Shades of Doon (32 page)
I wanted — desperately — to believe him. That our crazy plan would work. “But what if she doesn’t? What if she goes full-on big-bad in front of everyone?”
Duncan’s warm fingers lingered against my cheeks. His eyes drank me in like a condemned man saying his final good-byes. “I pray that it never comes to that.” Which wasn’t an answer.
M
y grandfather once told me that our character is defined in the moments when we think we can’t go on: when we’re terrified to give a presentation, or stand up to the person we’re most afraid of, or lay dying of cancer in a hospital bed. In those moments we choose weakness or courage. When my grandpa passed on, he looked death in the face and welcomed it, because even though he couldn’t see what waited for him on the other side, he had faith — a belief that had sprouted from thousands of choices, tiny seeds that had grown into an unshakable oak tree.
In the antechamber off the throne room, I took my last few minutes alone to examine my reflection. The fiery jewels of my new tiara glinted against the dark hair piled on top of my head, the up-do creating an illusion of height. I adjusted the folds of my regal, floor-length mantle, and the tiny gemstones and gold thread swirling over the snowy fabric sparkled in the light. I lifted my chin, set my jaw, and gazed into my determined eyes. And a queen stared back.
But on the inside I trembled like a sapling in the wind. I faced an opponent that was not only a psychotic killer with the aspirations of Hitler and the powers of Voldemort, she was invisible. When I stepped into the throne room, I might as well be wearing a red and white bull’s-eye. Addie could be anywhere — watching me from the audience and guffawing at my feeble attempts to draw her out, or lurking in the shadows ready to zap me dead on the spot.
Squeezing my eyes closed, my heart beat a tattoo that stole my breath. Why had I been chosen for this role? Why would Doon’s Protector choose a young, broken girl from the Midwest with no magic, and no special skills outside of executing a perfect pirouette, to lead a kingdom into war? I balled my hands into fists and flung my head back, ranting at the twenty-foot ceiling, “How am I supposed to do this?”
“With our help.”
I glanced in the mirror to find my best friend and my fiancé entering the room. I whirled around, too grateful to have them with me to be embarrassed that they’d witnessed my moment of weakness.
Jamie moved to my side. “You’re no’ alone, Verranica.”
Kenna’s eyes latched onto mine. “We’re all in this together.”
“My ma always said there is power in unity.” Jamie’s voice was soft, but firm. “Individually, we may be no match for the witch, but woven together we’re unbreakable.”
“Like a four-stranded cord,” Duncan said as he entered the room.
Or a wolf pack
, I thought with a secret smile.
“Make tha’ seven.” We all turned to see Fergus and Fiona slip through the door before Duncan closed it.
Kenna, utilizing her brilliant observations skills, commented, “I may not be a math girl, but I think you just skipped a number.”
“Donna ever forget the Protector.” Fiona took my hand and then Kenna’s and lifted our rings into the light, their stones shining pure and strong. “There is untapped power in each o’ you that you only need call on at the appropriate time.”
Kenna and I exchanged a long look. Together, we could do this. We had to.
“Speakin’ o’ the time.” Fergus tilted his head toward the doorway. “Everyone is assembled.”
“All of the Destined?” I asked.
My enormous friend bowed. “Aye, Yer Majesty, they’re all here.”
Jamie stepped forward. “Are the guards stationed around the perimeter?”
“And interspersed among the crowd?” Duncan added.
“Aye, my lairds,” Fergus responded with a nod.
Kenna bumped my shoulder and muttered, “Why do I feel like we’re the last people on the
Titanic
? Clearly, I get to be the Unsinkable Molly Brown.” She flipped her red hair over her shoulder with a flourish and batted her eyes at me. “You can be Kate Winslet. Sorry about your luck, Jamie.”
I rolled my eyes and bit my lip against a grin. Her grim humor had a way of forcing me outside of myself — lacing even the darkest circumstances with hope. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close.
Fiona took Fergus’s hand and gathered us all into a tight circle where she said a quick, ardent prayer. As she asked for the witch to be revealed and for each of us to have the strength and wisdom to stop Addie’s evil plans, something bloomed inside of me, fortifying my spine and pushing out my fear.
