. Her boobs are a little smaller than mine though, I notice with relief. Not sure why I compare her to me. Maybe it’s the way she hungrily eyes my Guardians. That’s right, my Guardians.

  She’s striding towards the car, hips swaying from side to side (including her tail), wings opened to show off her impressive span. I only now notice that my mouth is wide open and I’m openly staring at her. Well, excuse me, this is my first demonic encounter.

  Storm gets out first, walking away from us to meet her. The other guys look on, apparently reluctant to leave the car.

  “Are all female demons like her?” I whisper.

  “She’s one of a kind,” Crispin sighs. “We better follow Storm or he might try to kill her.”

  “Any particular reason for that?” I ask innocently. Not that I’m jealous or anything.

  “Before she fell in love with Aodh, she was... well, she was very interested in Storm. She got a little stalky. He didn’t like it.”

  “But she doesn’t think about him like that anymore, right? She doesn’t fancy him anymore?”

  “She’s a demon, Princess. She fancies everyone.”

  “Oh. Everyone?”

  “Aye, she’d have you for breakfast if she could,” Arc laughs.

  “In a sexy or cannibalistic way?” I ask carefully.

  “Both, if you let her.”

  “I’m not sure I want to meet her.”

  They just laugh and get out of the car. Thanks a lot, bringing me to stay with a questionable demon before making me fight against other demons. Demons seem to be taking over my life. And Guardians.

  “So, this is the sweet princess I’ve heard so much about,” Chesca whines in a sultry but rather annoying voice.

  I lift an eyebrow. “You have?”

  Her innocent smile turns into a snarl. “No, sweetie, I have not. And I don’t care who you are.” Her features smoothen again. “Please come in, I’ve got some lemonade in the fridge.”

  She turns, almost hitting me with her tail, and saunters back into the house, beckoning us to follow her. I look at the guys who are all in various poses of suppressed laughter.

  “Is she always this... changeable?”

  “Oh lassie, that was nothing,” Arc grins. “Wait until she starts arguing with ya. She actually switches between supporting and opposing ya.”

  “Sounds like fun. Shall we?”

  I leave them behind, their snickers following me into the cottage. It’s pretty inside; furniture in white and light browns make it look bright and comfortable. Not like I imagine the home of a demon to look like at all. I wonder what her bedroom looks like. Black? Iron chains hanging from the ceiling?

  Chesca is waiting for us in the kitchen, holding two glasses of lemonade. She offers me one, I stretch out my hand to take it and - she lets it drop to the floor. Cold lemonade drenches my feet. “Ooops, I’m so sorry, dear,” she smiles at me with a fake wink. “But I’m sure with your magic you’ll be able to clean it up?”

  Before I can even say anything, the lemonade lifts off the floor (and my shoes) in a large, yellow bubble and hovers over to the sink. I look behind only to see Frost lazily wave his hands around.

  Chesca hisses. “I wanted her to do it!”

  “Well, I did it instead, so deal with it,” Frost replies calmly, his hands in his pockets.

  The demon’s expression changes from angry to seductive. “Oh, I’d like to deal with you, sweet Guardian. Will you guard me tonight?”

  “Come on, Chesca, you can do better,” he laughs.

  “I can indeed. Why don’t you let me show you? Upstairs.” Her voice is a sultry sexiness that makes my knees wobble, and she didn’t even talk to me. This demon is oozing sensuality.

  “Cut the crap,” Storm growls, “we’re not here for your little games.”

  “Oh, but you are,” she purrs, “you just don’t know it yet.” In a flash, she’s standing next to Storm, her tail wrapped around his waist. She presses her perfectly formed body against his chest and -

  Without thinking, I act. On my command, the jug of lemonade lifts from the kitchen table and flies through the air until it’s hovering straight above Chesca’s head. I smile and give my magic a nudge. The jug topples, releasing the lovely, sticky lemonade.

  The demon shrieks and jumps away from Storm. Mission accomplished. He’s mine, bitch.

  With a hateful glance at me, she storms out of the room.

  I look at my Guardians, who seem a little shocked. I grin and they start to laugh, until we’re all bent over, giggling together about a lemonade-covered demon. Even Storm. I know, it’s a miracle.

  When we’ve recovered from our laughing fits (it takes Frost the longest to be able to keep a straight face), we sit down at the kitchen table.

  “Demons are weakest at noon,” Crispin begins, surprising me. I thought Storm would tell us what to do, as usual. “That means we have about twenty-four hours to train you, Wyn, and get ourselves ready for battle. I propose you train one-on-one with each of us. Three sessions today, on
e early tomorrow morning. That should give you enough time to recover and have your full energy to fight.”

  “Sounds good,” Storm says, surprising me again. Since when does he let other people make the decisions?

  “I agree,” I barge in, not wanting them to make all the decisions. “Who will I train with first? And what are you actually going to teach me? I mean, I know that Storm can play with air and Frost with water—”

  “I like her,” Chesca interrupts, standing in the doorway. “She’s talking to you with just the right mixture of patronisation and sincerity.”

  We all gape at her. How can one person…ehm, demon… be so changeable? Leaning against the doorframe, she arches her back slightly, presenting her full breasts and tiny waist. Such a poser.

  “But I think I could teach her some things, too,” she continues, ignoring our stares. “Things that you Guardians may be too prude to teach. Things that she will need once she enters the Realms. Gods can be such schemers.”

  Storm clears his throat. “That’s very kind of you, Chesca, but for now Wyn has to prepare for battle. We need to get through the Stones as soon as possible, and will worry about court intrigues later.”

  “Spoilsport.” She actually sticks out her tongue at him. I giggle, earning me a hateful glance from her. I’m almost relieved that she’s behaving like a demon again, not like a sultry succubus.

  She turns to leave, but then whispers, almost like an afterthought, “If you want to know what Storm likes in bed, come find me.”

  I choke on my own spittle and Crispin has to slap my back a few times until I can breathe again. How dare she…

  “Aaaanyway,” Frost laughs,” let’s go back to your training. As you so eloquently put it, I play with water. Storm’s talent is air, Crispin’s is healing and Arc specialises in the manipulation of the mind. We know you also have some fire and earth magic, so Crispin will test what you can do with those.”

  “We don’t know if you have any healing powers,” Crispin explains, “and we won’t have time to use them in battle anyway. I have studied all the magic abilities known to us, so I’ll be able to help you more than the other guys.”