Winter Queen_A reverse harem novel

by Skye MacKinnon

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a door opening and Frost steps into the courtyard.

  “Thor!” I shout, hoping to distract him. “What happens if my lightning was to touch water?”

  “It would become quite explosive. Bigger. More effective. Why?”

  Hopefully, Frost got the message.

  “Just asking,” I reply, suppressing a smirk. “Ready?”

  Thor shrugs, as if he’s bored already. I’m going to show him.

  Frost is staying in the shadows, hiding behind a column lining the courtyard. He gives me a short nod to show that he understood. Let’s do this.

  “Ready, steady…. Go!” I shout, and let the lightning lose all around Thor. At the same time, Frost summons a water dome, imprisoning the God. When the lightning hits the watery cage, all hell breaks loose.

  The water begins to steam and sizzle, and large cracks of lightning tear through the air. Sparks are flying, illuminating the steam which is becoming thicker, hiding Thor from view.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Godspawn,” a voice suddenly says behind me. Thor is standing there, hands in his pockets, looking as relaxed as ever. His eyes however are glinting with delight. “But it’s a very effective one. Well done. Anyone who couldn’t teleport would be trapped – or dead.”

  That’s when reality hits. This can kill people. Not just as a result of collapsing buildings like I did yesterday. No, this lightning can stop hearts, burn through flesh, erase enemies from existence.

  As much as that makes me uncomfortable, I might need this in the future. I know there will be battles. I won’t stay in the Palace and watch others be killed; I’ll be out there, fighting with my Guardians, getting revenge for all Angus and the Morrigan have done to me and my family.

  “How large can lightning be?” I ask Thor, thinking of how effective this would have been back at the Calanais Standing Stones. “How big of an area can it cover?”

  “That solely depends on your magic and how much energy you want to throw into it. Lightning is powerful, but it also uses up a lot of your energy. I’d suggest keeping it as a last resort, because if you use a large amount of it, you’ll be weak after.”

  “Let’s imagine you were fighting a demon army.” Thor raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “How many demons could you kill in one go?”

  He thinks for a moment. “I think my record is about two hundred. You, with your power… maybe half of that. But as I said, be careful with it. Lightning has a mind of its own, and sometimes it takes more than it gives.”

  I nod. I’m well aware of that.

  “Will you be fighting with us?” I ask him.

  His expression changes and he gives me a tiny bow.

  “Of course. I stand with Queen Beira, and now, with you. My soldiers are ready to assist whenever you need them. So are those of my brother. We’ve always stood with the Winter Realm and we will not stop now.”

  Warmth runs through me as I take in his words. I kind of want to hug him, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He still isn’t wearing a shirt, and Frost is watching. I don’t want him to think that I fancy the God of Thunder. I mean, he’s pretty, yes, but I have my Guardians. They’re enough.

  First though, I need to get one of them back on my side. Mission: Crispin is about to begin.

  I stretch out a hand. “Thank you for the lesson, it’s been very enlightening.”

  Thor roars with laughter.

  Chapter Eight

  Crispin isn’t in his room, nor in my mother’s, nor in the hospital wing.

  I follow the bond that connects me to him, using it like a compass. It leads me upwards, high up one of the towers. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this one.

  The magic stairs transport me to the top faster than I could ever run up the steps. It also has the advantage that I’m not out of breath at all when I reach the top floor.

  A curious sight awaits me. It looks like someone took a garden pavilion and transported it on top of a tower. Delicate columns are holding up a circular roof which is protecting a simple iron-wrought bench from the elements. Who had the idea of putting a bench on a tower? I wouldn’t be surprised if it gets blown away by the next storm.

  “Sit with me,” a quiet voice says. Crispin. He’s not on the bench and it takes me a moment to spot him. He’s leaning against one of the pillars, his legs dangling down the side of the tower. One wrong move and he’d be falling. Is he feeling that depressed? No, he has wings, he’d just fly away. Still… I’m worried about him.

  Carefully, I take a seat next to him, staying a bit further away from the edge.

  “How are you?” I ask gently, but he doesn’t respond. I’m tempted to reach out and put an arm around his shoulders, but I resist the temptation.

  This is so awkward. It took me a long time to get Crispin to open up, and now it seems all that was for nothing. He’s pulled up all his barriers again, and it’s my fault.

  I almost killed him.

  I told him to write down what happened to him when he was a prisoner of the Morrigan. I made him go through that all again.

  I didn’t listen to him when he told me to stay away from Blaze’s sparklies.

  I made him open his heart to me, and then I crushed it.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I’m saying that far too late, but I’m really, really sorry.”

  He doesn’t reply. I fold my hands, pressing my fingernails into my palms. That pain is only an echo of what’s going on in my chest though. Crispin’s silence is slicing through my heart, cutting me into little pieces. And I deserve it. I did the same to him.

  “I hope you ignored what I told you to do back when… when the messenger came…”

  “No,” he says quietly, almost inaudible. “I wrote it all down and gave it to Tamara. It was necessary, you were right.”