I’d been Called here for a purpose — a destiny that was inexplicably linked with not only my best friend and my prince, but a malevolent force that had stalked Doon for centuries. I
didn’t understand why I’d been made queen at this moment in time. But the choice of how I would face the challenge was mine — and I chose to stand as an unwavering oak.
Lifting my head, I leveled my gaze on each one of my loved ones’ faces in turn. “Addie may have thought she gained the advantage by entering Doon, but she’s on
our
turf now.” There were several impassioned ‘Ayes’ before I continued. “We’re about to bring that witch’s reign of terror to its final end. No more epilogues, sequels, or comebacks. This is it.” I lifted my chin, my next words ringing out, “We do this for Doon.”
Jamie’s eyes blazed into mine, his voice deep and strong. “For Doon.”
Our fingers still linked, Kenna raised my and Duncan’s hands above our heads. “For Doon!”
Then everyone lifted their arms into the air and declared in unison, “For Doon!”
Following a few more encouraging words, we broke our huddle and my friends began to file out of the room. I was to wait until Reverend Guthrie spoke his piece about the fealty being a covenant with the Protector before making my grand entrance. I’d turned to look over my notes for the ceremony when warm fingers wrapped my upper arm. Despite the gravity of the moment, I smiled — I would know his touch a thousand feet beneath the ocean.
“I’ve a gift for ye.”
I set down my paper and looked up into Jamie’s eyes, so often hard and guarded, shining bright with love, and perhaps a hint of anguish. After being queen, I understood why he’d learned to hide his feelings from the world. But I could read his beautiful face like a favorite book, and it made me giddy knowing I was the only one.
“You do?”
He released my arm to withdraw something from his pocket, and I noticed his appearance for the first time that evening. He wore his dress kilt, a formal black jacket draped with the MacCrae tartan, a jeweled sword at his hip — and he’d cut his hair. The short layers were swept up and off of his forehead, the sides and back trimmed close. I stepped into him and ran my hand down the nape of his broad neck, missing the way the strands used to curl around my fingers. The style accentuated his sharp cheekbones and strong nose, making him appear older, and somehow more . . . Jamie. “Why did you cut your hair?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, a furrow appearing above his left brow. “For battle.”
My gut tightened, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew it was coming, the vision had been crystal clear, but I still hoped it could be avoided somehow. That we could take the witch by surprise and end this before it spiraled out of control.
“Hey.” He cupped my cheek, his hand dwarfing my face. “Donna lose courage, love. I’ve been preparin’ for this all of my life. But I donna want to talk about that right now.” His thumb brushed over my cheek, setting my skin on fire despite all the other emotions fighting for my attention. Intensity tightening his lips, he released my face and then placed something in my hand.
I glanced down to find a bunch of ribbons, each strand saturated in the vibrant colors of a rainbow.
“They’re for our handfastin’,” he explained.
My heart did a twirl in my chest as I remembered that multicolored cords were used to bind the couple’s hands together in a symbol of commitment.
He tipped up my chin, his dark eyes penetrating my soul. “Verranica, I vow to ye that no matter what happens, we will
be handfasted within a fortnight. Nothing will keep me from makin’ you mine in truth.”
The reasons for the Completing had never been clearer to me than in the days since I’d returned to Doon. Jamie’s calm-in-the-storm-strength, flawless logic, and natural leadership were the perfect complement to my blind determination, idealism, and sometimes reckless enthusiasm. I
needed
him by my side for the good of the kingdom, and my heart.
I glanced at him under my lashes. “How soon after the handfasting can we marry?”
He broke into a full-blown, dimpled grin. “As soon as ye like.”
I arched a brow. “The next day?”
He gathered me in his arms, and lowered his head until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from mine. I drank in his sweet breath as the low timbre of his voice vibrated inside me. “The same day.”
Our lips met, and the rest of the world faded away, everything but Jamie’s touch — the liquid fire of his mouth moving on mine, the electric caress of his fingers on my neck, my face. He cupped my cheeks, his mouth sliding across mine with bone-melting deliberation. Stars danced behind my eyelids as he nipped my bottom lip and then caught me when my knees buckled beneath me.
