Polar Destiny

by Skye MacKinnon

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Author’s Note

  Other books by Skye MacKinnon

  Acknowledgments

  Preview: Polar Fates

  Polar Destiny

  A Shifter Romance

  Skye MacKinnon

  © 2017 Skye MacKinnon

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Skye.mackinnon@hotmail.com

  Cover by magicalcover.de.

  Published by Peryton Press.

  A note on spellings.

  This book has been written by a Scottish author using British English. Please don’t hold this against me :)

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Author’s Note

  Other books by Skye MacKinnon

  Acknowledgments

  Preview: Polar Fates

  Prologue

  London and New York were among the first to sink. Berlin and Mumbai quickly followed.

  In the past, cities were built close to the sea to have access to resources and trade. Now, their locations became their downfall.

  What had been predicted to take years, decades even, happened in a few months. When the permafrost in the Russian tundra melted for the first time in tens of thousands of years, billions of tonnes of methane were set free. The gas rose into the atmosphere and caused a bigger greenhouse effect than all the CO2 that humans had produced since the industrial revolution. Climate change was set on steroids. The ice caps melted rapidly, and the sea levels rose.

  Britain sank. All that is left now in the North is a group of islands that were once the Highlands of Scotland. Most are fenced off and isolated. When the Drowning happened, society collapsed. Bankers and politicians were no longer needed. That was thirteen years ago, and I hardly remember it.

  Today, we become farmers, craftspeople, cooks, mechanics. And healers, like me. There are no universities left, so instead of doctors we now train as healers. It's a new form of medicine – actually, an ancient one. Back to the middle ages. No x-ray machines, no sterile surgeries, no antibiotics besides the few bottles that we have left. Instead, I'm learning about herbs, roots and flowers that could help treat my patients. Our island's only surgeon is trying to teach me what he knows, but without labs, computers and robots to rely on, he's struggling. I don’t know what’s going to happen once all the doctors trained in the old world have died.

  I’m an anomaly. On Salvation Island, you’re expected to leave school at 14 and contribute to society. And if you're a girl, you're supposed to marry. And birth children, as many as possible. Until now, I had been spared from that. But not anymore.

  One

  Last night, my uncle told me that I was going to marry Marcus. He didn't ask me. It was a statement. What he decrees is done. Even if it's marrying his niece off to the highest bidder.

  Somehow I had convinced myself that this day would never come. That he would see my medical training as a bigger priority than increasing the island's population. Not that it's all about that. No. A woman is precious - for the man who owns her. Giving me to a man means my uncle will get something in return. Power. Influence. Loyalty. And apparently, that's more important than having a healer to care for his people. At least I'm not a child bride. I got to wait until a week after my twentieth birthday to be given the good news. Lucky me.

  Sometimes I wish I had cousins that he could impose his wishes on, then maybe I’d be left alone. But he never managed to father any children himself. Perhaps I should be happy about that.

  Yesterday evening, after he told me, he locked me in my room. It doesn't have windows; my uncle is too clever for that. He knows I wouldn't stay if I didn't have to. Besides our shared blood there's nothing that binds me to him.

  There are very few people who have been allowed to leave the island. Usually men who found a woman somewhere else, and who promised to send back resources. Sometimes they even managed to swap for a woman from a mostly female island. Not every place was as predominantly male like ours.

  And then there were the people who left without permission. I know of only two: George was in his late forties and become my uncle's main adversary. He didn't agree with his way of ruling the island. George wanted a democracy rather than tyranny, but of course my uncle didn't like that way of thinking. So one night George disappeared, taking one of the boats. We found his body washed up on the beach a few days later. I still don't know if he left and capsized, or if he was killed. Knowing my uncle, I almost suspect the latter.

  The other person to escape was Julie. As a child, I looked up to her, even though she was only a few years older. But to me, she was perfect. She came up with the most amazing games, and wasn't above playing a trick on the adults. My parents had died not long before, and she showed me the love and kindness that I thought I had lost. When I got older, she became my friend. We did everything together. My uncle didn't like it; I think he disapproved of me being seen running around freely rather than being the demure little niece he wished he had. He restricted the time I was allowed to play more and more, but whenever I managed to sneak outside, I would seek out Julie.

  When she turned sixteen, however, my uncle announced that she was to be married. She refused. Her mother did, too, but as a woman, she had no say in it. Julie's father had died during the Drowning, and as a single mother, she was the lowest of the low.

  My uncle decided to indulge the men of the island by organising an auction - with Julie as the prize. Ten men bid on her in the most humiliating ceremony I have ever witnessed. She was standing on the stage in the community hall, trembling, while the men were leering at her like a prized cow. I was standing at the back of the crowd, crying silent tears at seeing my friend so humiliated. She had always been the strong one, but now, she had been reduced to a whimpering girl in the tight grip of my uncle.

