Doon (Doon Novel, A) (19 page)

T
he dim corridor grew longer with every step Fergus and I took. Torch-like sconces diffused our path in flickering light as we hurried past the rich tapestries, distinguished portraits, and burnished suits of armor that lined the austere passageway. Like living creatures, deep shadows set up residence along every angle.

I rubbed the goose bumps along my arms. This part of the castle felt ancient, almost like an entirely different structure than the bright and airy palace I’d come to love.

We approached a set of arched wooden doors, iron hinges, and ringed door pulls lending authenticity to the gothic atmosphere. Fergus lifted a lion-head knocker and tapped lightly while I lingered a few feet behind. Waiting, I glanced up at my protector. I must’ve looked as scared as I felt because he broke his stoic façade to give me a tiny smile of reassurance. His usually flushed skin appeared colorless, his bright eyes dim and shadowed.

The depth of his sorrow pulled me out of my selfish preoccupation. The people of Doon were suffering along with their beloved laird. I caught Fergus’s meaty hand in mine and gave it a brief squeeze. Knowing if one of the other guards saw our exchange, my new friend would suffer for it, I let go quickly. Fergus acknowledged the gesture with a slight nod of his head.

The door opened a crack and Fergus spoke in hushed tones to someone inside. The only word I could make out was my own name. As the door closed again, I clenched my teeth. The waiting was the worst. I just couldn’t fathom why the king would want to speak to me, of all people. I wasn’t even a Doonian. Yet, my heart whispered before I could stop it.

The door opened again, and Duncan slipped out into the corridor, followed by Jamie.

A lock of golden hair fell over Jamie’s forehead, partially obscuring his red-rimmed eyes. It had been only a day since I’d last seen him, but it felt like a thousand years of miserable separation. I had to fight back the urge to run and embrace him.

“Lairds, I will escort the lassie. No need ta concern yer-selves.” Fergus’s posture was rigid, his words uncharacteristically formal.

“Thank you, Fergus,” Jamie said, his voice sounding strained. “I have need to see to a few judicial matters. Duncan shall attend Father after h—” Jamie’s voice cut off, and he cleared his throat with a rough cough before continuing. “His meeting.”

Jamie’s eyes darted to mine and then away so fast, the supportive smile I started to give him died on my lips. But I couldn’t leave things like this—not after what had happened between us on the cliffs.

As he turned to go, I followed on his heels. “Jamie, wait!”

Stopping abruptly, he turned. His pale face void of emotion, he stared down at me. And I had no idea what to say.

“Are you okay?” Mentally kicking myself for being an insensitive jerk, I watched every feature of his face tighten. Of course he wasn’t okay; his dad was dying. “I mean … Is there anything I can do?”

A sardonic smile twisted the corner of his mouth as his eyes shifted to hard ebony. “Aye. You can leave me alone.”

Without waiting for my reply, he turned and walked away, his swift footsteps echoing through the corridor. Feeling as if I’d just taken a blow to the gut, I wrapped my arms around my waist in an attempt to keep myself from collapsing onto the stone floor.

Catching my eye, Duncan flashed an apologetic smile before turning and following his brother.

“We should no’ keep the laird waitin’,” Fergus said gently.

Hoping I could keep myself together, I turned to follow him, clasping my hands tightly in front of me as we entered the dark chamber. A single candle on the nightstand illuminated a massive bed draped in burgundy velvet and shadow.

“My laird, I have brought Miss Veronica Welling, as ye requested.” Fergus stood in front of me, his large frame blocking my view of the king. I checked the urge to twist my hair behind my head, knowing Fiona’d spent considerable time that morning braiding the sides and neatly tying them back with a ribbon that matched my royal blue skirt.

“Well, let me see her then, man.” The voice sounded stronger than I’d expected for a dying man.

“Aye, sire.” Fergus stepped out of my way.

The king sat propped up by large pillows behind his back and under his arms. His long silver hair rested loose on his shoulders.

“Have a seat, my dear.” His kind, dark eyes helped relax the knots in my chest.

Fergus moved a chair to the side of the bed and I sat. The king tilted his head, studying me for several seconds. Then he focused his regard on Fergus, whom I could feel hovering close behind. “Tha’ shall be all, Fergus.”

With a furtive glance in my direction, Fergus let himself out of the room.

