Winter Heiress

by Skye MacKinnon

  “Now push your magic into his body, not his mind.”

  I shudder as I remember Crispin teaching me just that back at Chesca’s cottage. That was just before he almost strangled me. No wonder it was such a trigger for him.

  “Very good, my dear,” she whispers sweetly. “Now search for the nerves in his back.”

  Dream-Crispin nods as if he’s in a trance. He’s under her spell, even if he doesn’t know it.

  “Now make him feel pain. Remember how he beat you. Make him feel the same agony. Stimulate the nerves until he can’t take it any longer.”

  The naked man begins to scream again. It’s a high-pitched wail that’s tearing at my heartstrings. I want to help him, but there’s no way I can. Dream-Crispin’s forehead is furrowed in concentration, but he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing. The prisoner’s legs are twitching uncontrollably and his screams are getting louder.

  A sob makes me look at the real Crispin next to me. His face is pale, his eyes bloodshot.

  “I wasn’t myself,” he whispers. “I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t myself.”

  “Shhh, it will be okay.” I try to comfort him, but he avoids my eyes, evading my touch.

  “Of course you weren’t yourself. The Crispin I know would never hurt anyone,” I reassure him, but the screams of the man in front of us tell a different story. Goosebumps are covering my skin as I see a smile on dream-Crispin’s face. Please don’t… I don’t want to see him like that. Better to see him chained up in that dark room than seeing him smile while torturing a man.

  The Morrigan is laughing, patting dream-Crispin’s head like a dog.

  “You’re even better than I imagined! Oh darling, I’m so proud of you!”

  The real Crispin sinks on his knees, hugging himself. I kneel next to him, extending an arm to hug him, but he shakes his head.

  “Don’t.”

  Turning away and getting up is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. He’s hurting and I can’t bear seeing him like that. But I also want to respect his wishes. I need to give him space.

  Wiping away a tear, I look back at the memory in front of me. The man on the table is no longer moving, but his chest is moving up and down, so at least he’s not dead. Dream-Crispin has opened his eyes and is now looking at the Morrigan with a dreamy expression. What’s happening? Has he forgotten what she did to him? How she beat him every day for a month? How she chained him to a wall like an animal?

  “Tomorrow, you can do the same thing again. Would you like that? Hurting the man who hurt you?”

  Her voice is sweet, but I can hear the venom in it. She is poisoning Crispin’s mind and she’s succeeding. He’s vulnerable, knowing nothing but abuse. I have to remember that he’s only a month old at this point. She’s being nice to him and he’s greedily latching on to that. Would I act any different?

  Without warning, the scene changes. We’re in a dark hallway, the only light is coming from the moon outside the tall windows. In front of us, dream-Crispin is sneaking down the corridor, keeping close to the wall, hiding in the shadows. I check on the real Crispin next to me. His face is a mask of fear, but he gives me a brave nod.

  “You’re doing so well,” I reassure him. “Don’t forget how strong you are. Just being here proves that.”

  He smiles a little and I turn back to dream-Crispin, my heart feeling a little lighter. No matter how small his smile was, it gives me hope that he’ll get through this.

  We follow the ghostly shape through a maze of corridors until we reach an ornate door. Dream-Crispin opens it soundlessly and we hurry to follow him before he closes the door again.

  It’s a bedroom, richly decorated with tapestries and expensive carpets. In the middle of the room is a four-poster bed. This is the home of someone rich, no doubt about that.

  Dream-Crispin tiptoes to the bed, looking down at the person sleeping in it. He reaches out and touches the woman’s chest. She’s old, her white hair is spread around her head on the pillow. He closes his eyes and the woman stops breathing.

  He killed her.

  Crispin assassinated someone.

  Oh Gods. So it’s true. Crispin was a killer.

  Without a look back at the dead woman, dream-Crispin leaves the room. We follow him until he’s outside the house. He expands his wings and jumps into the air.

  I give the real Crispin a questioning look and he nods.

  “We need to follow him. I’ll explain in the air.”