A knock sounded and we broke apart. The air charged and heavy between us, we each panted for breath. Jamie’s gaze pierced mine, his eyes communicating all he couldn’t say — whatever happened after we stepped from this room, he was mine and I was his. Forever.
I swiped a hand across my tingling lips and straightened my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
He nodded once and presented his bent elbow to me. After
ensuring the ribbons were tucked safely in the pocket of my skirt, I placed my hand on his forearm. “Blaz?”
“He’s with Lachlan and his family.”
I looked up into Jamie’s dark eyes one last time, the flecks of gold shining like a beacon. “Thank you.”
He winked, making me smile as Fergus opened the door. “’Tis time.”
After traversing a short hallway, we entered the packed throne room. The crowd felt unnaturally hushed as the horns split the silence, announcing my arrival.
“Presenting your Called monarch, the brave and honorable, her Majesty Queen Veronica!”
Jamie squeezed my hand and I separated my arm from his, walking forward on numb feet. As I reached the center of the dais, a cheer went up, followed by applause, every Doonian rising to their feet. The show of unmitigated support fortified the steely resolve growing inside of me, and I beamed. These were my people, my family, my home, and I would stop at nothing to protect them.
S
ome of my most and least favorite musicals had to do with royalty — always in a totally fictional, myths-and-legends kind of way. Maybe if I’d grown up in the UK with real monarchs, it would be easier to wrap my mind around royals as more than the stuff of fairy tales. But my American childhood had conditioned me for fantasy, not politics.
I stood in the front of the throne room watching as the MacCrae princes, first Jamie and then Duncan, knelt in front of my bestie on the sacred stone Doonians called the
Liath Fàil
and pledged their lives. In that moment there were no relationships outside a queen and her loyal subjects. In my mind Vee and I were two parts of a whole, equal and complimentary pieces. But in Doon that was no longer true. Vee was the leader of the country, followed by the royal family. Even when I married Duncan, I would be, at best, fourth in the pecking order.
Could I pledge my allegiance as her subservient and faithful subject in total sincerity? She was practically my sister — I couldn’t envision a day when she would not take my thoughts
and feelings into account, but if it ever were to happen, could I obediently follow? Could I sacrifice my own will to hers? That’s what was on the line.
As I puzzled out what the vow meant for me personally, Vee’s advisors, the Wise Men, made their oaths. After them came Fergus and the queen’s royal guard. It had been Duncan’s brilliant idea to have the advisors and soldiers pledge before the other citizens. He hoped it would make them less susceptible to the witch’s influence. After making their vows, the queen’s guard lined the far aisles on both sides of the throne room — another tactical decision. These men would control the flow of subjects as the rest of the Doonians made their vows and filed back into place.
To my right, Fiona squeezed my wrist. “Our turn,” she whispered and turned toward the center aisle, her gentle grip encouraging me to do the same. Behind me, Analisa, Emily, Sofia, and Gabriella followed. As Vee’s inner circle, we would make our vows next.
Still feeling mildly conflicted, I silently watched Fiona climb the two steps to the altar and gracefully drop to one knee. As she pledged her fealty, I worried about our plan. What were the odds that we could identify and apprehend Addie without casualties?
After kissing the brilliant red stone of the ring on Vee’s finger, Fiona rose, and then it was my turn. Suddenly, my legs went wobbly as I rushed up the two steps to the altar to speak the oath that would forever change the dynamic between me and my other half. For a moment I just stared, searching beneath the crown and mantle for the girl who’d shared all my deepest secrets since kindergarten. Reverend Guthrie cleared his throat. “Kneel, please.”
I immediately dropped to one knee on the rough sandstone
slab in the center of the dais. The momentum of my movement caused me to sway off balance. Before I could go sprawling on my butt, Vee’s hand grabbed mine. As she steadied me, I glimpsed a flash of metallic color at her wrist. I didn’t need more than a glance to know it was half of a silver heart encrusted with fake jewels that read
ST . . . NDS
. The matching other half of the charm bracelet,
BE . . . FRIE
was somewhere on the dresser back in my turret room. It had been our Christmas gifts to one another back in first grade, bought with our own money. That she would wear it for this occasion brought tears to my eyes. As my best friend, I trusted her with my whole life. I could and would trust her as my queen.
