I'm not quite sure what happened. One second, I was in the Library, then standing back in my bathroom, lightning whipping all around me, then soft arms around my waist pulled me into darkness.

Now I'm kneeling on the snow-covered ground, my stomach heaving. Teleporting - or however you call what my mother just did - is not agreeing with me. The pool of vomit in front of me is proof of that.

I wipe my mouth and sit up, looking around. People are standing all over the place, talking in small groups, shooting me suspicious glances. We're in the Palace's main courtyard, so big that you can fit the weekly market in here and still have space. Ice sculptures line the paths, depicting a variety of animals. Most of them are ones you can find on Earth, but there are also unicorns, dragons and some I can't identify.

I struggle to my feet, swaying a little. I expended a lot of energy and feel like going back to bed. But first, I need to find my Guardians. I don't recognise most of the people around me. A few of them look vaguely familiar, probably guards or servants. My mother is nowhere to be seen. She must have dropped me here and then disappeared again. I try and convince myself that she had to rescue other people, but maybe she's mad at me. I would be. I'm furious at myself. I should have my magic under control by now.

I turn, looking in the direction of my sleeping quarters. They can't be seen from this part of the Palace, but there's a plume of smoke visible behind some of the turrets. I hope I didn't destroy too much. It was bad enough burning down half of my parents' home, but now, I seem to have progressed to palaces. Am I going to level cities next?

Just when I'd got used to my magic, it's beginning to scare me again. I feel for my heart cave. My magic is curled up, sleeping innocently as if nothing had happened. What a monster. Sometimes she's cute and does what I want, but it doesn't make up for the times she runs amok and almost kills people.

"Wyn!"

I whirl around, just in time to see Frost running towards me, before his arms pull me close and I don't see anything except for the dark blue shirt my face is smothered against. I breathe in deeply, relaxing when his sea breeze scent fills my lungs. It always reminds me of a walk on the beach on a stormy day.

"Wyn," he whispers, hiding his face in the remaining half of my hair. He presses me hard against his body, so much it almost hurts. His hands are running over my back, not gentle, but claiming, as if he's making sure I'm really there. That I'm still his.

"Frost," I say softly, wiggling a little to let him know that he's making it hard to breathe. As much as I like being hugged, crushing my ribcage isn't on my agenda.

"Give me a second to enjoy this," he sighs into my hair, "before you turn back into the Ice Princess."

Is that what he thinks of me? That I'm about to push him away?

Sadly, not long ago he would have been right. Before the Library I would have run away already, not even letting him hug me like this. But I've changed. At least I hope I have.

As much as I would like to give into the illusion that everything will suddenly be fine, I'm too rational for that. Grief and revenge are still fighting for dominance inside of me. I still don't think I can love my men the same way before the Morrigan killed my mother. There's too much darkness all around for that to happen.

Once she's defeated, I'll be able to move on, maybe.

No, I won't. I'll never forget how my mum was taken from me. How I was absolutely powerless, despite all the magic I possess.

Frost presses me even closer, now really threatening to crack my ribs.

"A... little... tight," I wince and he immediately lessens his hold on me.

"Sorry," he mutters, still refusing to let me go. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it out of there... And then when I saw Her Majesty's expression... I thought it was too late."

Finally, I notice that I'm not actually returning the hug. I'm too overwhelmed by his presence, by the memory of the Library still swirling in my mind.

I put my hands around his waist, touching the hard muscles on his back.

"I'm not planning to push you away," I whisper, only then noticing that he never said he'd expected me to do that. But it was probably obvious. I've done nothing else to the guys for days now.

"You're not?"

He grips my shoulders and - ironically - pushes me back, breaking the hug, until he can look at me. His blue eyes are swirling with emotion, the darkness of his irises overshadowing the slight green usually mixing with the blue.

"Do you really mean that?"

I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak. His expression is hard to read; I'm not sure if it's doubt or relief, or something else entirely.

"I need to hear that from you. I'm not sure I can believe it otherwise."

Something inside of me breaks. What did I do for my Guardian to say something like that?

Tears are flooding my eyes, tears I should have cried days ago.

"I won't push you away again," I repeat in a whisper. "And I'm sorry for what I did. I was a heartless bitch."

He chuckles softly. "I agree, but you had every reason to be."

I look over his shoulder, towards the plume of smoke still steadily climbing up into the sky.

"How bad is it?" I ask Frost and he pulls me closer again until my face is pressed against his chest, blocking the view of the destruction I wrought.

"Nobody got hurt. Your mother got them all out in time. I doubt that wing of the Palace will be liveable any time soon, though, unless her Majesty summons all the earth mages to make the repairs. There's only a handful here at the moment, the rest are spread all over the Realm."

"What about Crispin?"

The image of his crumpled, unconscious body flashes in my mind. The trickle of blood on his forehead.

He's alive, my bond is telling me that, and I'm sure Frost would have said something if it was serious.

"He'll be alright. He was awake last time I saw him, although he couldn't remember what happened. The healer is looking after him, don't worry."

I shake my head against his chest.

"Of course I worry. I could have killed him! I should never have lost control that way, I should know better by now. How can I be in charge of this Realm if I can't even protect my own men from myself?!"

I hate how whiny and insecure I sound, and I hate the tears soaking Frost's shirt even more. I need to be strong - not the ice cold Wyn I was until earlier today, but the normal me, the confident, steadfast Wyn. The Wyn who took on an entire demon army.

"Arc has a theory," Frost says slowly. "He thinks the unicorn's sparklies weakened your barriers, made it harder for you to control your magic. In the past few days, you've not used your powers much, and they've built up, pressing against your barriers like a dammed lake until the pressure got too much."

