Crispin isn’t in his room, nor in my mother’s, nor in the hospital wing.

I follow the bond that connects me to him, using it like a compass. It leads me upwards, high up one of the towers. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this one.

The magic stairs transport me to the top faster than I could ever run up the steps. It also has the advantage that I’m not out of breath at all when I reach the top floor.

A curious sight awaits me. It looks like someone took a garden pavilion and transported it on top of a tower. Delicate columns are holding up a circular roof which is protecting a simple iron-wrought bench from the elements. Who had the idea of putting a bench on a tower? I wouldn’t be surprised if it gets blown away by the next storm.

“Sit with me,” a quiet voice says. Crispin. He’s not on the bench and it takes me a moment to spot him. He’s leaning against one of the pillars, his legs dangling down the side of the tower. One wrong move and he’d be falling. Is he feeling that depressed? No, he has wings, he’d just fly away. Still… I’m worried about him.

Carefully, I take a seat next to him, staying a bit further away from the edge.

“How are you?” I ask gently, but he doesn’t respond. I’m tempted to reach out and put an arm around his shoulders, but I resist the temptation.

This is so awkward. It took me a long time to get Crispin to open up, and now it seems all that was for nothing. He’s pulled up all his barriers again, and it’s my fault.

I almost killed him.

I told him to write down what happened to him when he was a prisoner of the Morrigan. I made him go through that all again.

I didn’t listen to him when he told me to stay away from Blaze’s sparklies.

I made him open his heart to me, and then I crushed it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I’m saying that far too late, but I’m really, really sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. I fold my hands, pressing my fingernails into my palms. That pain is only an echo of what’s going on in my chest though. Crispin’s silence is slicing through my heart, cutting me into little pieces. And I deserve it. I did the same to him.

“I hope you ignored what I told you to do back when… when the messenger came…”

“No,” he says quietly, almost inaudible. “I wrote it all down and gave it to Tamara. It was necessary, you were right.”

“No, I wasn’t. You weren’t ready, I was…”

“It’s not all about you!” he suddenly shouts. “You don’t get to decide when I’m ready. You don’t get to apologise for something that isn’t your fault!”

He still isn’t looking at me, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at him in confusion. What is he trying to say? That I’m self-obsessed? Selfish? Not caring about others? Whatever it is, it hurts.

Questions are running through my mind, but I’m too scared of his reaction to ask them. I don’t want to hurt him even more. I’ve done enough already.

“You’ll hate me,” he mutters into the silence. “When you read it, you’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Crispin,” I whisper, still fighting against the urge to touch him. “I saw how she made you do things, you showed me.”

“I didn’t show you everything,” he says bitterly. “You didn’t see the worst of it. I don’t deserve to be here. I should be rotting in a dungeon below the Palace, not sitting at the top of a tower with the heiress to the Winter throne.”

He’s confusing me. So he’s not actually angry at me for cracking his skull? He’s been avoiding me because he’s drowning in self-doubt? I didn’t expect that.

“Well, then I should be in the dungeon with you for attempted murder,” I say, trying to make my voice jovial and light.

He doesn’t smile though. “That was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Ehm, no, it couldn’t. How many Demigoddesses with weird powers do you know who’ve been addicted to unicorn sparklies?”

This time, his lips twitch a little. “True, you’re unique. Do you still feel the urge to seek out Blaze?”

He’s switched to his healer persona, but I’m letting him do that if it makes things easier for him.

“No, being in the Library cured that.”

Finally, he turns to me with a look of curiosity.

“You went to the Library of Lives again?”

Of course, I forgot he wasn’t there when I told the other three.

“Yes, but it was different this time.” I give him a quick roundup of what happened, how I got to see my mother’s book, how I decided to come back to this life.

“Do you think the Morrigan has a book there?” I suddenly ask when I’ve finished my tale.

“Yes, everybody has.”

“Could we look at it? See what her plans are? Learn more about her past, perhaps, find something that will help us predict how she’ll act?”

“It’s a good idea, but the Library is a neutral place.” Crispin sighs. “In times of war, neither party are allowed to look at the books of people on the other side. We wouldn’t even be able to read one of her soldiers’ books. It’s frustrating, but it makes sense. Otherwise, the Library would become a target.”

Pity. Just when I thought I’d found a new way to fight the Morrigan, it turns out other people have thought of that before. Figures. I’m new to all this, I’m not going to reinvent the wheel.

“I’m glad you came back,” he says, as if that had ever been in question.

“Of course. I have things to do. And people I love.”

I put a lot of emphasis on that last word, to make sure he knows that he’s included in that.

And to be even more thorough, I finally put an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. I’ve missed his touch, his scent.

