Page 5 of Winter Princess
"The ice was one, the fire another. Did anything else happen before that?"
"Oh yes, she destroyed her kitchen. Made things fly."
"Air, fire, ice. Shouldn't be many more then."
What? More of this stuff is going to happen to me? I can't go through this, not again. I'm exhausted and fainting once was enough. I just want to go back to bed, forget about all this and be normal. Not human normal, I'll never be that. Demi-god normal.
When I'm all warm again, the mild air around me disappears. I open my eyes. The four men are standing in a row, watching me. One of them, with long black hair and a black cloak - yes, a wizard kind of cloak - is lowering his arms. He's looking exhausted. Tendrils of magic are slowly pulling back into his hands, taking the warmth of the air with them.
Not every mage can see magic; in fact, I only know of two others.
I give him a small smile. "Thank you."
He nods and gives me a small bow. Not a smile though.
"Storm. At your service."
"Storm? Is that your name?" I ask, a little confused.
"Yes, is something wrong with that? Your name is Wynter, isn't it?" He gives me an annoyed look. Oops, I upset the guy who just helped me.
"Yeah," I mutter. Don't remind me. I know every Wynter-winter joke there is. "Sorry."
"He's playing with you, lass," the largest of them laughs. He must have giant blood in him. His hair is as ginger as it gets, and he is wearing - please believe me - a kilt. I mean, yes, I live in Scotland and people here wear kilts occasionally, but that's at weddings or festivals, and not in everyday life. A beautiful white sporran is hanging right over where his - anyways, he looks like a Scottish caricature. Except better looking. A lot better looking.
"I'm Arc. And over there are Frost and Crispin." He points to the other two guys who've been quiet so far. One of them is the blond man with the blue eyes. The other, Frost, is the spitting image of Storm: black hair that falls to his shoulders, dark brown eyes, tall. Kudos to the parents who named their twin sons Storm and Frost.
"Hello," Frost says, smiling at me. While his brother is gorgeous and serious, he's gorgeous and friendly. Dimples are adorning his cheeks. I shoot a quick glance at Storm. Nope, no dimples there. I guess this will be the way to tell them apart. And the fact that Frost is wearing normal clothes, not looking like someone straight out of Hogwarts.
My mother rips me out of my men-admiring thoughts. "Are you alright, sweetie? What happened?" She pushes past the four men and wraps me in her arms. She's a slender woman, but her grip is strong. "When Beira wrote that you were going to-"
"What? She wrote to you?" I interrupt her.
"Yes, a few weeks ago. She-"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Anger is rising up in me and I clench my fists. She knew! She knew and she didn't warn me. I could have prepared, I could have stayed away. I almost hurt her. I almost died. The house was burning. Anger is overtaking me, and suddenly I start shaking. And with me, the ground.
I can see the people around me fighting to stay upright, but I have no such problems. The ground is holding me up, stabilising me, giving me strength, while I do its bidding. It has wanted to move for so long and now it has finally found an outlet. I can feel the pain of the earth where houses are burrowing deep into its skin. They shouldn’t be there. It’s not right.
I raise my arms and gather as much of the earth’s power as I can hold. And then I let it free. The ground shakes violently and deep cuts open up in the tarmac. I only half notice the screaming around me. I am strong, and I need to make things right. I point to one house, and it crumbles like a giant just stepped on it. Its walls collapse and roof tiles cover the rubble like sprinkles on a cake. It feels good. I adjust my stance on the trembling ground and draw more energy into myself. There is so much magic in the earth, so much power. It’s been waiting for a long time for someone to use it. I point my arms to another house and it leans to one side, aching, shivering, until it collapses, burying half the garden under it. I laugh. It looks so pretty.
Something touches me and with a simple flick of my wrist, I repel them. I’m busy, no one will get in my way. Another touch, this time from the other side. Again, I move my hand to make them fly away, but before I can do so, my arms are captured and pressed to my side. The magic I had ready to flow to one side bursts out of me into the ground. This time, I don’t stay on my feet. I fall, hitting my knees on the broken asphalt. Magic is still flowing out of me, shaking the earth. It hurts. The gentle embrace of magic turns into a white-hot stream that uses my body as its conduit. I’m just a tool for it. A channel. It betrayed me. I scream and beat my hands against the ground. With everything I’ve got, I expel all the magic within me.
The ground shakes one last time, then it stills. My vision goes black and I sink backwards, into the warm waiting arms of my guardians.
Chapter 3
“Good morning, princess!”
A cheery voice wakes me. I don’t feel cheery. At all. There’s a drummer in my head who’s decided that my skull makes a lovely drum. Ouch.
“How are you feeling?”
I groan and open my eyes. It’s the blonde guy, with the turquoise-blue eyes. He’s sitting on the side of my very, very comfy bed. It’s so comfy I shouldn’t be allowed to leave it all day. Yes. I can’t leave, I’m sorry. Now let me sleep.
Unfortunately, Crispin has other ideas. “Come on, we need to get going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
I groan again and am very tempted to throw a pillow at him – but that would be too much work. I heave myself up and look around. We’re in a bright, friendly room that looks slightly unlived in – a hotel, most likely. Crispin is already dressed, as immaculate as his hair is messy. I throw back the duvet – and with a shriek, pull it back over my body again. I’m in nothing but my bra and panties.