  I spread my wings and fly. The exhilarating feeling I usually get when flying doesn’t come. I’m too busy trying to avoid thinking of the dead woman in her four-poster bed. Who was she? What did she do to have to die?

  We fly silently, following dream-Crispin through the night. He’s fast as if he has to get to his destination in a hurry.

  “At this point, I had been her assassin for decades,” Crispin begins quietly and I have to strain to hear him. “I killed and tortured whenever she commanded. It became my life. She’d tell me what to do and I did it. Then she’d smile at me and for a moment, a ray of sunshine came into the darkness inside me. I lived for her smiles. I wanted her to be proud of me.

  “She was the only person I ever spoke to. She took care to keep me isolated. I never spoke to my victims. I gave them pain or death, but I never talked to them. I slept in a room connected to hers, and sometimes she would come to mine at night to tell me how good I was being. Then I smiled and slept well, thinking of how happy I made her. I’d forgotten all about the pain she’d made me suffer at the beginning.

  “I don’t remember everything of that time. I was a shell, doing what I was told, not thinking about what it meant to kill someone. I existed but I didn’t live.

  “But over time, things slowly changed. I guess I developed a conscience. It began slowly. I would use less painful methods to torture her victims. I wouldn’t prolong death like she sometimes commanded. I’d claim I’d lost control of my magic, but she soon noticed that I was no longer as loyal as I had been. So she came up with a new way to control me. Lily.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dawn is rising. A golden sheen spans the horizon, matching the note of hope in Crispin’s tale.

  Dream-Crispin is descending and we follow him. We’re approaching a dark palace, almost as big as my mother’s, but instead of white stone, it’s all black. The turrets are jagged and spiky, seemingly piercing the sky. It’s not a welcoming place, but it looks like it’s our destination.

  Dream-Crispin lands on one of the towers and a moment later, we do the same. We descend along a narrow staircase until we reach a simple circular room. It doesn’t have any doors besides one leading to a small bathroom; the only way to reach it is from the roof. Not a problem for Guardians, though, and I assume that the Morrigan has wings as well.

  The only furniture in the room is a bed, a wardrobe and a crib. Dream-Crispin hurries to the latter and picks up a baby from it.

  Oh. Lily. Is that the sister Storm mentioned when he told me about Crispin’s past?

  She’s sleeping, happily suckling on her thumb. Dream-Crispin is smiling widely as he carries her over to the bed and sits down with her in his arms. His eyes are full of love for the little baby. He looks a lot more like the Crispin I know. Warm, happy, gentle. Not at all like the Crispin we saw not long ago, killing a defenceless woman. I feel queasy. It doesn’t go together in my head how this can be one and the same person. The ruthless killer and the man smiling at a baby.

  The real Crispin walks to the bed and looks down at the sleeping girl. A tear runs down his face, but he’s smiling. A sad smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

  “She was an experiment,” he begins, never turning his gaze away from the baby. “The Mistress… the Morrigan wanted to see if a Guardian created in the shape of a baby would grow. When she didn’t, I was told to kill her. But I couldn’t. Even in my dark state of mind, I couldn’t kill a baby. When I refused, the Morrigan smiled. Before, I would have done anything for that smile, but sudd
enly, I found it revolting. Lily opened my eyes to the Morrigan’s cruelty, but she used that against me. I was given Lily to care for, something I did gladly. But in return for Lily’s safety, I had to do what was demanded of me. I had to become the cruel monster again that I had just started to leave behind.”

  Dream-Crispin is gently stroking the fluffy hair on Lily’s head. It’s strange to think that she’ll be a baby for all her life. How cruel of the Morrigan to even do an experiment like that. But then, after what I’ve seen today, it shouldn’t surprise me. Life means nothing to her, all she wants is pain and destruction. She seems to thrive off it. And to think that Crispin was her slave for so long… My heart is too broken to break again. It’s going to take me a while to get my head around it all. How my beautiful, amazing Crispin started off as a heartless murderer, doing the Morrigan’s every wish… no. I can’t understand how that happened.

