Arrival of Winter: (Reverse Harem Serial) (Winter Princess Book 5)

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Arrival of Winter: (Reverse Harem Serial) (Winter Princess Book 5) Page 4

by Skye MacKinnon


  The knife.

  "Stop!" I shout and everybody turns to me, startled. I hope I have this right. Otherwise this might end badly.

  "What are ye doing?" Arc whispers but I shake my head. No distractions.

  "Hold him tight," I command, surprised at the authority in my voice. The guards securing the prisoner give me a sharp nod and tighten their grip. Wow, apparently they really do see me as their princess.

  Please work, I whisper to myself as I close my eyes and delve down into my body, searching for my magic. The cave is still there, the boulders still barring the entrance. Now that I know for sure that my magic is remaining locked inside, guarding an evil demon force, I feel even worse for her. Not only is she alone, she's also fighting a solitary battle. Not anymore.

  "Oi!" I call out to her, hoping she'll hear me through the wall of stone. "I need you!"

  I can almost imagine her laughing bitterly. She knows she can't get out without the dark magic escaping. But that's what I'm counting on.

  "Don't be scared, we'll be able to release that demon energy!" I shout. "But I need you now, my mother is dying. Come out, help me!"

  A low rumble makes me perk up. Is it working?

  "Please, magic! Please!" I'm begging her. If my Guardians could see me now, shouting at a stone wall. But I know she's in there.

  And finally, a rock falls to the ground. Granted, it's a tiny one, more like a pebble, but it's a start. More rocks follow, pushed off the top of the boulder wall by an unseen force. My magic is fighting. Good.

  Finally, there's a hole large enough to let me in - or my magic out.

  A meow is all the warning I get, then she's jumping through the air, claws barred, fur ruffled. She's followed by a blob. That's the only word that fits. A black, gooey mass that shifts its shape faster than I can see. I almost dry heave at its sight. It's like someone has distilled nightmares, then mixed it up with despair and a good sprinkling of evil. And it's hunting my magic.

  I stretch out my arms and catch her just as she nears the ground. Her claws scratch my arms, but I don't care. I've got her back. My magic. In my arms. Aww.

  We run, closely followed by the blob. It's hurting my insides as it pursues us through my body. We need to get to the surface before it catches up with us. I need to get it outside.

  My magic whimpers, but there's no time to soothe, no time to reassure her.

  "I need your power," I pant while running. "I need to get that thing out of me and into the vessel." I'm trying not to think of the 'vessel' as a living, breathing man. He tried to kill my mother. He made his choice. He's earned his fate.

  With a soft meow, my magic gives her permission. Power floods me, curses through me with an intensity I've not felt before. Maybe this is what an addict feels getting their first fix after going cold turkey for a while.

  I open my eyes. Everything is brighter, more vibrant than before. I can see magic again, swirling around the people in the room. They are all Guardians; they all have their own kinds of magic. And in their midst, the assassin. The guards are still holding him tight, ignoring his weak struggles.

  I feel the blob burning through my insides. My knees are going weak. It's time.

  I reach out and grab it, fighting to keep it in my grasp. It's slippery and burns as I touch it, and I can't help but scream as I try to pull it out of me. It's holding on, grasping for halt as I squeeze it tightly. Damn, that thing is strong.

  I pour all my energy into my grip on it, willing it to stop fighting. No such luck. It's thrashing and firing burning missiles at me. As my vision goes and I can feel my body sink to the floor, something new enters me. A new energy. No, four. Four strands of cooling magic join my own, wrapping themselves around the blob. Finally, its struggle is getting weaker. Pushing against its resistance, I draw the dark energy out of myself and into the open. I can feel myself losing consciousness; I need to be quick. I push the blob towards the struggling man, careful to keep it contained. I don't even want to know what it could do if it was to be set free. Only a tiny bit further... I stuff the blob into the assassin's mouth and into his centre. He fights me, but he's too weak. The blob wants to stay there, it's no longer trying to resist. It wants a new host, and it doesn't care who that is.