  “No, I wasn’t. You weren’t ready, I was…”

  “It’s not all about you!” he suddenly shouts. “You don’t get to decide when I’m ready. You don’t get to apologise for something that isn’t your fault!”

  He still isn’t looking at me, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at him in confusion. What is he trying to say? That I’m self-obsessed? Selfish? Not caring about others? Whatever it is, it hurts.

  Questions are running through my mind, but I’m too scared of his reaction to ask them. I don’t want to hurt him even more. I’ve done enough already.

  “You’ll hate me,” he mutters into the silence. “When you read it, you’ll hate me.”

  “I could never hate you, Crispin,” I whisper, still fighting against the urge to touch him. “I saw how she made you do things, you showed me.”

  “I didn’t show you everything,” he says bitterly. “You didn’t see the worst of it. I don’t deserve to be here. I should be rotting in a dungeon below the Palace, not sitting at the top of a tower with the heiress to the Winter throne.”

  He’s confusing me. So he’s not actually angry at me for cracking his skull? He’s been avoiding me because he’s drowning in self-doubt? I didn’t expect that.

  “Well, then I should be in the dungeon with you for attempted murder,” I say, trying to make my voice jovial and light.

  He doesn’t smile though. “That was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “Ehm, no, it couldn’t. How many Demigoddesses with weird powers do you know who’ve been addicted to unicorn sparklies?”

  This time, his lips twitch a little. “True, you’re unique. Do you still feel the urge to seek out Blaze?”

  He’s switched to his healer persona, but I’m letting him do that if it makes things easier for him.

  “No, being in the Library cured that.”

  Finally, he turns to me with a look of curiosity.

  “You went to the Library of Lives again?”

  Of course, I forgot he wasn’t there when I told the other three.

  “Yes, but it was different this time.” I give him a quick roundup of wha
t happened, how I got to see my mother’s book, how I decided to come back to this life.

  “Do you think the Morrigan has a book there?” I suddenly ask when I’ve finished my tale.

  “Yes, everybody has.”

  “Could we look at it? See what her plans are? Learn more about her past, perhaps, find something that will help us predict how she’ll act?”

  “It’s a good idea, but the Library is a neutral place.” Crispin sighs. “In times of war, neither party are allowed to look at the books of people on the other side. We wouldn’t even be able to read one of her soldiers’ books. It’s frustrating, but it makes sense. Otherwise, the Library would become a target.”

  Pity. Just when I thought I’d found a new way to fight the Morrigan, it turns out other people have thought of that before. Figures. I’m new to all this, I’m not going to reinvent the wheel.

  “I’m glad you came back,” he says, as if that had ever been in question.

  “Of course. I have things to do. And people I love.”

  I put a lot of emphasis on that last word, to make sure he knows that he’s included in that.

  And to be even more thorough, I finally put an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. I’ve missed his touch, his scent.

  “You should read what I gave Tamara,” he says though and gently moves out of my embrace. “Come find me after if you still want to talk to me.”

  He gets up and jumps off the tower.

  Moments later, he reappears, his golden wings fully unfolded, glistening in the sunlight. He does a loop and then disappears out of sight, leaving me with an empty feeling deep within my heart.

  “You don’t have to read this,” Tamara tells me with a worried frown. “I’ve started making notes of the most important points and will present them at tomorrow’s Council meeting.”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to do this. I’ve already seen Crispin’s memories. How much worse can reading this be?”

  With a gentle nod, she leaves me to it.

  It turns out, a lot worse.

  It’s as if his voice is speaking in my head, telling me of all the suffering he went through. I can’t switch off this inner monologue, and it makes it even more heartbreaking.

  He killed children.

  He tortured people for weeks.

  He assassinated dozens of Guardians.

  And worst of all, he slept with the Morrigan.

  That’s what finally makes my tears flow, after holding them back for a long time.

  The Morrigan forced herself on him. It’s clear from his words that he didn’t want it. He doesn’t say it, but I know that it was rape. She had him under her control and she took advantage of him.

  When I’ve finished reading, I stumble off the chair and sit down on the floor in a corner. I need to think. I somehow need to work through this. There are so many emotions fighting in my chest, and I’m feeling bad because if this is how strong my reaction is to this, how much worse did Crispin feel while writing it all down?

  I forced him to. He followed my commands, just like he was expected to.

  I made him relive all the torture and violence, both what he received and what he did to others. I can’t imagine him doing any of these things though. He was another person back then. Someone created to do terrible deeds. What’s important is that he managed to fight it all and become a good person. Someone walking in the light, not in the dark the Morrigan created him in.

  “Wyn?”

  Frost enters the room and looks at me strangely when he notices me sitting in a corner.

  “What’s wrong? I felt your distress.”

  Did I accidentally use the bond? Or is this a new development?

  “Crispin,” I say simply and hold up the bunch of papers I’ve been reading.

  “Oh. We told him not to write it. He knew that you weren’t yourself when you ordered him to. But he said he wanted to do it anyway. There was no stopping him.”

  He sits down by my side and pulls me close. I melt into his touch, enjoying the warmth and comfort he’s immediately giving me.

  “Do you want me to read it so we can talk about it?” he asks but I shake my head.

