Fae and Frost: A Christmas Romance (Harper's Mill Book 2)

by Summer Donnelly

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  Goodreads:

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7970511.Summer_Donnelly

  Other books by Summer Donnelly

  Harper’s Mill books

  Hummingbird Dreams, Harper’s Mill 1 by Summer Donnelly

  http://amzn.to/2gOfl4c

  Fae and Frost, a Christmas Romance Harper’s Mill 2 by Summer Donnelly

  Dandelion Dreams, Harper’s Mill 3 by Summer Donnelly (coming January 2017)

  Stand-alone titles: Midnight Honey by Summer Donnelly

  http://amzn.to/2gAEEJv

  © Summer Donnelly, 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement

  Buds emerge; the Spring Sun heals

  And the Scent of Hyacinth

  Dampens the air.

  Under the Strawberry Moon,

  Summer joins her sister with a

  Cambrian explosion

  Of color.

  The first leaf turns

  As an Autumn Rose plays.

  Delicate snow falls in a graceful ballet

  And a Snow Angel twirls in crystalline silence.

  Legend says that the daughters and granddaughters and great-granddaughters of Iolanthe will protect and herald the changes of each season. Spring begets Summer. Summer gives birth to Autumn. Autumn delivers Winter. Winter lets the world sleep until Spring begins the cycle anew.

  Sweat beaded on Jade’s brow as the midwife examined her. “It won’t be long now,” the midwife said with excitement. “Any minute now.”

  “How soon until midnight?” Jade asked, huffing through her latest contraction. She walked around her chamber, clutching her belly.

  Muttering about prophesies and witches, the midwife glanced at the timepiece hung around her neck. “Ten more minutes,” she said with a huff. “But you can’t be sure it will be a midnight birth.”

  Jade panted, pain pulling at her. “It will be at midnight,” she vowed. “Pour in the last kettle of hot water,” she instructed. She removed her skirt and sat in the hip bath waiting by the fire.

  “This room should be closed up. Warm and cozy,” the midwife argued. “Not with the moon shining in like this. It’s not normal,” she complained but poured the hot water into the tub.

  As if on cue, Jade’s mother Moonstone knocked on the door. “It’s almost time, dear,” she said breezily. “It’s the darkest hour of the darkest night of the year. The silver glow of the shimmering Long Night’s Moon is high in the sky. The rest of the prophecy is up to you.”

  Jade nodded and as the Solstice Wind blew, a contraction was upon her, harder than any others. She gritted her teeth before letting out a lion’s breath of pain. And as the clock in the hallway struck midnight, her newest daughter drew her first breath and was christened Snow Angel.

  Jade cradled her baby in her arms, knowing the prophecy was now complete. Four daughters, each born under a full moon. Two daughters born under different equinox moons and two born under different solstice moons. She brushed a kiss across her daughter’s velvety forehead. Her part in the prophecy was complete.

  “I love you, Mo chroí,” she whispered in the hushed silence of her bedroom. The warm fire popped and crackled as tiny bits of sap and moisture were heated to their bursting point. The friendly light of the well-stoked fire heated the small chamber. Moonlight peeked between the drawn curtains and Jade admired the gentle translucence of her daughter’s newborn skin.

  She sat in the warm water, cleaning herself and her daughter. Admiring the miracle of her fourth child and cooing nonsense words to her. Distantly, like a giant release, she felt the placenta rush out of her body.

  The sounds of her mate making her a cup of chamomile tea comforted her as she bonded and kissed and warmed her newborn baby.

  “You should nurse the babe,” the midwife said, packing up her things and placing them back in her leather sack to be cleaned later. Jade handed Snow to her mother for swaddling and stood to dry herself off.

  “I will. In a moment. I want to show her something first,” Jade said.

  “Leave the after birth,” Moonstone commanded. The midwife nodded and left the chamber.

  With her mother’s help, she gingerly slipped into a soft dry robe and approached the window to look at the moon as it reflected brightly against the snow covered vale. The powdery pearlesque confection of snow glistened beneath a blanket of twinkling stars.

