Destined for Doon (31 page)
“I don’t suppose I could get a diet soda?” I asked, flashing her my best disarming smile.
From thin air, Fiona’s radiant face materialized next to me. “She’ll have ginger wine, if you please. Make that two.”
I angled myself toward my friend. “But I’m not drinking.” Legal or not, Duncan’s recent alcohol-induced shenanigans
reaffirmed my love of sobriety. The last thing I wanted was to make a spectacle of myself.
“Relax. There’s no actual wine in it.” She clasped my arm and turned me around so that I faced the room. “See. Even the bairns like my wee cousin Ewan are drinking it.”
I watched dubiously as four-year-old Ewan took a large swallow from a mug and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Although Doon was a magical, somewhat enlightened place, it was still more medieval than not. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wee bairns here were weaned on ale.
Case in point, at the opposite end of the room people were passing around a three-legged bucket called a cog filled with some mysterious concoction “guaranteed ta put hair on yer chest,” or so it had been explained to me by Mutton Chops. I watched as Duncan waved the communal cog past without the slightest interest. Good — perhaps we would both keep our wits about us tonight.
“Why don’t ye go ask him ta dance?” Fiona asked. Only then did I notice that the music had started back up.
Embarrassed that she’d caught me staring, I stammered something about later. To my great relief the barmaid set two giant mugs next to us. I handed one to Fiona and then raised the other in a toast. “To the new Mrs. Lockhart.”
“Fairshaw-Lockhart,” she corrected, yelling to be heard over the lively tune. “I quite fancy your modern tradition of hyphenating names.” She clinked her mug to mine and took a huge gulp. Following her example, I took a tentative sip of my own drink. It tasted like burnt ginger ale, but without the fizz.
Fiona sighed contentedly. “I do love ginger wine. It brings me back to when I was a young lass. My da would make a batch every Hogmanay.”
“Hog-ma-what?”
Her eyes lit up. “I believe you call it New Year’s Eve. You’re going ta love Hogmanay in Doon. The whole village is lit up with lanterns and we make a procession from the kirk ta the square for the Fire Ceremony. And then Duncan . . .” Her explanation dissolved into giggles. “He has ta — visit — every house in the realm . . . before sun-up.”
“Why?” In order to do what she was suggesting, he’d have to run nearly the entire way.
“It started as a MacCrae brothers wager,” she replied with a snort. “Now it’s tradition. Oh, Mackenna, there are so many wonderful experiences ahead of ye in Doon.”
I considered reminding her that I wasn’t really here because of any Calling, but decided it was better to avoid that conversation — especially with the girl who seemed to possess classified information about one’s destiny. Instead, I nodded toward the groom milling through the crowd, undoubtedly in search of his bride. “Why aren’t
you
dancing?”
Fiona frowned. “I’ve got something in my shoe.”
Without warning she pulled a classic bend and snap. After a moment of digging in her shoe, she shot precariously back up with the offending object pinched between her thumb and index finger.
“Blasted Bawbee!” she complained as she tossed the offending silver piece across the room. It rotated through the tavern in slow motion, striking a middle-aged guy with a beard.
Beardy turned angrily in our direction. His movement jostled a couple of partyers who’d just tipped the cog into the air. The potent punch slopped over the brim of the bucket onto Vee, drenching her bodice. She gasped and at the same instant I recognized Beardy as the ringleader of the mob that attacked us when we first visited Doon.
The room fell silent as Fiona whispered, “Whoops!”
I rushed toward Vee only to be blocked by Duncan who deliberately stepped in my path. As I tried to maneuver around him, he hissed, “Stay back.” His hand clamped onto my arm, forcing me to remain behind him.
I peeked around in time to see Fergus take the cog away from the partygoers.
Fergus handed it off as Jamie stepped between his soaked girlfriend and Beardy. His face was as dark as I’d ever seen it. “Apologize to your queen,” he ordered.
“She’s no’ my queen,” Beardy sneered.
Jamie balled his hand into a fist and reared back. But before he could throw a punch, Vee grabbed his hand in both of hers and said, “Stop!”
He looked at her in rage and confusion as she calmly lowered his fist. “This is between Mr. MacNally and me,” she said quietly. “Give me a chance to handle it before you go all William Wallace.”
