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

by Skye MacKinnon

  Right now, I could use one of those.

  Where are my Guardians when I need them?

  “Leave us,” my mother commands, and the physician bows, shooting us a curious glance as he steps out of the room. Good riddance.

  Beira approaches me hesitantly. Gone is the commanding queen she was just a second ago. Now, she looks unsure of herself. Maybe I don’t want that hug after all. I can’t deal with the confusion of my mother suddenly not being icy.

  But then I’m in her arms and I hug her back. She slowly starts patting me on the back, like she’s not quite sure what she’s doing. This is the first time I’ve ever been touched by her.

  Her skin is cool and soft as our cheeks touch, mine wet with tears I didn’t notice running down my face. She continues the back-patting and I’m tempted to tell her to stop, but at the same time, I don’t want this hug to end. Who would have thought, my mother embracing me. Weird. I think I’m beginning to understand that there’s more to Queen Beira than what I’ve seen for the past twenty-two years.

  When we step away from each other, she grasps my hand and blows on it, like a mother would do for a toddler. Except that when I lift my hand to look at it, it’s fully healed. A bit of dried blood is the only sign that I ever punched that stupid wall. Wow. Guess it’s not just Crispin who can heal. Although she did it in a very different way; I didn’t see any magic at all.

  She shrugs as she sees my amazement. “I can teach you how to do that.”

  “Really?”

  She gives me a small smile. “Your Guardians told me of the abilities you’ve exhibited so far. We’ll have to see how closely they match what I can do, but I’m sure you’ll be able to learn some of my skills.”

  “What can you do?” I blurt out. She laughs, a beautiful sound of icicles chiming in a frosty morning breeze.

  “Too much to talk about right now. But before we can get to that, we need to fix your magic.”

  Oh, right. My mood falls to depression level again.

  “I assume from your little wall outburst that Healer Theodore didn’t have a solution?”

  I nod. “He couldn’t feel my magic. But I know it’s still there! It’s just buried, locked away. It’s there but I can’t reach it.”

  She frowns and puts a cool hand on my arm. “Mind if I take a look?”

  I wonder why she didn’t do that in the first place, but nod again.

  “This might feel a little... overwhelming,” she warns me, and a second later I know exactly what she means by that.

  It’s like I’m suddenly floating in space, my body gone, nothing but stars around me. It’s beautiful and frightening. There’s no sound, no wind, no movement at all. Nothing but darkness and stars. And me, little me, floating in a vacuum with no idea of how I got here. I try to move, but nothing happens. Guess you can’t move without a body.

  “Wyn, can you hear me?” a loud voice suddenly booms from all around me.

  “Ehm, yes?” I ask into the nothingness around me. And notice that I can’t hear my voice. It’s only in my head.

  “You need to stay put for just a few more minutes while I try and figure out your magic,” my mother’s majestic voice resonates in my head. I shudder (without a body, which is weird). Here, she really sounds like a Goddess. I turn around, looking at the stars. It’s beautiful in a cold way. No nebulas, black holes, falling stars, just small, golden balls dotted around the black emptiness.

  I huff and wait. As beautiful as this is, there isn’t much to focus on. And I miss my body.

  I begin to hum a random song, but stop when I can’t hear myself sing. Not that that’s a bad thing, I’ve been told that my singing voice is rather... well, let’s just say it’s enough for some drunk karaoke.

  With a flash of light, I’m suddenly back in the present. Good riddance, creepy stars.

  My mother’s hands are hugging my cheeks and her piercing blue eyes are staring into mine. They’re full of worry and seriousness. Oh no, please don’t give me bad news. I much prefer happy news. Like, I’ll snap my fingers and your magic will be back. That kind of stuff. Not the end-of-the-world scenario that’s been playing at the back of my mind ever since I woke up from my locked-in state.

  “Wyn, there’s a problem with your magic,” my mother begins.

  I step back, away from her cold hands. “Tell me something I don’t know!” I huff, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

  She doesn’t react, which makes me worry even more. I draw my fingers through my hair, finding an occupation for them to stop them from fidgetting.