  “This is your home, sweet girl. Firefly Glen.” Snow Angel’s fists waved from within the secured bundle of flannel and Jade watched as clouds formed in the still of the night sky. “It will snow by morning, my love,” she whispered, introducing her newest daughter to the light of the moon. “See how the light dances and reflects off each star?” Jade brushed another kiss across her daughter’s forehead. “I can’t wait to watch you dancing beneath the glow of the moon, my sweet.”

  “I cast the rune stones tonight” Moonstone said, smiling down at the newborn fairy.

  “Mother! Why? Knowing too much can be dangerous. You don’t know where it might have led,” Jade scolded, holding her daughter a little tighter in her arms.

  “I needed to know if my suspicions were correct,” Moonstone said, stroking her daughter’s sweat dampened brow. “She will be the one to unite fae and elf. We must get her trained so she can work with your sister Crystal in the north.”

  Jade raised an eyebrow. “Would you mind if I cleaned up from delivery first, Mother?”

  “Your sarcasm is not needed, young lady.”

  “What did the runes tell you we should do with the afterbirth?”

  “They’ll be buried at the base of the rowan tree in the forest,” Moonstone said.

  Movement caught her attention and a small book fell to the floor.

  “Who’s there,” she asked, wondering which of her daughters had snuck in.

  “I saw the midwife leave, Guardian Jade,” came the small voice of a brownie. “I snuck in as she left. Is that the new baby?”

  “Toffee,” Jade said, smiling at the friendly baby brownie. “Yes, little one. This is my new daughter, Snow Angel.”

  Toffee’s whiskers twitched with curiosity as he looked at the newborn baby. “She doesn’t have much fur to keep her warm,” he commented.

  Jade laughed. “No, she doesn’t, little one. I shall have to knit her a scarf of warmest wool to keep her toasty, won’t I?”

  Toffee stared at the small hairless fairy child, somehow knowing their fates would be forever entwined. “I will be her guardian. Her Allegiant,” Toffee vowed, solemnly. “Steadfast in my devotion, I shall follow her forever.”

  Tears formed in Jade’s throat and she nodded, knowing Toffee understood both the gravity and sacredness of his offer.

  Snow lived with her three sisters in the wild meadow their parents had culled away from the tree sprites and naiads. Blessed with full doses of all four seasons, each girl grew healthy and strong with their parent’s love.

  The growing girls befriended the curious irrepressible brownies constantly on the lookout for wild edible mushrooms and the capricious kelpies who splashed in the water of their secluded Eden.

  “Why must we
go to school in the village?” Autumn Rose complained one windy October morning. The gossamer net of her fairy wings twitched with the urge to be free. “We always have to hide our wings, Grandmother. It’s not fair.”

  Grandmother Moonstone smiled at the fidgety girl. “Lessons are everywhere, a stóirín,” she said as she finished plaiting Autumn Rose’s auburn hair. She adjusted the low back of her dress and settled the cloak on her shoulders. “There, aren’t you a beautiful sight,” she said. “As pretty as the season itself.”

  “But Grandmother,” Autumn protested. “The leaves are smiling so brightly against the brilliant blue sky. The sun is refracting off the pond like light off Aunt Opal’s citrine talisman. The day is calling me to greet and name each falling leaf. The geese will soon stop their soulful song. Can I please play in the wild wind today? Soon the snows will come and I won’t be able to play outside again!”

  Snow giggled as she laced up her boots. “You’re so silly, Autumn Rose. I love when the snowflakes sparkle in the light. They pirouette as they fall from the sky and blanket the ground.” Getting up on one toe, she executed her own version of the snowflake ballet while her moon-glow hair spun in synchronicity. Angel’s pale cheeks were flushed with her excitement for the coming change in seasons. “And we can go sledding with the brownies and the water pixies have promised to teach me to dance on the frozen surface of the pond!”

