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

by Skye MacKinnon

  So it was real. The pulsing between my legs confirms that. I look down at myself. The glitter has gone, thank the Gods.

  The Gate flickers and a crackling noise fills the air. From beyond the rainbow, four large shapes materialise. They grow bigger, coming closer, until my Guardians step out of the Gate. So graceful. None of them fall down like I did. Typical.

  And Crispin has joined them somehow. Weird.

  I sit up, but something pulls me back. I must be stuck to something on the ground. I turn to see what it is, but a collective gasp from my Guardians makes me look back at them. They’re staring at me, wide-eyed.

  “Look at her! She’s got... wings!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wings.

  The word echoes in my mind.

  Wings.

  How the hell can I have wings? I’m not an angel (definitely not, just ask my adoptive parents). Not a demon, either (I’m not that bad). So why do I have wings?

  They’re not like the demon wings I saw during the battle, all leathery and thick. Nor are they like bird wings. No, they’re like... shimmering dust, gathered together until it forms a half-translucent shape. Delicate, like butterfly wings, but even thinner. They’re all the colours of the rainbow, but purple seems to be slightly dominant. I bend my arms so I can touch where they grow from my back. Nothing. It feels like always, just smooth skin, no weird bone spurts, no feathers, nothing. I can touch the wings, though. And put my hands through them. They’re like gelatine - there is a resistance, but with enough pressure, you can push your way through it. Somehow, I make them flutter. No idea how, but some unknown muscles do it for me. Or magic. Probably the latter.

  “She’s got wings,” Frost huffs, still as wide-eyed as the other Guardians.

  “We can see that,” Arc adds, looking at me like he’s never seen me before. I must make an interesting sight. Naked, with rainbow wings, in the snow.

  Did I mention my life doesn’t make much sense?

  “You must be cold, Princess,” Crispin says and comes to me, offering me his jacket. Finally, one of them has some practical thoughts. I shiver and wrap myself in the leather jacket. It smells like Crispin; a slight scent of pine and aniseed. My lower body is exposed and -

  Wait, I just wrapped clothing around my wings. Shouldn’t that hurt? Or at least be uncomfortable? I look over my shoulder. They are gone.

  “They were there a moment ago, right?” I ask, my voice faltering.

  With a sigh, Storm pulls his shirt over his head. And shows me his wings.

  Wow.

  They’re similar to mine, but much larger, and not translucent at all. The tips are above his head, and the lowest point is just above his knees. They’re a dark blue, almost black, and shimmer in the bright light of the snowy landscape.

  “You have wings. But you didn’t have wings before,” I stutter, totally in shock.

  “Guys, show her,” Storm commands, and the other three Guardians take off their shirts (and in Arc’s case, part of the armour he’s still wearing). Three pairs of wings unfold and take my breath away. Frost’s are a turquoise blue, with darker sapphire hues that weave across them like waves on an ocean. Arc’s are a dark copper, but the tips shine ruby red. And Crispin’s are... well, golden, matching his blonde hair.

  I must be staring at them for minutes, trying to get my head around the fact that they have wings.

  Then I snap. This is too much. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Why do I have wings? Why do I know how to move them? And why...?”

  Crispin shushes me by taking me into his arms.

  “It’s okay, darling, everything will make sense soon,” he whispers. But I want it to make sense now! I’m close to stomping on the ground, but that would be childish. It’s just too much for my brain to take. First, locked into my body, then having sex on a rainbow, and now we all have wings. Somehow that sounds like a bad trip. Maybe I’m still at home, having taken drugs with friends. But I don’t do drugs, and I don’t have many friends either. So maybe not.

  “Damn it, why do you need to have wings? Weren’t you perfect enough already?” I mutter against Crispin’s naked chest. He chuckles. “You’ve got them too. No idea why, but you have them. And they are beautiful.”

  With a sigh, I step back, leaving the comfort of his arms. “How can they just disappear like that?”

  “Magic,” Arc grins. “Everything here is magic. Ya’ll see, and ya’ll love it.”