"Fucking sparklies," I grumble, cursing both the unicorn for giving them to me and myself for requesting them in the first place.

Frost laughs drily. "Yes, fucking sparklies. Once Blaze returns, I'm going to unscrew his horn so he'll never be able to give them to you again."

"Do you think he's gone for good?"

"I don't know. He's disappeared before, but usually he comes back when someone needs him. Well, us, really, I don't think he knows many Guardians. Or Princesses."

"How has he helped you?"

Frost grows silent and his breathing quickens slightly. I can hear his heart thump faster and immediately regret asking that question. I have no right to ask him personal questions after what I did. I need to rebuild some bridges first, I think. Figuring out how much damage I did to our relationship will take some time. Especially with Crispin. Gods, I almost killed him. I'd understand if he'll never forgive me for that. Although of course I want him to. He's mine, my Crispy, my Guardian.

The uncomfortable silence between us is broken by a shout.

"Princess!"

Frost lets go of me and I step back. Tamara is running towards us, her skirt bunched up in her hands so she can run faster.

She doesn't say anything until she's reached us, and even then, she only whispers.

"Her Majesty isn't well. You need to come, now."

My mother is lying on her bed, pale and frail looking. She's still in her clothes and boots, as if she didn't have the energy to climb under the covers.

It reminds me of the night when she was almost killed by an assassin using a Summer knife, forged by King Angus. He's the only one strong enough to kill her - or so I thought. Right now, she looks like she's severely ill. On death's door, almost.

"Mother?" I ask carefully, approaching her bed. She opens her eyes, but it seems she's having a hard time keeping them open. Her eyelids are fluttering and her pupils are dilated.

"Wyn," she rasps, her voice nothing like her usual strong, cold alto.

"What happened?" I address Tamara, not wanting my mum to speak.

"She expended too much energy rescuing everyone, and then breaking through the lightning storm to get you out as well." There's no accusation in Tamara's voice, just hard, honest fact. It hurts nonetheless.

"Has a healer been called?" I ask quietly, sitting down on the bed and gently taking my mother's hand. It's cold as always, but her grip is weak.

"There's nothing he can do. She needs time to get her strength back, but now that winter is almost over, it's getting harder for her to use her powers. It could be days, even weeks."

I squeeze my mum's hand tighter. I did this to her. She had to save these people because I put them in danger in the first place.

"Is there nothing I can do? I have magic, can I give her some of it? I'm her daughter, surely we're compatible?"

"This isn't like a blood transfusion," someone says and I whirl around, launching myself at Crispin, clutching him against my chest.

"You're okay!" I half-laugh, half-shout, my emotions all over the place. Then I remember that he might be hurt and quickly step back, checking for injuries. When I can't see any, I use my magic, scanning his body, but it seems that he's fully healed.

"I am," he says tonelessly, and my laughter dies off. He's angry at me. No, not angry, furious. His eyes are blazing, and I take a step back before I can stop myself.

His expression softens slightly before turning all business. He's the healer now, not my Guardian. Not the man I almost killed earlier.

"Your Majesty."

He approaches my mother's bed and takes the hand I was holding before he entered the room. Beira slowly opens her eyes, weakly looking around the room.

"Wyn," she whispers, almost inaudible.

"I'm here," I say quickly before she exhausts herself further, and step around the bed until I'm opposite Crispin.

He's hovering one hand over her stomach, his eyes closed. He must be feeling for injuries or weaknesses. I don't even need to use my own magic to know that my mother isn't injured as such. Her energy is gone almost entirely, and it seems that it has a much bigger effect on her than it would on anyone else. As a Goddess, maybe she's more reliant on magic? Does it keep her alive? Sustain her?

I put my hands on my mother's pale arm, visualising tendrils of magic running from mine into her body. Before I can even send them through her skin, something stops me. An obstacle, a barrier, preventing me from reaching her.

"I told you, it's not like a blood transfusion where you can simply send magic to someone," Crispin repeats, but a lot kinder this time. "It's possible to syphon magic in emergencies, like we did with you during your first flares, but you can't give someone else your own magic. They're incompatible, it would create chaos and even death. She'll have to recover on her own."

"He's right," Beira whispers. "You can't help me in that way, but I need your help for something else. I can't rule like this. I will be bed-bound for weeks."

I stifle a gasp. My mother is the strongest person, being, Goddess, whatever, that I know. She's been a little weaker recently, yes, but for her to stay in her bed for that long... it doesn't make sense. Is that what summer is doing to her?

"Is this normal?" I ask, feeling very naive.

"No," Crispin replies in my mother's stead. "She's always weaker during spring and summer, before getting stronger again in the autumn, but even in the middle of summer, she still has more magic than she seems to have just now."

He clears his throat and quickly adds, "Apologies, Your Majesty, for talking about you like that. You need to save your strength, so it's better if you don't talk too much."

I'm amazed at how brazen he is with Beira. As rebellious as my guys like to seem in private, they all have enormous respect for their Queen, and they usually talk to her with reverence. For Crispin to speak to her like that, he must really be worried that she might expend too much energy on talking with me.

"She used a massive amount of magic to keep the Palace from collapsing while she rescued the people in the wing you were in. Normally, she conserves her magic during spring so that she has some to draw from in the summer. Now, she's left with almost none, and with winter almost gone, it will take longer to regenerate."

The enormity of it all is making me woozy. With Beira this weak, the Realm is virtually defenceless. The Morrigan is meddling in the shadows, Angus is moving his troops for all to see, and demon sightings are becoming a normality. We need Beira to protect us. If we only had one enemy, we might succeed without her, but we have several, and all of them strong.

"Wyn."

I turn to my mother who's looking at me with an echo of her usual piercing glance, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"I need you to take over. I need you to rule."