I turned back to face the king, and he appeared to shrink before my eyes. Falling back into the pillows, he closed his eyes. Just when I started to ask him if I could get him anything, he said, “Authority can be quite exhausting.” His eyes opened then and he stared at me intently.

Sitting straight, my hands folded in my lap, I wasn’t sure if I should agree or remain silent. But before I could make up my mind, the king continued, “Veronica—may I call ye Veronica?”

“Of course.”

“Veronica, dear, why have ye come ta Doon?”

I jumped a little, startled by the question no one had yet bothered to ask. But now that it had been put to me, it seemed the most obvious question of all.

What had led me to Doon? Had I manipulated Kenna to the bridge, knowing she would force me to cross? Or had I done it to help my best friend find what her aunt had so desperately wanted for her? Or had my own personal mission to find the boy who’d haunted my days and nights influenced my every action? I was pretty sure I knew the answer. I glanced up at the patiently waiting king.

“I … began having visions shortly before I came to Scotland. When I first put on the Ring of Aontacht and heard the legend of Doon, I felt in my spirit it was all true. Gracie Lockhart believed Kenna had a reason to come here, but Ken had a hard time believing it and well, I …” I hesitated, not sure what I wanted to say.

The king nodded in encouragement.

“I knew the kingdom existed, and that no matter what it took I had to find it.”

“Because of the dreams ye were having?”

“They weren’t dreams exactly, since I was awake, but in any case … it seems I misinterpreted them.”

The king sputtered as coughs began to rack his frail body. I scrambled to the pitcher I’d seen sitting on a nearby table. Returning with a glass of water, I helped the king sit up straighter and held the glass to his lips. After a moment, his hands were steady enough to hold the cup on his own.

“Sir, should I get Fergus?”

He waved his hand and shook his head dismissively. “Sit, lass. I’m fine now.”

I perched on the edge of the chair, wondering if I should cut the audience short. The conversation was clearly taking its toll, but my heart urged me to continue on the chance it could shed some light on Jamie’s behavior.

“Could ye indulge an auld man and tell me what ye had visions of before coming here?”

My shoulders slumped. The moment of truth had come. I didn’t want to give him false hope, considering the strong implications of the Calling in Doon’s culture. But I couldn’t lie to this honorable man, the king of Doon, and, most importantly, Jamie’s father.

“It was your son … Jamie.” Inexplicably, tears filled my eyes.

“Ahh, yes. ’Tis as I suspected then.” There was a gentle smile on his face, and as his dark eyes crinkled at the edges I could see why this man held a special place in the hearts of everyone in the kingdom. He reached out his hand for mine. I held his large, bony fingers, wondering what I’d just done.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and stiffened my spine in determination. “I had no right.”

The king looked directly into my eyes, a shrewd expression on his face. “No right ta what?”

“No right to fall in love with your son.” Having said it—actually admitting it for the first time—a breath whooshed out from deep within my chest.

“Veronica, ye are here fer a reason. Our Protector does no’ make mistakes.” Coughs began to shake his body once more. I refilled his empty glass, and then helped him hold it as he took short sips between ragged breaths. When he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “But there is something in your way …” His eyes watered in his effort to continue. “Someone.”

The king’s face turned crimson as he valiantly fought for breath. “You alone can save the kingdom.” He began coughing again. “When the time comes, ye must be willing ta sacrifice … for Jamie’s sake.”

“Sir, I don’t understand.” Someone? Was he talking about Sofia? Did he mean I should sacrifice my feelings so Jamie could be with Sofia? And how could I save the kingdom?

He swallowed, seeming to struggle for breath.

“I’m going to get Fergus.” I started to rise.

He shook his head, “Nay,” he croaked. “I need ta tell ye …”

“Yes, sir, I’m listening.” I leaned in close.

“Doon did no’ call ye here ta become its queen by marrying my son.” The king sunk back into his pillows then, a coughing fit consuming him.

I stood frozen and stared at him for several seconds, trying to comprehend his words. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? I wasn’t meant to be with Jamie?

I stood on weak legs to fetch Fergus. But before I could
move away, the king sat up, his cold hand clutched my arm, and he gasped out one chilling word. “Witch.”

Suddenly, the room spun away from me in a vortex of sights, sounds, and emotions. The dizzying effect sent me to my knees as the whirl of images flashed before my eyes and then ground to a sudden stop on a single hazy figure.