  The man who won her didn't wait for a marriage ceremony. He took her home straight away, his friends cheering him on while he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her down the street. I cried all night.

  The next morning, she didn't leave her new husband's house, nor the next. On the third day, I sneaked in through a window. She was lying on the stained bed, her arm tied to a bed post. Bruises were covering her face and there was blood on the pillows. Her eyes were full of shame, and no matter how often I told her that everything was going to be okay, neither of us believed it.

  I cut her loose and she gave me a shaking hug before climbing out of the window. She disappeared, and so did one of the boats. My uncle was furious. He didn't have proof that I had freed Julie, but he punished me for it anyway.

  And he promised the man who had mistreated Julie so badly that he would get another woman instead.

&n
bsp; And today, he made true on his promise. The woman is going to be me. He's giving his only niece to the man who beat my best friend into submission. Guess why I'm feeling upset right now.

  I spent all morning in the room, and half of the afternoon, reading an old anatomy book, trying to distract myself from the fact that I'm being sold to the highest bidder like a prized cow. That tonight I'm going to become a wife, and, if everything goes according to my uncle's plans, a mother.

  Today is special because it’s the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. And probably the coldest. The day of my wedding. Everyone has put on their finest clothes for the celebration. Night has almost fallen, and torches are lighting up the sky. Lampions are hanging from the trees and candles are flickering on long wooden tables set up in the village square.

  This is going to be the biggest party we've had since the summer solstice. I just wish I could enjoy it as much as the people dancing to the sound of fiddles all around me. Instead, I'm sitting on a bench, my teeth chattering from the cold, looking deep into an almost empty mug of ale. It's Mitch's strong stuff, and I can already feel my mind becoming a little lighter. Maybe with enough alcohol, I can somehow get through this night without killing someone. Or myself.

  I get up and go to the nearest table. Jane is sitting there surrounded by men, guarding the whisky bottles. She shoots me a sad smile. She's been through the same thing that awaits me. Only, when she didn't get pregnant, she was passed on to another man. And another. Now that everyone knows she's infertile, she's free game. Only the most important men on the island are allowed to have offspring, but if that danger isn't there... I'm almost hoping that Marcus will be able to get me pregnant. With that cheery thought, I grab one of the bottles and turn away, back to my bench. This is going to be a long night.

  Half a bottle of whisky later, my uncle steps onto a podium. Every eye turns to him. "Tonight my beloved niece, Isla, will give her hand in marriage... blablabla... I'm sure you all wish her the best... blabla..."

  I don't care. Everything is fuzzy. I want to leave. I get up and walk away. No one is noticing me slip into the darkness. I stumble and almost slip in the thin layer of snow covering the ground. Everyone is at the party. Maybe the boats are left unguarded. They never are, usually. I get to the beach. And forget about the boats. The sea isn't water anymore. It's ice. A thick sheet of ice. Wow, when did that happen?

  The ice calls to me. I can't see far; heavy fog covers everything. There are islands in the distance, I have seen the maps. Many of them are uninhabited, but maybe I can survive? I'm good at surviving. I have done it for the past twenty years.

  I carefully step onto the ice. It's thick and doesn't budge. I jump a little. No cracks. It seems safe. One last look back. Fires are burning in the distance and laughter fills the air. My home. Not anymore. I can't stay. I laugh to myself. Not sure why, but I feel like it.

  I'm walking further. Sometimes I stumble and sway. But that doesn't matter as long as I walk away from the island. Into the darkness. I'm tired. And cold, very cold. My uncle made me wear my prettiest jacket, which is thin and not made for winter. I'm shivering. Tired. Sleepy. I turn around. The island has disappeared. I must have walked for a while. Maybe I should sit down? Just for a moment, just a little break.

  The ice is not as cold as I thought it would be. It's actually quite warm, and soft. Comfy. I stretch my legs and watch my breath turn into clouds. Soft, cute little clouds. If I breathe quickly, I can make lots of little mini clouds. Cloudlings. Who knew breathing could be so much fun.

  Maybe I should move. My uncle could already be looking for me. But the ice is cosy, and I'm sleepy. I don't want to walk. It's exhausting. I've earned a rest. I could make a bed from the snow on top of the ice. Put it all together into a nice soft mattress. Or even better, a sofa. A snow sofa. I giggle. That's even better than making snowmen! I begin to shift snow from as far as my arms can reach into a pile. It's not very much. I'll have to get up to collect more snow. But I'm tired. I should sleep. Maybe I can sleep without a bed? The ice isn't that cold after all. All my life I thought that ice was freezing. But it isn't. Maybe it's special ice? Just for me. I smile at the foggy sky and thank the snow gods for their kindness.