“You should read what I gave Tamara,” he says though and gently moves out of my embrace. “Come find me after if you still want to talk to me.”

He gets up and jumps off the tower.

Moments later, he reappears, his golden wings fully unfolded, glistening in the sunlight. He does a loop and then disappears out of sight, leaving me with an empty feeling deep within my heart.

“You don’t have to read this,” Tamara tells me with a worried frown. “I’ve started making notes of the most important points and will present them at tomorrow’s Council meeting.”

I shake my head. “No, I need to do this. I’ve already seen Crispin’s memories. How much worse can reading this be?”

With a gentle nod, she leaves me to it.

It turns out, a lot worse.

It’s as if his voice is speaking in my head, telling me of all the suffering he went through. I can’t switch off this inner monologue, and it makes it even more heartbreaking.

He killed children.

He tortured people for weeks.

He assassinated dozens of Guardians.

And worst of all, he slept with the Morrigan.

That’s what finally makes my tears flow, after holding them back for a long time.

The Morrigan forced herself on him. It’s clear from his words that he didn’t want it. He doesn’t say it, but I know that it was rape. She had him under her control and she took advantage of him.

When I’ve finished reading, I stumble off the chair and sit down on the floor in a corner. I need to think. I somehow need to work through this. There are so many emotions fighting in my chest, and I’m feeling bad because if this is how strong my reaction is to this, how much worse did Crispin feel while writing it all down?

I forced him to. He followed my commands, just like he was expected to.

I made him relive all the torture and violence, both what he received and what he did to others. I can’t imagine him doing any of these things though. He was another person back then. Someone created to do terrible deeds. What’s important is that he managed to fight it all and become a good person. Someone walking in the light, not in the dark the Morrigan created him in.

“Wyn?”

Frost enters the room and looks at me strangely when he notices me sitting in a corner.

“What’s wrong? I felt your distress.”

Did I accidentally use the bond? Or is this a new development?

“Crispin,” I say simply and hold up the bunch of papers I’ve been reading.

“Oh. We told him not to write it. He knew that you weren’t yourself when you ordered him to. But he said he wanted to do it anyway. There was no stopping him.”

He sits down by my side and pulls me close. I melt into his touch, enjoying the warmth and comfort he’s immediately giving me.

“Do you want me to read it so we can talk about it?” he asks but I shake my head.

“No, I don’t think he would want that. I know why he wrote it, there is a lot of information in there that will help us. Tamara is going to compile a report by tomorrow. But her and I should be the only people reading it.”

“Alright, but you know I’ll be here if you want to talk about it.”

I smile at him and cuddle against him. “I know. Thanks for being here.”

His sea breeze scent slowly pulls me out of the dark feelings hammering in my chest.

“Do you want to kiss?” he asks.

“That’s a very strange thing to ask. Are we back at primary school?”

He laughs. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted that right now. I don’t want to intrude.”

I know what he means. I’m feeling bad about Crispin, and maybe I shouldn’t be making out with another Guardian. But I need some time to think everything through before I talk to Crispin again. He might still be flying anyway.

“Kiss me, you silly Guardian.”

“Of course, my Princess,” he says in mock reverence, and cups my cheeks, pulling me close. When his lips touch mine, I focus on it with all I can, pushing back the memories of what I just read, at least for a while. I’m going to deal with them later.

For now, I need to heal, so I can heal Crispin.

Frost is gentle, so different from his brother. His kiss is soft and loving, sweet and slow. It’s just what I need in this moment. He makes me feel good.

He removes one hand from my cheek and wraps it around my waist, readjusting my position until I’m sitting on his lap. Something hard is pressing against me from below and I smile against his kiss, knowing that this won’t stay tame.

I concentrate for a moment, focussing on the door. With a click, it locks, and I know that a yellow shine will be showing around it. My mum told me that trick – now, nobody will be able to enter or listen in. Privacy is important in a Palace full of gossiping servants and courtiers.

Satisfied that we’re going to be undisturbed, I slip my hands under his shirt and pull it up, breaking the kiss so he can take it off. I stare at his smooth, chiselled chest. He’s been training a lot recently, and it’s made his muscles even more defined. I run my hands over his abs, enjoying the feel of it. He’s gorgeous, inside out.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, his voice suddenly reminding me a lot of his brother’s. It makes me shudder in anticipation.

I pull my shirt over my head and he sucks in a breath. My seamstress made me several sets of lingerie, and I’m wearing my new favourite bra, made of a fabric that’s something of a mix between satin and lace. It’s delicate but strong enough to hold my breasts in the perfect position.

I have to get up to get out of my shoes and my black linen trousers. His gaze heats when he sees my matching panties. They don’t leave a lot to the imagination.