Waves of asymmetric blonde hair shifted over the figure’s shoulder as she turned toward me—Adelaide Dell, the caretaker of Dunbrae Cottage. What the—?

The vision grew sharper, like the lens of a camera coming into focus. Addie’s flawless skin thinned, becoming lined with age, her mouth turning down slightly at the corners. Her pencil skirt and twin sweater set morphed into an old-fashioned black dress that covered her from neck to ankle. Her pale hair turned white, twisting into a tight bun as she clutched a small leather-bound book to her chest.

The vision fell away, leaving me in a crumpled, boneless heap on the floor. Addie Dell is the witch of Doon! Working to focus my eyes, I lifted my head and saw the king’s arm hanging limply over the edge of the bed above me. Gripping the mattress, I struggled to my feet and found him still and silent. His eyes half-closed, his head lolled listless on his shoulder. Oh no! Was he gone?

“Laird MacCrae?” I whispered into the dead silence of the room. Leaning forward, I placed my fingers on the side of his neck and counted to thirty before I found a pulse. It was weak, but steady. I turned to get help.

Raised voices greeted me as I neared the chamber door. “Father thinks you’ve misread the dreams. Tell her, Jamie, perhaps—”

“I can’t risk it.”

“If you care for her at all, give her a chance.”

“I care for this kingdom. As should you, brother!”

“If you dinna tell Veronica, I swear to you I will!”

My stomach did a sickening backflip, and I burst out of the room to find Jamie and Duncan nose to nose. “Your father passed out!”

The brothers turned to me, their faces twin masks of stone as I added, “I checked his pulse. It’s weak but steady.”

“I will attend him.” Duncan strode through the open door. “Veronica, Jamie has something to discuss with you.”

Jamie sighed heavily and shoved a hand into his disheveled hair. When he turned to me, his perfect lips twisted in a scowl. “You’ve wanted to know if I was dreaming about you?” he snapped.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

His face softened. “I did dream of you … You were crying the first time I saw you. Then I couldn’t walk down the street without seeing your haunting face. And that day in the bedroom window …” He swallowed convulsively.

My pulse stuttered as I waited for him to continue.

“At first the dreams were … amazing. You were more than I could’ve dared hope for.” He glared at his feet, shoved his hands in his pants pockets, brows drawing together. When he looked up, his eyes were misty as if tears—no, it had to be a trick of the torchlight. “But then the dreams changed. I couldna get close … an evil surrounded you, moved with you, contaminating everything, until …” He paused, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he stared at the wall.

I desperately wished he would stop, but I couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move.

His eyes sliced back to mine, his entire face drawn, almost haggard. When he spoke, his voice was thick with grief. “Until
everythin’ was destroyed. The entire kingdom … gone forever … because of you.”

Like a blow to the chest, his words stopped my heart.

I stared at him and shook my head. My mouth moved for several seconds before I could whisper, “No. You’re wrong.”

His eyes burned into mine, begging me—to what? Believe him? Prove my innocence? There was nothing I could say.

I wanted to shout that even if he’d dreamt that I’d harmed the kingdom, it didn’t mean anything. It was just a nightmare. But that wasn’t true. A bubble of panic pushed against my ribs, and I pulled in a ragged breath. Dreams meant everything here.

Jamie took a step and reached for me. I stumbled out of his reach. Turning on my heel, I ran blindly down the opposite corridor. He called my name but I didn’t stop. Consumed by tears, I ran aimlessly through the maze-like castle until I found a dark, quite hallway and sank to the floor, my head in my hands.

The worst part was that I’d begun to let myself hope. As hard as I tried to deny it, there’d been a secret part of me that wished, prayed even, that the visions meant this amazing boy was my soul mate—the destiny that’d brought me here. But instead, I was his nightmare and my destiny his ultimate destruction.

Help me!

Every time I tried to surface, another hideous dream tugged me under. I was strapped to a chair, forced to watch Jamie and Sofia twirl across the dance floor while the benevolent king repeatedly told me I wasn’t meant to be with his son. Addie appeared, as real as if she were standing before me, her eyes glowing an unearthly purple. She handed me a small book and moments later Jamie walked toward me, tall and solid. I held
the familiar leather volume out to him as warnings shrieked through my brain. He took what I offered and crumpled at my feet, gasping for breath. Abruptly, he stopped struggling, his beautiful face frozen in death. The witch cackled gleefully, “Thank you Veronica. You’ve done well!”