  Noises disturb me before I can fall asleep. Shouts in the distance. Barking - are those dogs? I need to leave. I stumble to my feet and start to walk. Well, more like stagger. My legs don't move like they're supposed to. They're hard; it feels like I'm walking on stilts. One foot in front of the other.

  Now that I'm walking, I'm no longer warm. In fact, I'm freezing. I touch my cheeks with my fingers, but don't know what's colder, my skin or my hands. Everything is cold. Thinking is beginning to hurt. The fog is getting thicker again, and I'm not sure I'm going in the right direction. Am I still moving away from the island? Or am I walking in circles, like people lost in the desert? I can't see stars to guide me. It's just me, a lone figure covered in snow and fog.

  Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have stayed. But then I remember Marcus' foul breath and don't regret a thing. Better frozen to death than being alive, chained to that horrid man. I have no doubt that my uncle would consider chaining me to Marcus, if he knew I was planning to run away. If he caught me now, I would never be free again. He doesn't care about his niece like an uncle should. I'm just a commodity that he can trade as he wishes. All those meals I cooked for him... now I wish I had added some nightshade to them. A sweet, painful death.

  The noises behind me have stopped, but I drag on. I’ve lost all feeling in my face, and my eyelids are threatening to freeze shut. Frozen tears stick to my cheeks. I'm not sure how much longer I can walk.

  The sky is getting brighter. Is that just the fog lifting or is daylight finally arriving? My legs are continuing to walk, while my mind is drifting. If I die now, will the sea swallow me once the ice melts? Will I sink to the ocean floor and slowly decompose? Will fish eat my flesh?

  The fog is clearing. There's something in the distance. Land.

  There are cracks in the ice, shaped like lightning. They are everywhere. I look down and they are getting bigger. Water is pouring through them, melting the snow covering the ice. There's something beneath the ice. I bend forward, blinking to get the ice from my lashes. A face... I stare at my own drowning self. The ice cracks and I'm falling, falling into the depths, and - there is no water. I'm kneeling on the ice. No cracks. I must be going crazy.

  I'm crawling. Not much further.

  Land.

  Somehow in my stupor, I know that I can't lie down in the snow. I find a fallen tree. Bed. I collapse on it and surrender to the whiteness of winter.

  Two

  I'm no longer cold. In fact, I'm nice and toasty. A little sore, but I’m alive.

  Something soft is wrapped around me and heat is warming my face. I blink my eyes open. Orange and red burst through my vision. A fire is sitting in the middle of - where am I? I try to sit up, only to notice that I can't move. Trapped! I panic. In my muddled state of mind, it takes me a minute to think of looking down at myself. I sigh in relief. I'm wrapped in furs, lots of them. I really rock the caterpillar look. I try and squeeze one arm out of the fur burrito, then the other, until I can finally sit up. I'm lying in the middle of a wooden room - wooden ceilings, wooden walls, a wooden floor, wooden shelves and furniture. It even smells of wood. Everything is brown and rustic, in a charming way. In the middle of the room is a fire pit. A little dangerous to have an open fire in a house made from wood, if you ask me. But it's warm, so I don't care. After last night, all I care about is no longer being cold.

  I extract myself from the rest of the furs - and notice I'm in my underwear. Nothing but my underwear. Whoever put me in this cabin must have undressed me. I hope it was a girl. Really, really hope. No man has ever seen me naked. It's not proper. I frantically look around the cabin for something to cover myself in - something that isn't furs. As warm as they are, I'm already getting sweaty from the heat. Behind the fireplace is a large
window (with a wooden frame, of course), looking out into a snowy landscape. The house seems to be at the edge of a forest. There aren’t many forested islands; I’ve never seen that many trees in one place.

  Icicles hang outside the glass, beautiful and deadly. I once treated a patient who was hit on the head by an icicle, and have had a healthy respect for them ever since. To my left is a table and matching chairs, seemingly made from hand. And there, on the table, are my clothes, neatly folded. I've never been so happy in all my life to see clothes. They're nothing special, but they cover.

  After I've put them on, I continue my exploration. There are two doors opposite each other. One of them must lead outside, judging from the mud splatters on the floor in front of it. I have no desire to go out into the cold again, so I decide to investigate the rest of the house. The other door leads to a small kitchen - if you can call a camping stove, a wobbly cupboard and a few plates stacked on the floor a kitchen. Let's call it a cooking room. Much better.

  There's a ladder leading up through a hole in the ceiling. Is that an attic?

  A screetch signals the opening of the front door.

  "Hello?" a male voice calls. "Shit, where–"

  A guy comes into the room. Oh my. He's gorgeous. His blond hair falls down to the thick lashes circling his pale blue eyes, his jaw has just the right angles, and his beautiful, full lips are saying - "There you are! I was worried you may have gone outside. It's cold out there, and you could have easily got lost. I almost got lost when we first got here, no paths, you see?"