  “When you killed all those demons, their life energy was set free. Imagine it as a mixture of your magic and your soul, your essence. Yours is bright as starlight, but theirs is dark and tainted. There was so much energy in the air that it would have been harmful to everybody standing around those demons. I think you may have instinctively absorbed some of it to protect your Guardians. I don’t know how, but it’s in you, a dark magic surrounding your own. And your magic was clever, she saw that the darkness would hurt you, so she barricaded herself away, imprisoning both herself and the demon energy.” She sighs. “I can set her free, but that would also mean releasing the dark magic. It could kill you.”

  Wow. Did she just tell me that I could die? I shake my head. “There must be another way to get my magic back. You’re the Mother of Gods, for fuck’s sake! You must be able to do something!”

  The door opens and a moment later, Storm’s deep voice caresses my ear. “I agree.” His strong arms surround me and I lean back against my Guardian’s chest, drinking in his warmth. I need him. He can fix things, I’m sure of it. He’s Storm, he’s strong.

  My mother straightens her shoulders. The Queen has returned, pushing away the concerned mother I had just witnessed for the first time.

  “Watch your tone, Guardian,” she warns him. “Wyn, I will ask my Council to do some research. For now, your magic will have to stay locked. Do not try to access it, no matter what.”

  With that, she leaves the room. Thanks a lot, mummy.

  Storm gently grabs my shoulders and turns me until I’m looking into his eyes. There’s darkness in them, and thunder, and something soft. My Storm. I stretch my toes and kiss him. It takes him a second to respond, then his mouth opens, letting me in, while his arms press me against his body, gripping me tight. I hug him back while our tongues dance in desperation. I’m drowning in him, and it feels good.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Thank the Gods that my room in this palace has a large bed. Otherwise, I’d have to sleep alone, and not cuddled in the midst of my Guardians. Crispin is on one side of me, his hand hugging my chest. He’s very close to my breasts, and I’m sure if he was aware of that, he’d move. I still don’t know why he pulls away whenever we get close, but for now, I need to accept that he isn’t as touchy-feely as the other three. I look at Storm’s sleeping figure. Okay, scratch the feely bit. Touchy, yes. Earlier, our kiss culminated in a little touching. Until the healer returned and gave us a stern glance. Ooops. Apparently, it looks bad when the Queen’s daughter is kissing a Guardian while he has his hands under her shirt. I must learn more about court etiquette.

  Frost is snoring softly and I’m tempted to give him a slight kick. Not just to stop the snoring. I also imagine it to be quite fun. Arc is - he’s looking at me. I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. I sigh and slip out from under the duvet. Sleep isn’t coming. Arc grins and follows me out of the room, onto the balcony. Stars are shining brightly over the dark landscape. They look like the same ones we have on earth. Yes, I think I can make out the Big Dipper. Or something that looks like it. Maybe it’s called something else here. The Big Icicle. The Big Snowflake. Big Yeti, perhaps? And yes, I get silly when I’m tired.

  I feel for my magic to conjure some warm air to dispel the night’s chill - and remember that there is no magic. I sigh and suppress a shiver. Maybe the balcony was a bad idea.

  “Cannae sleep, Princess?” Arc whispe
rs into my ear and hugs me from behind.

  “Give the man a medal,” I joke while pushing an elbow into his abs. He growls and presses me closer against his body.

  “Are ye being violent? Ye know that’s not what a wee Princess is supposed ta do?”

  I laugh and he joins me. His chest is rubbing against me with each of his laughing breaths. I savour the touch and wish for more.

  “How are ye settling in?” he asks softly when we both fall quiet again.

  “I’m not sure. Everything is so... alien. It’s like I’ve been thrown into a fairy tale, except that instead of an evil stepmother I suddenly have one that seems more caring than I expected, and four rather than one Prince Charming.”

  “I can be more than just charming,” he whispers seductively and I have to fight hard against the impulse to turn around and kiss him. When I don’t, he lowers his head and begins to nuzzle on my neck.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” I say, and he stops. A second later, I’m in his arms, looking up into his beautiful, moss-green eyes.