  Yeah, not too sure about that. It’s all a bit of a shock.

  I look around us. There’s nothing but snow and more snow. The Gate is the only distinctive feature in this icy landscape.

  “Weren’t there supposed to be other Guardians awaiting us?” I ask.

  “Yes, there were,” Storm answers grimly, putting his shirt back on. “Arc, find out where they are.”

  Arc nods and closes his eyes, furrowing his brow. A moment later, he opens them again, sighing deeply. “They were called away by the Queen. An emergency, Thomas says.”

  Storm frowns. “It must have been important. She wouldn’t leave her daughter in danger just for nothing.”

  I chuckle mirthlessly. “She’s left me alone all my life. Why would that change now.”

  Arc puts an arm around my shoulders. “She’ll explain soon, lass. It was fer a good reason.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was,” I huff. I’ll decide that when I hear the explanation. Somehow, I can’t think of anything that would justify leaving your child in another world, only seeing her a few times in twenty-two years. What mother would do that?

  “Look!”, Frost shouts suddenly, pointing towards the sky. I look up - and gasp as a group of Guardians are flying towards us. They look like gigantic birds at first, but as they’re coming closer, I am beginning to see their features. Three men, one woman. The first female Guardian I’m seeing. If she is a Guardian. But then, Crispin had a sister, so female Guardians must exist. Her white-blonde hair is forming a long trail behind her - think comet, but humanoid. Her hair must reach to her feet, at least. Her skin is dark mocha beneath a black jumpsuit; a stark contrast to the light hair and silver wings. Even from a distance, she’s stunning. The three men around her all look the same. Dark blue clothes, dark blue wings, dark blue hair. Their ivory skin is the only thing on them that isn’t dark blue. Whoever created them must have been obsessed with that colour.

  They land a hundred yards or so away from us, gracefully gliding onto the ground before folding their wings. The woman steps forward, flanked by the three men. They must be triplets; it’s impossible to tell them apart.

  When she reaches us, she bows deeply, and the males follow her lead a moment later.

  “Princess, welcome to the Winter Realm. I am Ada, and these are Fox, Lynx and Phoenix. We have been sent by her majesty to escort you to the palace.”

  I’m not quite sure how to respond, so I simply incline my head and say, “Thank you.”

  Until now, she has ignored my Guardians, who have taken up position behind me. Two on each side. Protective, but not overpowering. My heart warms at the thought of having all four of them so close to me. I will need them in this strange world.

  Pointedly avoiding looking at my half-nakedness, Ada hands me a blue uniform; the same that her Guardians are wearing. I gratefully put it on (while I make everyone turn around), revelling in the warmth.

  “We have brought a PT to transport you to the capital,” Phoenix says and steps forward, showing me a bundle of ropes and fabric.

  “A what?” I ask, having no clue whatsoever what this is about.

  Frost snickers. “A portable throne, Princess. The palace is several hours away as the Guardian flies, and it would take us two days on foot.”

  “I’m not letting you carry me like a... like an air ambulance patient!”

  “What?” Frost looks confused. “The Queen travels this way herself.”

  Now it’s my turn to frown. “She doesn’t fly?”

  “She doesn’t have wings,
Wyn. She’s a Goddess, not a Guardian.”

  “But shouldn’t she be able to, I don’t know, magic herself from one place to another? I mean, she’s a Goddess, she must be powerful, right?”

  The woman and her companions stare at me openly. Apparently, they weren’t aware of how clueless I am about my mother and her world.

  “Wyn, your mother is the most powerful of all the Gods. Only she herself knows what she can do. For all I know, she could grow wings, or teleport, or summon a dragon to ride on, but usually, she travels by PT. That way her subjects can see her.”

  “There are dragons?!”

  Frost laughs, putting an arm around my shoulders. “That’s so you, focussing on the least important aspect of what I’m telling you.”

  That earns him an elbow against his ribs. He yelps. “Yes, there are dragons. Not many, though. They keep to themselves mostly. They do send an ambassador to court once a year. Should be soon, actually, I’m sure if you ask your mother you’ll get to meet him.”