  Finally, I release my grip on it and retreat. As soon as I let go, a wave of energy pushes into me, giving me the strength to open my eyes again. The man's face has turned grey, his eyes black. Dark veins are appearing on his skin, making him look something like a zombie.

  "Kill him," I whisper to the guards, assuming that they will carry out my command. Sitting up, I turn around, towards my mother. This isn't over yet.

  "Help me up," I say to no one in particular, and someone's arms lift me gently until I'm standing on my own two feet. Well, almost. I'd be back on the ground if they didn't still support me.

  My mother is looking even worse. Her face has aged, her cheeks are bony, her forehead full of wrinkles that haven't been there before. Earlier today, she looked not much older than me. Now, she's aging quickly. I don't want to look. This is not the perfect, unchanging mother I've known all my life.

  I sink onto the bed next to her frail body, and place my hands on her chest.

  "Are you sure you can do this?" Crispin asks softly. I look into his beautiful blue eyes and wordlessly, he nods. He's seen my determination. We're going to do this.

  "Use your hands to pull out the knife, while siphoning its magic into it at the same time. All of the summer magic needs to be inside the knife by the time it leaves her body. I'm going to keep her stabilised at the same time." He looks to someone behind me. "Arc, she'll need your powers."

  I don't question why it has to be Arc and not one of the twins, but accept that Crispin knows his stuff.

  Let's do this.

  Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes again and focus on my magic. She's in her cave, sleeping from exhaustion - the cave is still partly blocked, but the entrance is large enough to let me in. I kneel by her side and gently stroke her fur.

  "I need you one more time, little one. Then you can sleep," I whisper, scratching her between her ears. As she wakes, she gives me an indignant scowl. "Sorry," I mumble, but then I remember that I have a very valid reason for demanding more of her. It's my mother, after all.

  I take my magic out of the cave and put her on the floor. She stretches before finally giving me access to her energy.

  Okay, let's just pretend this is going to be easy. I extend my senses until I can feel the knife in my mother's body. It's a pulsating, ugly wound that is seeping black stuff into her while at the same time drawing out her life force. Like a mosquito that takes your blood while injecting something back that makes you itchy. But in this case, it's deadly.

  I follow the black matter through my mother's body. It's everywhere. It's not yet reached all the cells, but it's flooding her veins and has surrounded her heart. It won't beat much longer. How the hell am I supposed to get rid of this stuff?

  I decide to go back to its source: the knife. Maybe I can use it as a sort of anchor. I grip the knife tightly with my magic and begin to pull. My hands are still on my mother's chest, so the knife will stay in position - it's only the magic I'm working on right now.

  Like sucking on a straw, I'm drawing the black magic out of her body. It's a slow process, and a sickening one. With every pull, I feel a tiny bit seeping into me. My magic is moving around frantically, trying to wade off the invading force, but I ignore her for now. It's not much more.

  When I can no longer find black magic to suck out, I finally move my hands to grip the knife. It's cold and burning hot at the same time. I can feel blisters forming on my skin and I’m tempted to let go of it, but I can’t. I have to do this. This will be worth the pain. I hope.

  Steeling my mind and my body, I pull, holding the magic tight, not letting it flow out of the knife again. Then I remember I should have probably told Crispin before I started. I don't have the energy to speak, so I pull on the bond linking m
e to him. I know it'll be uncomfortable for him, but he'll understand. Hopefully.

  The dark magic is struggling against my grip, and now that I not only have to control my magic, but also my muscles holding the knife, I'm struggling. I spent too much energy earlier; there's almost none left. And at the same time, I feel some of the knife's magic seep into me. I'm pretty sure I'm going to regret this whole thing. I mean, that's what got me into this mess, overestimating my powers.

  Then, the knife is out. I'm shaking all over, and it falls onto the bed, narrowly missing my mother. I hope Crispin is looking after her, because I can't.

  I let myself fall, sinking into unconsciousness.

  ***

  "Wyn," someone whispers. "Time to get up, little Princess."

  I wince. It's too loud, despite the whispering. Do they have sledgehammers in the Realms? Because that's what it feels like. Ouch. My head.