  “No, I don’t think he would want that. I know why he wrote it, there is a lot of information in there that will help us. Tamara is going to compile a report by tomorrow. But her and I should be the only people reading it.”

  “Alright, but you know I’ll be here if you want to talk about it.”

  I smile at him and cuddle against him. “I know. Thanks for being here.”

  His sea breeze scent slowly pulls me out of the dark feelings hammering in my chest.

  “Do you want to kiss?” he asks.

  “That’s a very strange thing to ask. Are we back at primary school?”

  He laughs. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted that right now. I don’t want to intrude.”

  I know what he means. I’m feeling bad about Crispin, and maybe I shouldn’t be making out with another Guardian. But I need some time to think everything through before I talk to Crispin again. He might still be flying anyway.

  “Kiss me, you silly Guardian.”

  “Of course, my Princess,” he says in mock reverence, and cups my cheeks, pulling me close. When his lips touch mine, I focus on it with all I can, pushing back the memories of what I just read, at least for a while. I’m going to deal with them later.

  For now, I need to heal, so I can heal Crispin.

  Frost is gentle, so different from his brother. His kiss is soft and loving, sweet and slow. It’s just what I need in this moment. He makes me feel good.

  He removes one hand from my cheek and wraps it around my waist, readjusting my position until I’m sitting on his lap. Something hard is pressing against me from below and I smile against his kiss, knowing that this won’t stay tame.

  I concentrate for a moment, focussing on the door. With a click, it locks, and I know that a yellow shine will be showing around it. My mum told me that trick – now, nobody will be able to enter or listen in. Privacy is important in a Palace full of gossiping servants and courtiers.

  Satisfied that we’re going to be undisturbed, I slip my hands under his shirt and pull it up, breaking the kiss so he can take it off. I stare at his smooth, chiselled chest. He’s been training a lot recently, and it’s made his muscles even more defined. I run my hands over his abs, enjoying the feel of it. He’s gorgeous, inside out.

  “Take off your clothes,” he says, his voice suddenly reminding me a lot of his brother’s. It makes me shudder in anticipation.

  I pull my shirt over my head and he sucks in a breath. My seamstress made me several sets of lingerie, and I’m wearing my new favourite bra, made of a fabric that’s something of a mix between satin and lace. It’s delicate but strong enough to hold my breasts in the perfect position.

  I have to get up to get out of my shoes and my black linen trousers. His gaze heats when he sees my matching panties. They don’t leave a lot to the imagination.

  “Stay like that,” he tells me when I’ve stepped out of my trousers. He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer. He nudges me to spread my legs a little, giving him the perfect view. I shiver at the intensity of his gaze.

  When his tongue touches my skin, I gasp. He licks at the spot just below my belly button, then slowly going down, grazing his teeth over the fabric of my panties. Why didn’t he take them off? Why didn’t I take them off?

  He’s such a tease.

  His hands are wandering to my arse, squeezing at the same time as his tongue reaches that most special spot. Despite the fabric, his touch is electrifying, making me quiver as he begins to suck on my bud. Goosebumps are racing up my body and I tangle my hands in his hair, pressing him harder against my skin, encouraging him to suck harder.

  He chuckles and begins to flick his tongue back and forth, giving me new waves of pleasure. My breath is getting faster. He knows exactly how to touch me; he’s playing me l
ike an instrument. His hands are massaging my cheeks, one finger precariously edging closer to my entrance.

  I’m shaking. I won’t last for much longer.

  His finger draws little circles, teasing me, making me moan loudly.

  His tongue is getting faster and faster, before he suddenly sucks in hard at the same time as entering me with his finger. I come apart, screaming and quivering. His other hand is on the small of my back, steadying me as I ride the waves of that most amazing orgasm.

  With one final flick of his tongue, he leans back, looking at the soaked fabric of my panties.

  I sink to my knees, falling into his arms. He holds me gently while my breath slowly returns to normal. How did he manage this with me still being half dressed?

  He runs his fingers over my bare arms, caressing my skin. His touch is so full of love that I can’t help but turn around and kiss him again, more passionate this time. I nudge his lips with my tongue until he opens his mouth, allowing me to enter. I soak in his taste, that sea salt scent, the feeling of the ocean. My magic is purring loudly in my chest, but I try and ignore her.

  When I break the kiss, both of us are flushed and breathing heavily.

  “Your turn,” I whisper. “Take off your jeans. And whatever you’re wearing underneath. If you’re wearing something.”

  He gives me a suggestive wink and does as I asked. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s not wearing anything beneath his trousers. That seems to be a recurring theme with my men. They all seem to have an aversion to underwear.

  His cock is hard, unsurprisingly.

  “Sit down.”

  Again, he follows my command and sits by my side, his cock pointing up, ready for attention. I smile and lean down, pressing a gentle kiss on his tip. His skin is soft and warm, and even here, he has that sea salt taste.

  I take him into my mouth, slowly, teasingly. He groans as I touch him with my tongue, before taking him in deeper. He’s not as thick as his brother, but longer, I think. They’re not twins in every place, apparently.

  I wrap a hand around his balls, admiring once again the softness of his skin.