  “We should leave, my lady, if we want to arrive before nightfall” Ada interrupts. While I was talking to Frost, the blue Guardians have set up the PT. It’s a strange contraption, but it doesn’t look uncomfortable. It’s a bit like a swing chair, but with safety belts and a footrest. The material looks like leather, but at the same time it’s smooth and soft. I’m going to need to learn so much about this world.

  Again, I’m grateful for having my Guardians. Ada doesn’t look very patient, and I’d never be able to know who of the triplets is who.

  The PT is actually quite comfortable. I’m not sure how much I trust it in the air, though. Yes, there is a safety strap, but who knows how much that thing will swing around. But then, it’s probably safer than trying to fly myself. If I can fly. I’m going to try that later, in a warm place, where I can safely take off my shirt so I can unfold my wings. Although...

  “How do they have their wings out if they’re wearing clothes?” I ask no one in particular, pointing to the triplets.

  “Practice,” Arc shrugs, and extends his own wings, despite having put on clothes again. I walk around him, looking whether they have ripped holes into his shirt. Nope. They just... float through the fabric, or whatever you want to call it. I don’t get those wings... they’re not quite part of their bodies, but yet there they are, growing out of their shoulder blades, moving at their commands. Magic can be so annoyingly confusing.

  “Then why did you take off your shirts earlier?”

  Frost snickers. “Why not?”

  I groan. Men. Why do they have to know how gorgeous they are?

  Ada clears her throat. Yeah, I get it, we have to leave. The triplets take the straps holding up the PT, but with a collective growl, my guys step forward and take them. Good, I feel much safer with my Guardians. No offense to the blue ones, but mine are... well, mine.

  There are four thick straps extending from each of the corners of the throne. My Guardians take one each and wrap it around their waists, then get in position around me, their wings extended. All of them are wearing clothes now. Pity.

  “Lynx and I will fly at the front, and Fox and Phoenix will take the rear,” Ada commands, and her men do what she says. I’m wondering whether she is just their leader, or whether there is more between them. It’s hard to tell with her tough exterior.

  “All ready?”

  Everybody nods, except for me, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Ada bends her knees and jumps up into the air, her wings beating strongly until she’s hovering several metres above ground.

  Lynx is the next one to fly up - now it’s our turn. Hurray. Not sure if my stomach is going to survive this. When I was younger, I used to love going to the fair, trying out all the rides, but when I got older, I began to get queasy in most of them. Not quite to the stage where I had to throw up, but enough to feel uncomfortable. I imagine myself puking while in the PT, and decide that I cannot let that happen. I’m a Princess here, after all. I need to keep face, at least for now, until everybody discovers how unregal I really am.

  “Ready?” Storm asks. I sigh and nod. Let’s just pretend that this is going to be fun.

  As one, they jump, just about managing to keep their wings from touching. I’m hovering in the middle, the PT swinging gently, but mostly under control. I’m really glad my feet aren’t in the air but safely on the footrest. I’m looking down at the ground that is quickly becoming further and further away. The Guardians are flying fast - not quite plane-fast, but close. A cold wind is tousling my hair and biting my cheeks. I could do with a winter jacket right now. But my bags are... where are my bags? Before the battle, we left them in the car, planning to pick them up before going through the Gate. But when I saw my guys on the rainbow bridge, they weren’t carrying anything. I guess the shock of me being knocked out distracted them. Oh well, I hope my mother has some warm clothing prepared for me. Yes, I’m from Scotland, but we mainly get rain and not a lot of snow, at least not in Edinburgh. I’m not used to this kind of dry cold. I shiver and wrap my arms around my chest.

  “Use your magic!” Storm calls to me.

  “I can’t!” I shout back. it dawns on me that I haven’t told them yet about my magic being blocked. I was busy with other... things. Like having sex with Storm.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The palace is huge. Huge like in massive. Ginormous. It’s basically an entire walled city, but all in one large complex. And it looks like something Tolkien would have dreamed up. Turrets reach high into the sky, looking down on intricate walkways and large courtyards. There are gardens all over the place, but not green and colourful like you’d expect them to be. Instead, they’re shades of blue and white. This is the home of the Winter Queen, after all.