  "Let her sleep," another voice says, not even trying to be quiet. I want to kill them, slowly. But that would be too much work, I'd actually have to open my eyes. No, better go back to sleep. I was dreaming of something nice, something involving lots of limbs and... other body parts.

  "But I'm bored," the first voice whines. Oh, well. They asked for it. I reach for my magic and pull a few strands out, wrapping them around my target.

  "What's wron-", I don't let the other one finish and give them the same magic treatment. There, now I can sleep.

  ***

  "Wyn, wake up. You need to release your magic from these idiots. The Commander wants to talk to them and they can't speak."

  I stretch, waking from a restful sleep. It takes me a moment to remember. Oh yes, I took their voices. Crispin and Arc. Not my fault, they didn't let me sleep.

  I open my eyes and smile at the Guardians sitting around my bed. They stare at me.

  "What's up boys?" I ask cheerily, but the effect is somewhat ruined by my hoarse voice. Frost conjures some water into the empty glass next to me and I drink it greedily.

  Arc gets up, gesticulating wildly. I pretend not to understand him.

  "Crispin, would you mind telling me what he's trying to say?" My voice is sweet as honey. Frost is holding onto his chair, fighting to suppress his laugh, and even Storm is trying to hide a smile.

  Crispin gives me the finger. Yes. Crispin. The sweet healer. Gives. Me. The. Finger. He's never going to speak again.

  "Princess, we need to get going," Storm chuckles. "We stayed as long as we could, but the Commander wants a report. Crispin says your vitals are back to normal, and-"

  "Crispin says?" I interrupt, causing Frost to fall into another laughing fit.

  "He wrote it down, actually," Storm explains, his mask slowly taking over his face again. Damn, I like it when he smiles. " I didn't think I'd ever ask this, but please let them talk again."

  I sigh dramatically and remove the magic around Arc's vocal chords. In response, he starts humming. Yes, why not. I ignore him and turn to Crispin, who's looking at me stone-faced. He's pissed, no doubt about that.

  "What do I get for letting you speak again?"

  He doesn't reply but I didn't expect him to.

  "A kiss, perhaps?"

  I know that's evil of me. But I need to feel his lips on mine or this bond is going to drive me crazy. It's become a lot less aggravating with the other three since... the rainbow, but with Crispin, I still want to rip his clothes off whenever I see him. Maybe a kiss will make it better.

  He looks at me, his eyes blue and sad. Then he walks out of the room, leaving me in shock. What have I done! This wasn't right. Ashamed, I remove the magic binding his voice, and curl up in bed.

  Epilogue: Beira

  She's grown up so much since last I saw her. She's no longer the skinny little girl trying to show me her world. Now she's a woman and I've brought her into my own. But is she ready for what I will ask of her?

  Wyn is sitting on a chair by my bed, looking uncomfortable. She still doesn't know what to think of me. I don't blame her. I've treated her like a stranger for all her life. I wish she knew that it was all just an act. That I didn't have a choice to give her away, to stay distant, to not show my true feelings. That I always had people watching her, making sure she was safe.

  But she saved me, and that must mean that all is not lost between us. Maybe with time, we could become closer, like a real mother and daughter. But time is something that we don't have.

  This wasn't the first assassin Angus sent, nor will it be the last. It's what I expect him to do it, it's in our nature. He's the Summer King, I'm the Winter Queen. He's the Father of Gods, and I am the mother. But now that he's tried to kill my daughter, he's gone too far. The attack on the ferry was clearly him, and so was the kidnapping before. But not the demons. I don't know why there were demons, and that scares me. Even Angus wouldn't steep so low.

  I'm not sure how much to tell Wyn. She doesn't know anything about this world, and it's my fault. At least she's got her Guardians. That's one thing I did right, at least. They will keep her safe when I'm no longer here.

  Because my time is running out.

  About the author

  Don't worry, this isn't the end, there will be more Winter Princess! Wyn's story continues in Winter Heiress, coming soon.

  If you want to own all the Winter Princess episodes in one pretty book, take a look at the omnibus edition which is already available to pre-order and will be out on the 21st October.