  “Around that time, I learned that I was a wanted man,” Crispin resumes his tale. “They thought I was a lone assassin, they didn’t know about the Morrigan having me under her control. It was Beira herself who commanded that I had to be caught. So I made a plan. The Morrigan was threatening Lily more with every day, but I couldn’t continue killing on her behalf. I needed to find a way out.”

  The scene changes, with the room turning into a very familiar place. My mother’s bedchamber.

  I shoot Crispin a questioning look but he doesn’t respond, instead looking at dream-Crispin who is sneaking towards my mother’s bed. It reminds me of the scene we watched earlier, where he assassinated the old woman. Surely, he’s not going to try and kill Beira?

  No. When he reaches her bedside, he kneels on the floor, bowing his head.

  “Your Majesty,” he says loud and clear and Beira sits up, wide awake.

  “I was wondering what you were going to do. So you’re the famous assassin?”

  If he’s surprised that she knew he was in the room, he doesn’t let on.

  “I’m here to hand myself in. I only ask that you will free someone from the claws of the Goddess who has held me captive.”

  “And who may that be?” my mother asks coldly.

  “The Morrigan.”

  A look of shock passes over my mother’s face before her usual mask returns.

  “You say the Morrigan has held you captive?”

  Dream-Crispin nods. “She created me and forced me to do her bidding. I killed on her command, but that is no excuse. Do with me what you want, but please free Lily. She’s another one of the Morrigan’s creations, but she’s innocent. She needs to be saved, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “And why would I do that and interfere with the business of another Goddess?”

  I can’t believe my mother just said that. Surely, she’s responsible for the deeds of the other Gods? She’s the highest of them all, with the exception of Angus, of course.

  “Because you’re the Mother of Gods,” Dream-Crispin says quietly. “You wouldn’t let anyone suffer who you could help.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” My mother’s voice is as cold as ever, but there’s a slight smile on her lips.

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Crispin’s conviction is clear and I’m sure my mother sees that as well.

  She sighs. “You will have to tell me more about what the Morrigan has been doing.”

  I turn away as he begins his sorry tale, holding on to the real Crispin. We cry together as dream-Crispin speaks of all the pain he brought in the Morrigan’s name. How she killed hundreds, if not thousands of people. How she experimented on Guardians, how she created abominations only to torture and kill them shortly after. It’s worse than I could have imagined.

  “How did you survive?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t live until I met Lily.”

  “What happened to her?”

  He clings to me as he takes a deep breath.

  “The Morrigan killed her when Beira stormed her palace. And then she escaped. It was all for nothing. Lily died and the Morrigan disappeared. The life I had just began to live disappeared in front of my eyes. I wanted to die, I didn’t feel like I deserved to live. But Beira didn’t let me. She didn’t even imprison me for what I’d done. Instead, she sent me to live with Freya, one of her friends.

  “Freya didn’t know who I was. She thought Beira had sent me to her as a present, as a new lover. I wasn’t her type, but she kept me anyway. Taught me how to play chess, how to drink, how to laugh. She helped me forget. We should visit her sometime.”

  We break apart. His tears have dried and so have mine. I’m seething inside that the Morrigan escaped justice, but I am happy that in the end, Crispin managed to start a new life. But I tear up again when I think of Lily. How can you kill a baby? There’s nothing more innocent than a new-born child. Rage is filling my veins. The Morrigan was never punished, but somehow, I will make sure that she will be. She needs to pay for what she did. And I will make sure she does, even if it’s the last thing I do.

  We wake up in each other’s arms. Crispin is looking at me hesitantly, as if he’s not sure if I’ve changed my mind about him.

  In response, I kiss him on the nose.

  Arc chuckles from behind me.

  “Shall I join ya?”

  “No, Crispin and I need some alone time,” I say resolutely and with a disappointed snort, Arc leaves and takes the other two Guardians with him.

  “Are you okay?” I gently ask Crispin. He hesitates before answering.