  Flags are waving in the wind, but I can’t make out what’s on them yet. Maybe it’s because my eyes are teary from the cold. I miss my magic terribly. Inside of me is a big, dark hole where she used to live. The cave, still blocked, is empty and cold. It’s almost painful when I focus on it.

  “We’ll land on the Queen’s Tower!” one of the triplets shouts against the icy wind. After Storm noticed that I couldn’t conjure any warm air myself, he did it for me, but I’m still cold. The wind is too strong.

  We change course, circling the palace. Down below, people are going about their business, scurrying like little bees looking after their hive. There are hundreds of people outside, and I can’t even begin to imagine how many more will be inside the buildings.

  Around the walls of the palace, a town has grown. You can see that it wasn’t planned this way; there are no straight roads or orderly houses. Instead, it’s a chaotic mishmash of tiny alleys winding around buildings that look like they’ve been randomly placed on the ground. They’re made from some kind of stone that shimmers in the last light of the day. It looks beautiful.

  Out of nowhere, a face appears in the air in front of us. A massive, creepy face of a man with wild eyebrows and a Father Christmas beard. It’s as tall as all four of my Guardians stacked on top of each other. Weird. Well, they told me that I’d come across some strange magic here.

  We’re hovering in front of the face, waiting for something. The face isn’t moving, the eyes aren’t even blinking. That makes it even creepier.

  “What is...” I whisper to my Guardians, but the face interrupts me with a booming voice that’s somehow both inside and outside of my head.

  “Princess Wynter. What are you seeking at her Majesty’s palace?”

  Ehm, wanting to visit my mother? Heading her call? Shouldn’t her... guard-face know that?

  “The Princess has come at the behest of her mother, Queen Beira, Mother of Gods,” Storm shouts against the rising wind.

  “And can the Princess speak for herself?” the face replies, finally blinking for the first time. No, it’s still creepy.

  “She can!” I shout back. “I was invited, so let us in!”

  Probably not the politest response, but I’m cold. Sue me.

  “
Her Majesty is currently unavailable. Please hold.”

  What. The. Fuck. Is he some kind of magic call centre operative?

  Suddenly, there’s another voice in my head, this one female, and rather bossy. “Bernold, what the heck are you doing? You’re not supposed to... oh my, your Majesty!”

  The man’s face blinks out of existence, before being replaced by another one. A woman this time, with puffy cheeks, white hair and laughing lines all around her eyes and lips. She looks like a grandmother who’s just caught one of her grandchildren red-handed.

  “Princess, I am so sorry. Bernold must have slipped into the control room while I wasn’t looking... Come on in, forgive me, he’s going to be punished severely.” The last word is dripping with poison and just before her image disappears, she turns around to look at something behind her, fury written all over her face. I almost feel sorry for Bernold, whoever he is.

  The air shimmers in front of us where the giant face was just a moment ago, and without a word, Ava and her triplets begin to fly towards the palace. We follow and I lean as far I dare to out of the PT to see more of my mother’s home. The closer we get to the buildings, the bigger they seem. Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh is like a shed compared to this one. I start to count the towers, but shouts below distract me. People are standing and pointing towards us. I wiggle uncomfortably on the PT. Can they see my bum? How do I look from below? Am I going to be stared at a lot from now on?

  Usually, I’m one to avoid attention. I’ve never fought to be in the spotlight, and even though I often took the lead in teamwork back at school and university, I prefer to work from inside the group, not as their leader. I’ve got a feeling this might all change now that we’ve finally arrived in the Realms.

  We’ve almost reached the tallest tower of them all. It’s pearl white and shimmers in the evening light. Like everything, it’s got a distinct wintery feel to it all. That’s not to say, everything here is snow-covered or made from ice. No, it’s more the way things seem to be smooth and gleaming. The colours are all in the white and blue spectrum, with few things yellow or red. Okay, this is why I’m not an artist. I’m terrible at describing things.