“Stay like that,” he tells me when I’ve stepped out of my trousers. He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer. He nudges me to spread my legs a little, giving him the perfect view. I shiver at the intensity of his gaze.

When his tongue touches my skin, I gasp. He licks at the spot just below my belly button, then slowly going down, grazing his teeth over the fabric of my panties. Why didn’t he take them off? Why didn’t I take them off?

He’s such a tease.

His hands are wandering to my arse, squeezing at the same time as his tongue reaches that most special spot. Despite the fabric, his touch is electrifying, making me quiver as he begins to suck on my bud. Goosebumps are racing up my body and I tangle my hands in his hair, pressing him harder against my skin, encouraging him to suck harder.

He chuckles and begins to flick his tongue back and forth, giving me new waves of pleasure. My breath is getting faster. He knows exactly how to touch me; he’s playing me like an instrument. His hands are massaging my cheeks, one finger precariously edging closer to my entrance.

I’m shaking. I won’t last for much longer.

His finger draws little circles, teasing me, making me moan loudly.

His tongue is getting faster and faster, before he suddenly sucks in hard at the same time as entering me with his finger. I come apart, screaming and quivering. His other hand is on the small of my back, steadying me as I ride the waves of that most amazing orgasm.

With one final flick of his tongue, he leans back, looking at the soaked fabric of my panties.

I sink to my knees, falling into his arms. He holds me gently while my breath slowly returns to normal. How did he manage this with me still being half dressed?

He runs his fingers over my bare arms, caressing my skin. His touch is so full of love that I can’t help but turn around and kiss him again, more passionate this time. I nudge his lips with my tongue until he opens his mouth, allowing me to enter. I soak in his taste, that sea salt scent, the feeling of the ocean. My magic is purring loudly in my chest, but I try and ignore her.

When I break the kiss, both of us are flushed and breathing heavily.

“Your turn,” I whisper. “Take off your jeans. And whatever you’re wearing underneath. If you’re wearing something.”

He gives me a suggestive wink and does as I asked. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s not wearing anything beneath his trousers. That seems to be a recurring theme with my men. They all seem to have an aversion to underwear.

His cock is hard, unsurprisingly.

“Sit down.”

Again, he follows my command and sits by my side, his cock pointing up, ready for attention. I smile and lean down, pressing a gentle kiss on his tip. His skin is soft and warm, and even here, he has that sea salt taste.

I take him into my mouth, slowly, teasingly. He groans as I touch him with my tongue, before taking him in deeper. He’s not as thick as his brother, but longer, I think. They’re not twins in every place, apparently.

I wrap a hand around his balls, admiring once again the softness of his skin.

He groans at my touch. Just the encouragement I needed.

I move up and down on his cock, occasionally stopping to kiss the top. Pearls of moisture are collecting there and I lick them away.

“Wyn, you better stop,” he warns me and I grin.

“Why would I do that?”

“I want to come inside you, not like this.”

“Why not both?” I counter, surprising myself. I swallowed once before, with a boyfriend who I didn’t actually like that much, and I hated it. But for some reason, I think that it would be different with Frost. He’s my Guardian, he’s so much more than a boyfriend. He’s bonded to me, and his body is already bound to mine.

A knock on the door makes both of us jump a little.

“Your Highness, there’s a messenger!”

I sigh in frustration, before removing the wards around the door so they can hear my answer.

“I’ll be in the throne room in ten minutes!” I shout and immediately put the yellow glow back.

“Seems like you get your wish,” I mutter to Frost and change my position, climbing on top of him until his cock is touching my entrance. “No time for more.”

He laughs. “We can always continue once you’ve dealt with that messenger.”

With that, he pushes up his hips and enters me in one long thrust.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he whispers as his thrusts are becoming quicker. “Just you and me, none of the others.”

I put my hands on his chest and lower my pelvis, giving him even more access. He takes my breasts in his hands, massaging them gently.

“You should have said something,” I reply, but it comes out as a moan as he suddenly pulls on my nipples.

“I knew I’d get my chance,” he chuckles. “Now, do that scream again, the one with the moans and the shudders.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Not at all. Scream for me, Princess. Show me how much you like it.”

His hands leave my breasts and he grips my hips, pushing me down harder on his cock as he increases his rhythm even more. I’m close to the edge and let go of all that’s holding me back. Just like he wanted, I moan loudly, not caring how porn-like that sounds.

One more thrust and I’m pushed over the edge, contracting around him as I arch my back and scream in pleasure.

Moments later, he pushes in hard and shudders, before coming himself with a groan. He doesn’t stop though, pounding again and again until I ride yet another wave of ecstasy, coming apart in his arms.