  “I’m not sure. I think I need to get used to the idea that someone… you… saw my memories. I’ve never told anyone and now… I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Take your time, but I’m always there to talk.”

  “I know.” He smiles. “You were right. Sharing did make me feel better. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I whisper. “How about some distraction?”

  He frowns. “You still want me? After seeing all that?”

  I move closer to him until our bodies touch. “Yes. I’ll always want you.”

  And to drive the point home, I slide my hands under his shirt, touching his smooth chest.

  With one sudden move, he pulls me on top of himself until I’m straddling him. His mouth seeks mine and he kisses me hungrily. I return the kiss, nudging his tongue with mine, showing him that I want him. All of him. His past, his present, his future.

  I’m thankful to the others for giving us some alone time. Well, almost an entire alone day. They probably think we’ve been at it like rabbits, but we didn’t actually do anything more than kiss. Maybe a bit of touching, too, but I think neither of us had the energy for more. So we just lay there, holding each other, giving each other comfort. Just because I’ve seen Crispin’s wounds doesn’t mean that they’ve automatically healed. On the contrary, I think he’s raw right now, with old memories returning to the surface. He woke me a few times, whimpering in his sleep. I feel bad for putting him through this, but I also know that it’s necessary. He’s no use to anyone if he can’t step away from his past.

  I watch him as he sleeps: his messy blond hair is covering his forehead, his mouth is relaxed with a hint of a smile, despite everything he’s been through. Even though I saw some of his past, I know that he only showed me a few select glimpses. There must have been more terrible things that happened to him, but you wouldn’t know it looking at him. He has no scars on his skin, but they linger just below it, hidden from view until you look beneath the surface. I’m glad I did. It makes me love him even more. And understand why he held back for so long.

  I’m not sure how yet, but I’m going to make the Morrigan pay for this. I need to talk to my mother, maybe she knows where the Goddess is hiding. There must be rumours; a Goddess as pompous and proud as the Morrigan can’t just disappear without leaving a trace. Does my mother keep tabs on all the Gods she created?

  I hope she does.

  “Good morning,” Crispin whispers sleepily and I swipe my thoughts away. Those can wait.


  “How did you sleep?”

  “Is it cheesy to say that I slept well knowing you were sleeping next to me?”

  I chuckle. “Yes, I’d call that cheesy. But it’s okay to be like that occasionally.” I don’t mention that I’m aware of all his tossing and turning, of his whimpers. He obviously didn’t sleep well, but I’m going to let that pass for now.

  “You look cute when your hair is all frazzled,” he mumbles, still not quite awake.

  I laugh and ruffle his hair.

  “You’re kind of cute as well. Do you want to sleep a bit longer?”

  He looks tempted but he shakes his head. “I think we have some work to do. Let’s find out if your mother has any news for us about the assassin they caught. They should have been able to interrogate him by now.”

  My heart sinks at the thought. I’ve not been here long enough to know what kind of interrogating they do in the Realm. Is it medieval torture? Or mind magic like Arc can do? Or simply questioning without violence? It’s hard to tell - some things here are quite old-fashioned, but at the same time, my mother is a lot less violent than people think. She’s actually got a good heart, no matter how thick the icy shell around it is.

  The assassin doesn’t look very evil. More like a sad Viking with a mop of dirty blond hair, a broad stature and shabby clothes.

  He’s sitting in his cell, hugging his legs, looking quite lost. He’s young, maybe in his mid-twenties. He doesn’t look like a dragon either, but then, I’ve never met one of them before. I assume they’re like the werewolves people tell stories about on Earth who can shift between shapes. If not, then it’s a very disappointing dragon.

  The cell isn’t like I imagined it either. It’s not a dark dungeon with iron bars. Instead, it’s a white room with no bars or door at all. A shimmering, translucent wall of thin ice is all that’s between him and us. It looks brittle, but I’m sure it’s as strong as crystal. The only prisoner to have ever escaped my mother’s Palace was Colan, my father, and I’m not sure if she maybe let him escape.