  Strawberry Sun sniffed and tossed her reddish-blonde curls. “It’s much too cold during the winter to be outside,” she protested. Her wild blonde mermaid-like curls fell free of the plait Grandmother had painstakingly woven. “I’d much rather curl up with a good book and a warm fire. At least until the pond is warm enough to splash in.”

  Hyacinth Moon wrinkled her freckled nose at their grandmother. “Make them stop bickering, please Grandmother?”

  “Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you can tell us what to do,” Autumn said.

  “Don’t be a baby, Autumn,” Hyacinth said with the maturity solely reserved for older sisters. “You’re just jealous because I’m starting my apprenticeship next week and will be leaving to live with Aunt Emerald.”

  Autumn sniffed in denial.

  “Besides,” Hyacinth said wrinkling her nose teasingly, “everyone knows the best time to play outside is when everything is new and freshly budding with the baby rabbits gamboling about on their tiny legs.”

  Not being pulled into the girls’ ever present quarreling, Grandmother Moonstone said, “On with you.” Gentle, gnarled hands shooed the squabbling, mischievous girls out the door and down the path towards the village. “Your mother will be back soon enough and I still have much to do.”

  Six years later

  “Can you come out to play tonight?” Toffee, the littlest brownie in his den, asked Snow as they walked through the woods. “I got a new set of acorns,” he said coaxingly.

  “Not tonight, Toffee, I’m sorry,” Snow said with a little frown. “It’s the eve of the Equinox and we are gathering for our yearly celebration. I think the time of my apprenticeship is almost here.”

  “So soon?” Toffee asked, his eyes open in surprise.

  Snow shrugged. “I am going into my eighteenth season, Toffee. I have to begin my training.”

  “Where are you going? Do you know?”

  “I’ll be traveling to the far north with my Aunt Crystal. Ice Keep is small but an important part of winter. “

  “Ah,” Toffee nodded. “Maybe you’ll meet Nicholas?”

  “Santa Claus is a human myth,” Snow said, shaking her head.

  “Well, the jolly fat guy in a sleigh is a human myth,” Toffee said, his eyes bright with brownie mischief. “But the Elves of Evergreen are very real. And big, and mean, and have giant gnashing teeth made to tear little brownies to pieces! They were exiled to Glacier Keep many generations ago because of the Elven Wars. King Nicholas of the Evergreens delivers the toys he and his clan make. Humans have made him fat and jolly but the real elf is quite scary.”

  Snow’s eyes grew large. “I thought it was Nicholas’ brother Krampus who was the scary one.”

  “That’s why it’s so important for the title of king to stay in Nicholas’ line. The red furred elf can’t be replaced by a beast with horns, can it? That’s why Nicholas has so many sons, you know.” Mischief faded and was replaced by fear in Toffee’s brown eyes. “Perhaps one of his sons will capture your fancy and you’ll no longer wish to play Acorn Chess with a mere brownie.”

  Snow rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Toffee. You’re my best friend. My Allegiant. What would I do without you?”

  Toffee smiled at her words, reassured. “Just be careful. Teeth sharp enough to eat a brownie can do bad things to fairies, too.”

  Snow nodded, promising to be careful. Was this another brownie tall tale? The small cat-like animals did enjoy a good yarn. And if Nicholas was so bad, why did he give and make toys to children?

  “I hope Guardian Crystal doesn’t make it snow so much again this year. It was such a bad winter.” He shivered in recollection.

  Snow frowned. “Bad winter? How can a winter be bad?”

  “Turkey tails and Puffballs, don’t you know anything?” Toffee asked, his eyes peeled for his favorite delicacy – fresh mushrooms.

  Snow shook her head slowly. “Winter is winter,” she said. “It is cold. It snows. The land sleeps in order to be reborn. How is that bad?”

  “Oh, for Shiitake sake,” Toffee muttered. “We ran out of food,” he said dramatically. He massaged his soft belly for emphasis and grimaced at the memory. “It was touch and go for a long while,” he complained with brownie flair, as though imparting great wisdom onto a lesser creature. “Even the squirrels had run out of acorns!”