Jamie hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping back. “Yes, Yer Highness.”
Vee turned to Beardy and addressed his last comment. “I am sorry you feel that way. Should you change your mind, I am here to support you in any way I can. In the meantime, how about we put away our differences to celebrate this wedding. Would you care to dance, Mr. MacNally?”
Beardy’s eyes narrowed at Vee and then flitted to the three huge guys — Jamie, Fergus, and Duncan — who had her back. Without even another glance in Vee’s direction he stormed out of the tavern followed by a dozen of his cohorts.
Growling something about manners, Jamie started to follow them — until Vee called his name. “Let him go,” she pleaded. “They have a right to their opinions. And I’ll never win them over if my boyfriend beats them into submission.”
Jamie shut his eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh as Vee closed the distance between them. She placed a hand on his bicep and said, “We have an understanding, remember?”
Jamie looked down at her, his fury replaced by remorse. “Sorry, love. Baby steps.”
The fiddlers started back up as the prince pulled his queen flush against him. Seconds later, the bagpipes joined in. Once the royal couple whirled across the floor, I realized Duncan still held my arm in a death grip. Raising up on my tip-toes, I shouted above the music, “You can let go now! The scary beard man is gone.”
After keeping a polite distance all day, Duncan spun around to grip me with both hands. I gaped in shock as he scowled down at me. Was he remembering our last encounter with Beardy and how he’d cradled me to his chest after coming to my rescue? “What were you thinking rushing up like that?”
“I was
thinking
my best friend was in trouble.” I tried to step away, but it was impossible. I wasn’t going anywhere until Duncan MacCrae allowed it, or until I screamed bloody murder . . . which would kind of blow our whole Calling cover story.
A tray of elegant finger food appeared between us held by Mario Rosetti. Duncan released me to pick up something that looked like a mini meat pie and thanked our host. “
Grazie
, Mario.”
“
Di niente
,” Mario trilled in his musical Italian accent. He waited until I selected a sliver of bruschetta. “Soon we will be having a party to celebrate your wedding,
si
?”
“
Certamente
.”
As soon as Mario moved on, I asked, “How did you answer him?”
“I said certainly.” Duncan set his uneaten appetizer on the table and I put mine next to it. “We do have a pretense to keep up.”
He was right. I nodded to indicate I was still on board with the plan and then asked, “Would you like to dance?”
“Maybe later.” He looked about the room. “Have you seen Ana? I’ve been looking for her.”
I felt heat creep up my neck and prickle my cheeks. She’d been gone for hours, and I was starting to worry that something had gone very wrong. Although I was a fantastic actress, I didn’t lie well when I was on the spot, especially to my ex about his new girlfriend. Before I could stammer some excuse, Analisa appeared from thin air with her Cheshire Cat grin.
“You called?” Then, by way of explanation, she shrugged toward the street. “I’ve been outdoors celebrating with that rowdy lot.”
Duncan’s gaze leapt from her to me, and as it did she gave me a sly wink. The smile she’d elicited still lingered in his eyes when he said, “Would you please excuse us, Mackenna?”
Was refusing an option? “Sure.”
Duncan put his hand on the small of Analisa’s back and they disappeared into the crowd. On the far side of the room, Fergus was breaking a piece of shortbread over his new wife’s head. The crowd cheered despite the fact that it crumbled into tiny pieces in her hair. Even Fiona herself was laughing at her “good fortune.”
There were things about Doon I would never understand. Perhaps these were further confirmations that I was not meant to be here — that I didn’t belong.
“This is a celebration. Stop distancing yourself.” Vee’s gentle voice drifted up from my side. “And before you deny it — I saw you hiding at the bar.”
Rather than open myself up to dissection, I decided to change the subject. “Ana’s back. I guess everything went okay.”
“I saw her. But we were talking about
you
. After we destroy the limbus, you should hang out for a while.”
I knew what she was doing. She’d been hinting at every possible opportunity that I should stay in Doon. But the only way that Duncan and I would truly move on is if we never saw each other again. On top of everything else, I couldn’t deal with disappointing her. It was too much, and I snapped, “I’m not staying. Once we kill the zombie fungus, I’m out of here. For good. So you better get used to the idea.”