  To find out about my current and future books, you can subscribe to my newsletter or follow me on social media.

  Newsletter: https://skyemackinnon.com/newsletter.html

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  And here’s the obligatory ‘About Me’:

  Skye MacKinnon tells stories about science for a living - but at night she writes fiction, mainly fantasy. When she's not writing, she's out and about with her camera, or spends time with mythical creatures and the odd vampire living in her kindle.

  Usually, there's tea and cake involved.

  She lives in Scotland with her two overly spoilt house rabbits and a few hundred self-obsessed characters constantly asking her to tell their stories. One day she will. Promise.

  Other books by Skye

  Winter Princess Series

  Call of Winter

  Stones of Winter

  Magic of Winter

  War of Winter

  Arrival of Winter

  Ruined Heart Series

  Heart of Time (fantasy RH)

  Stand-alones

  A little crazy (YA)

  Anthologies

  Highland Butterflies - United in Love (FF romance)

  Streets of Winter - Snow and Seduction (contemporary RH; 21st November)

  Partridge in the P.E.A.R - 12 Days of Christmas (Sci-fi RH; 20th November)

  Alone - Unusual Fairy Tales (Sci-fi RH; January)

  Mother of Gods: A Winter Princess Prequel - Unusual Myths (January)

  Heart of Time

  Read on for a short sample of Heart of Time, my new fantasy novel which is now available at all major retailers.

  No one knew where the girl had come from. She was found on the road, half-starved, cloaked in dirt, unable to utter a single word. There was only one other person who knew the story, and she didn’t speak of it until much later, when the events that would change the land forever began to unfold. This is the tale that was forgotten, as it is still told in the story houses of Allembach:

  Once upon a time, there was a mother and her child, who loved each other dearly. They lived together in a small cottage in the rolling green hills of a faraway land, surrounded by sheep, whose wool was the means of the small family’s survival. One day, the mother fell gravely ill, and had to lie in bed for months and months. The child, not yet a woman, but strong
and healthy, tended to her mother in the most caring way, but there was little change in the woman’s condition. Time passed, and the cottage grew dusty and unclean, for the girl did not have the strength to care for both her mother and the little farm. The sheep were no longer sheared, and there was no money left to spend for food. The girl knew that they needed medicine to cure her mother, but they had neither the coin nor the means to get it. So they lived together in the cottage, which slowly fell apart, and the hills behind it no longer seemed green, but dark and unfriendly.

  One day, the girl went to the market to buy food with her last few coins. She was half-starved, having given all the food she could spare to her sick mother. But at the market they laughed at her, and told her she did not have enough money to buy anything. So she walked home, with hanging shoulders, thinking that now she must surely starve.

  On the road she met a man, whose face was hidden under the hood of his long, black cloak. He asked her for the way into the village, and because she was a dear and friendly girl, she told him without hesitation. He thanked her, and asked her if he could do something in return. At first, she shook her head, but the man persisted, until she told him of her sick mother and the empty coinbox. The man seemed to think, and said: “I know of a remedy that would cure your mother fully, and I have it here, in my pocket.” With that, he pulled a small vial from his cloak, and held it high up into the sun. The girl was overjoyed, and wanted to reach for the vial when the man put it back into his pocket and asked what she was prepared to pay for it, as giving directions into the village was not nearly enough for such a powerful remedy. The girl thought hard, but could not come up with anything valuable she or her mother possessed. When she told the man, he laughed, and said: “You have something that is worth more to me than any coin you could ever have in your pouch.” Without thinking, the girl cried that he could have it, anything, if he would only give her the vial of medicine. But then he grabbed her, and stretched a clawed hand towards her chest. He sank his hand into her flesh and pulled out her beating heart, dripping with blood. “This is what I want as a payment, your heart, all loving and fresh and innocent. You will not die, little girl, for I do not want you to. You will live, your mother will be cured, but I have your heart. If we meet again, tell me if it was worth it.” And with a chuckle, he walked off, leaving the girl kneeing in the middle of the road, clutching her chest.

 

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