  “I didn’t realize,” Snow said softly. “Don’t you prepare and store food all spring and summer? Winter is a time of sleep and rest.” She smiled. “And play. Sledding and ice dancing and making igloos and snow angels,” she finished with a rush, thinking of all the wonderful activities she could do in the upcoming months. “Or nights where your breath frosts the air and shimmers like a delicate gossamer web.”

  She closed her eyes, wondering about the Elves of Evergreen. She smiled giddily, wondering if there was a son for her. Could elves and fairies be mates? Fairy law allowed for it, she was sure. But what did elvish law say? “And on Christmas Eve, the Winter Guardians and the snow pixies sing in order to send out as many icicles as the seasons will allow. And every child who finds a Christmas Eve icicle will have a wish granted.”

  She opened her eyes to find a distracted Toffee. Snow drifts and icicles bored the little brownie when there was food to be foraged.

  Toffee’s nose twitched as he spotted a particularly bright patch of yellow cap mushrooms. “Just remember,” he said as he scampered away, “it’s hard to play on an empty belly.”

  Chapter One

  When the Equinox sun was at its zenith, Grandmother Moonstone gathered her daughters and granddaughters in the stone circle in the meadow. The warmth of the pale golden sun shone down and warmed them.

  “The fairy, Iolanthe, committed a capital crime under Fairy Law which was to fall in love and marry a mortal human,” she intoned, beginning the story as she had once heard it at the knee of her own grandmother. Guardian to guardian. Generation to generation. Time immemorial. “Once sentenced to death by the Queen of the Fairies, her sentence was commuted to banishment and she remained banished for twenty five years.”

  “But her sisters missed her, didn’t they?” Autumn interrupted, twirling a lock of her wine red hair. She had begun her apprenticeship last year and missed the idyllic childhood she shared with her sisters. Even if she did have to cover her wings for school.

  Grandmother Moonstone tried to look sternly at the growing young woman but the other women hid their smiles, knowing no one could stay angry at the irrepressible and rambunctious Autumn Rose.

  Grandmother Moonstone finally sighed and nodded her head re
gally as she continued the story. “The Queen called out ‘Iolanthe! From thy dark exile thou art summoned’ and she arose from the frog-infested stream into which she had been banished.”

  Snow sighed. This was the part of the story she treasured. Well. Except for the frogs. She could really do without the frogs. Luckily, as a soon to be apprenticed Winter Guardian, frog infested bodies of water were not in her future. Shouldn’t be in her future. Had better not be in her future!

  But the love Iolanthe’s shared with her mate was worth a few decades with the frogs, Snow supposed.

  “Fairy Law has seen many revisions since Iolanthe’s day,” Grandmother’s voice took on the rich vital tones of the fae. “Fairies may marry and have children. They may choose to grow old with their beloved or they may choose to stay youthful and fresh with their family. But one thing that has never changed was the Season Guardians.”

  Hyacinth twitched in her seat. She had heard the story on the eve of every Equinox and Solstice every year of her entire life. There was so much to do and she was eager for Grandmother to wrap it up so she could check on a mother rabbit in her den. She was due back to her post on the morrow but wanted to make sure everything was right within Firefly Glen before she left.

  “Growing seasons are older than man, elf or fairy kind,” Grandmother said. “But the Season Guardians began under Fairy Law. Iolanthe had four daughters – Poppy, Hallaconia, Sunflower, and Holly. Each daughter so loved the season she had been born into that the Queen rewarded their love with the power to protect their chosen season. Prophesy says each generation of daughters would produce a single set of four daughters born at midnight under the glistening night of the full moon. They would apprentice with their aunt or mother until the time came for them to be entrusted with full guardianship.” She paused for effect, letting her words sink in.

  Grandmother Moonstone smiled at her gathered brood and held her hand out to Snow. “It is time, Mo chroí, for you to begin your apprenticeship.”

  The journey north had been interminable, Snow thought. But the view once she arrived in the Arctic was worth it.

  Definitely.