I hurried outside and pushed my way through the wedding guests clogging the street until I was far away from Rosetti’s Tavern. My stomach felt sick as I contemplated what I’d just done. My second to last night in Doon, and I spent it picking a fight with my best friend.
T
he fact that I lived in a real-life
Once Upon a Time
had never been more apparent. Side by side, our gowns swishing against the cobblestone floors, my BFF and I made our way to the ballroom. And in true fairy-tale fashion, before the night was over we’d enter the evil witch’s domain, wield a consecrated weapon, and, if all went as planned, save the day.
Now, if I could just get my knees to stop trembling.
For an added bit of courage, I tucked a hand in the hidden pocket of my skirt and stroked Queen Lynnette’s pendant. I ran my fingers over the familiar shape of the heart topped with a crown. The queens of Doon had been doing what was best for their people for generations, because the kingdom
was
their heart.
Tonight, I hoped to prove once and for all that I’d been chosen for this role. I touched the ceremonial tiara perched upon my head, and then ran my hands over the layers of ice-blue silk and tulle floating from my corseted waist. The heart-shaped bodice of the gown was shot through with silver thread, and
the skirt scattered with tiny crystals that reflected the flames of each lantern we passed like glints of sun on ocean waves. Fiona had taught me that perception was as important as reality, so I’d given Emily free reign to commission a gown fit for royalty.
“Good thing I insisted we stash a change of clothes. You sparkling like Queen of the Fairies might put a damper on the sneaking part of tonight’s festivities.”
Recognizing a compliment when I heard one, I tugged on one of my elbow-length silk gloves and glanced at my gorgeous friend. “You look pretty epic yourself.” In some lights, the deep blue silk of her gown shimmered into black, creating an illusion of fluidity. The midnight silk was the perfect foil for the spirals of her brilliant hair.
“Why, thank you, my queen.” She winked and lifted her skirts in a mock curtsy.
It was meant as a joke, but I wasn’t her queen. And I never would be. Kenna was just visiting. Passing through on her way to a life without me. And without the boy who’d been Calling to her for most of her life.
Assuming we didn’t die tonight, this might be my last chance to have my say.
As we turned down a deserted back hallway lined with medieval portraits and the occasional kingly bust, I grabbed her hand and pushed her toward a curtained alcove. A place that I was sure had been used for secret assignations and political intrigue for generations.
“Hey! What the — ”
I shoved a strategic elbow into her corseted ribcage, and she stumbled into the tiny room. “Quiet. It’s my turn to talk.” I yanked the drapes closed behind us. The pattern of beads scattered across Kenna’s skirt captured and held light, glowing like stars in the dark chamber.
“I can’t see you, but I can still ring your stubborn little neck.”
“Kenna, can you please listen? Just this once?”
“Fine,” she huffed into the dark.
“Do you remember in high school how, despite starring in every theater production, you felt like you never fit in? It should’ve been the time of your life. You ruled the drama club. But besides me, you didn’t connect with anyone. Not even that cute boy who played opposite you in
Beauty and the Beast
.”
As my eyes began to adjust, I watched her cross her arms under her chest and turn her face away from me. “He had enormous feet.”
“It’s always something. Hands too small. Eyes too light. Smile too straight.”
She didn’t respond, and I could almost hear the realization hit her. The comparisons she’d been making her entire life had been to a certain youthful, dark-eyed prince with a crooked grin — her not-so-imaginary friend.
After several quiet seconds of letting her digest her revelation, I whispered, “At some point, you are going to have to choose to be brave.”
“What do you mean,
choose to be brave
? I’m about to face a freakin’ zombie fungus.” She uncrossed her arms and propped her fists on her hips.
“I mean brave with your feelings. You’re going to have to tell him everything. Lay yourself bare, with no assurance that it will make any difference.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because . . .” I reached out and wrapped my fingers around her upper arms, saying my next words with special care. “If you don’t, you will always regret it. You’ll always wonder what you missed.”
Her eyes had gone wide and moist, the muscles around her mouth contracting as she struggled to hide from me. But it was no use; I’d seen it. She wanted to take the chance. My heart performed a tiny leap.