  “Yer mother had a good reason to summon ye. Trust me, this is where ye belong. This is where yer needed.”

  “I’m not much use without my magic.” I grimace, causing him to frown. One of his hands disappears from my back only to softly stroke my cheek.

  “Yer magic doesn’t define ya. It’s only a wee thing that makes ye even more stunning than ye are already. Ye are strong, Wyn, dinnae forget that. Hell, yer the strongest person I ken.”

  I don’t believe him. I’m just a human girl without my magic. Just a human who has been transported into a world where everybody else has superpowers. I’m lost here, and he knows it. They all know it.

  “Look, ye—” He suddenly stops and takes a step forward towards the railings, taking me with him. “Did ye see that?”

  “I was looking at you, you silly Scottish Guardian. What did you see?”

  He puts a finger on my lips. I want to lick it. Not now, Wyn. Priorities.

  “There was someone in the bushes...”

  I turn around and stare into the darkness. The only light comes from the few palace windows which are still lit. There’s no moon that - shit. There’s no moon. How is there no moon in this place. There needs to be a moon. For the tides and all that. Moons are essential. Werewolves, tides, an excuse to go crazy a few nights each month.

  “There!” And then I finally see it. A dark figure creeping through the gardens; a shadow in the night. He’s heading to the Royal quarters.

  “Wake the others,” Storm whispers while staring into the darkness. I shake off my no-moon thoughts and tiptoe back into the bedroom.

  Three tired men are looking at me. Waking is unnecessary, so I just motion for them to follow me back out onto the balcony. Storm is about to say something, but I put a finger on my lips and he shuts up. Interesting, I should do that more often.

  The guys are surprisingly quiet for being so large. Before we can join Arc outside, he’s running through the room. “Quick, they just broke the window to the Queen’s quarters!”

  Mother. Surely, that’s impossible? She must have security in place; someone shouldn’t just be able to walk through the gardens and enter the palace unseen.

  A strange fear grips my heart. She could be in danger. She’s immortal, but does that mean she can’t be killed?

  I race behind Arc, the rest of the guys following us. The hallways are empty; the only light comes from flickering orbs floating below the ceiling. Someone behind me claps his hands and they immediately become bright, illuminating the corridors we’re running through.

  A few heads peek out of open doors, but nobody tries to stop us.

  Another corner, and we can finally see the large silver door that leads to my mother’s apartments in the distance. Almost there. Two guards are standing in front of it, oblivious to what might happen inside.

  Storm conjures a gust of wind that slams into the door, throwing it open just in time for us running into the room. It’s a small, dark chamber; the vestibule where visitors wait when they want a private audience with the Queen. Ignoring the spluttering guards, we traverse the room in a few large strides and come to a halt in front of a beautifully ornate golden door. Storm grips the doorknob and tries to open it, but it doesn’t budge.

  “Quickly, put your hands on the wings!” he commands and pushes me forwards. There are two wings carved into the door, spread out, ready to fly. They’re so lifelike that I’d love to pause and study them, but there’s no time. I lay my hands on them, feeling the rough, cold surface beneath my flushed skin. Nothing happens.

  “Shit, she’s not added her to the list yet,” Frost curses. He turns around to the guards running towards us. “Any of you got emergency privileges?” A collective shake of heads causes Storm to kick the door and Arc to let out a stream of colourful curses.

  “Stand back!” Storm shouts and we all crowd against the walls as he creates a swirling fist of wild air. Throwing his arms out in front of him, he makes the fist slam against the door. It doesn’t budge. Again and again he uses his air like a battering ram, but the door stays shut.

  “Let me through!” a deep voice shouts and the gathering crowd gives way to a tall man in the same dark blue uniform Ada’s triplet Guardians were wearing yesterday. With the added extra of a long sword hanging from his hips.

  “Gwain, thank the Gods!” Storm explains. “Someone entered her Majesty’s quarters and we need to get in.”

  “How?” Gwain is not just tall, he looks strong. Intimidating. In command. His peppered hair is cut short, framing a weathered face. A thin scar splits his left eyebrow in two. Here’s someone who’s seen a lot. Battle, most likely. He exudes a sense of authority that makes me want to do whatever he asks because I know he’s right. Which is dangerous. He’s powerful, despite his age. Or maybe, because of it.

  “They sneaked through the gardens and broke a window leading to the Royal bedroom, Sir,” Storm reports. Wow, this is the first time I’ve heard him call anyone Sir. This Gwain guy must be important.

  “Stand aside,” Gwain commands and without hesitation, everybody does. He puts his hands on the door, just like I did earlier. Except that for him, the door opens with a click. Sword drawn, he enters the dark room, and we follow. Storm and Arc have pushed past me to lead the way, and I’m flanked by my other two Guardians.

  It’s too quiet. Something isn’t right.

  “Your Majesty?” Gwain calls out, but nobody replies.

  “Lights,” Arc whispers softly and a large icy orb above us springs into life, flooding the room with cold, bright light. My mother is lying on her bed. There’s a knife in her heart.

  I scream.

  “Search the rooms! Luke, gather men to comb the gardens,” Gwain commands. “Ado, get Theodore here right now.”

  While a flurry of activity happens behind us, I approach the bed where my mother lies, motionless.

  “Beira?” I whisper, while Crispin runs to her other side, waving his hands over her in a complicated pattern.

  “She’s still alive, but barely,” he says tonelessly, leading to gasps all around us. “I’m trying to stabilise her, but we need to remove that knife before it can do any further harm.”

  “Shall I do it?” I ask, desperate to do something.

  “No, I need Theodore. It’s a Summer knife, it needs to be handled by a trained healer.”

  “So we just sit here and wait?” I shout, fear and anger cursing through me. I point at the guards swarming the room. “How could you let this happen? Where were you all? How could someone just come in here and stab Bei... my mother?”

  Someone wraps around me from behind. Salty, fresh air fills my nostrils. Frost. I shake off his arms. I don’t want his touch right now. All I want is my mother to wake up. Yes, she’s been absent for most of my life, but she’s my mother, and she’s so close to telling me all I want to know. All I need to know. I need her. She’s the queen, and my mother. She’s supposed to be a God,
how can she lie here like that, dying?

  “Where is Theodore?” Crispin shouts. “She’s fading!”

  “How is this knife able to kill her?” I ask, my voice breaking.

  “It’s a Summer knife,” Crispin grinds through gritted teeth. “Forged by the King of Summer himself. Only he can harm our Queen. It’s spreading his filthy essence through her body, destroying her magic, her spirit. But if we can’t pull it out, we need to siphon its energy back into the knife first. Otherwise it’ll just continue its destruction.”

  Damn. Who the hell is that summer king?

  “Sir, Theodore isn’t in the palace, he was called to one of the villages,” a guard reports, panting heavily.

  The healer isn’t coming. We need to do something. My mother’s face is ashen, with a slightly blue tint to her cheeks. Her hair is no longer smooth and silky, but brittle and weak. She’s withering in front of our eyes and there’s nothing I can do. If only my magic was here. My magic. Beira said it was holed up because of the demon energy. So if I managed to get rid of the demon energy, my magic would be free. Ready to save my mother.

  A commotion outside the door makes us all turn around. A man in a blue uniform enters, followed by two guards holding a man dressed in black. He’s only half conscious, his head lolling from side to side.

  “Sir, we caught him not far from the Gate to the Summer Realm,” the blue-clad man reports.

  Gwain is by the man’s side in two long strides and grab’s the assassin’s chin, lifting his head up until they’re staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Any last words?” Gwain grumbles, his body poised to strike. He’s going to break the guy’s neck, I’m sure of it. There’s no need for an interrogation, the knife says it all.

  The knife.

  “Stop!” I shout and everybody turns to me, startled. I hope I have this right. Otherwise this might end badly.

  “What are ye doing?” Arc whispers but I shake my head. No distractions.

  “Hold him tight,” I command, surprised at the authority in my voice. The guards securing the prisoner give me a sharp nod and tighten their grip. Wow, apparently they really do see me as their princess.