by Carey Corp
“At this point it will have been several hours. And what if . . .” I let my words trail off, not wanting to dump my worst fears all over her blissful oblivion. Standing, I wiggled my ankle until the rest of my foot slid into the boot. “And Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin. Her carriage does.”
That earned me a patented Mackenna Reid eye roll as she scooped up my crown and silver luckenbooth pendant and handed them to me. “Okay, we’ll leave soon. Where did you get that necklace? It’s really cool.”
I grabbed my old travel bag, shoved the necklace and tiara inside, and looped the strap across my chest. Taking Kenna’s arm, I lead her into the other bedroom. “I found it in the witch’s cottage. I recognized it from Queen Lynnette’s portrait and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving it there to rot. Now, will you please get dressed?”
“Of course, Highney.” She gave me a mock bow before tugging her night shirt over her head, her next words muffled by fabric. “Heaven forbid Prince Freak-Out discovers you aren’t where he left you for five minutes.”
Pausing halfway to the bathroom, I spun around. “Did you just call Jamie Prince Freak-Out?” She was trying to diffuse my anxiety with humor. Just like when we were munchkins in our fifth-grade play and I refused to go on stage until she made some joke about the Lollipop Guild being the future juvenile delinquents of Oz. I’d giggled all the way through “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead.” But right now — with the sum-total of my life at stake — her teasing was having the opposite effect.
I marched back into the room and got in her face as she tugged her skirt over her hips. “Jamie is not a freak-out! He’s a teenage boy who has carried the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders since he was old enough to understand it was his duty. And yes, he’s protective of me, but it’s only because without each other neither one of us would be able to survive.”
My voice broke and I pivoted away, swiping at my stupid tears. Why did I always cry when I was angry? A shudder scraped through me, and I pressed a fist to my mouth. We had to get back to Doon. I couldn’t allow myself to imagine the alternative.
“Hey.” Kenna rested her hand lightly on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m scared too.”
With a shaky breath, I turned around and threw my arms around my best friend, squeezing her tight. “I know. I’m sorry too. I’ll be fine, as soon as we’re home.”
Kenna pulled back, her eyes shimmering silver. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Kenna locked the front door behind us, and my gaze caught on the lion-head knocker — the MacCrae family’s royal symbol. It touched me that Gracie and Cameron had maintained their allegiance to the kingdom even in Alloway. It had been their Calling to leave Doon and protect its secrets from the outside.
“Where should we hide this?” Kenna held up the key as her eyes searched the front garden. “I don’t want to forget where it is again.”
The last time she’d forgotten, Fergus had been two steps away from smashing the door down in order to find out if the witch was holding Jamie captive inside. Which she was.
I didn’t know how, but I feared Addie was responsible for us getting booted out of Doon. With renewed urgency, I scanned the overgrown greenery. My eyes landed on an ivy-covered trellis, propped in front of the chimney. “How about over here?” I pushed aside the curtain of vines, squatted down and loosed a stone toward the base. Kenna handed me the key and I set it inside the hole, then shoved the stone back into place, hoping I’d never have need of the key again.
Standing, I dusted off my hands and then dug in my satchel. I handed Kenna the emerald Ring of Aontacht, and then slipped its ruby twin on my finger. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
We rounded the house and set off on the path to the river at a jog. “Did you get all the supplies we talked about?”
“Yep, even nail polish remover,” Kenna announced in triumph, hefting a bulging pillowcase over her shoulder like Santa Claus.
“But did you get the flashlights and extra batteries?” By my estimation, it would be late afternoon, but the walk back to the village from the bridge was a long one.
“Yesss. Duh.” Kenna called from several lengths behind me. “And a couple boxes of blueberry Pop-Tarts.”
I trotted back and grabbed her hand, pulling her beside me. “We’re almost there.”
The rush of water and the tang of fresh mineral-rich air greeted us as we rounded the bend. But when we reached the end of the path, we both stopped short. The stones of the Brig o’ Doon glittered in the late morning sun, the entrance shaded by leafy green trees. It was straight out of a painting — except for the people. Three couples and a family of six crowded the bridge, pointing and taking pictures.
A curse slipped from my lips as I shoved a hand into my hair. I should’ve anticipated this. It was summer here, prime tourist season.
I must have voiced my last thought aloud because Kenna led me to a nearby bench and asked, “And what could you have done about it if you had? Put up crime scene tape to block the entrances?”
“Not a bad idea, actually.” I perched on the edge of the seat, contemplating where I might acquire a believable blockade.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to find some just lying around. So you might as well relax and wait it out.”
After twenty minutes passed and the steady stream of tourists continued, I sat back and crossed my legs in resignation. I was tempted to drag Kenna onto the bridge and unite our rings to see if they would light up at all. But I wasn’t sure how fast they would transport us back into Doon, and I didn’t want to give anyone a heart attack when the two American girls disappeared into thin air.
But what if the rings didn’t work? What if the force that had pushed us out of Doon blocked us from getting back in? We had both rings, so there was no way for anyone to come after us. I hadn’t wanted to tell Kenna, but the truth was that if the rings didn’t work, we’d be cut off from Doon until the next Centennial . . . and we wouldn’t be middle-aged, we’d be dead.
My breath constricted until I was panting like I’d sprinted a half marathon.
“Vee, sweetie, look at me.” I worked to calm my expression before I turned to face her. “I can see the wheels spinning in your head. Talk.”
I smoothed my hair into a ponytail and then twisted the length into a knot, reluctant to voice my deepest fear. Words held power, and I refused to give the evil at work here an ounce more fuel.
Kenna’s wide gray eyes searched my face. “They’re probably missing us by now, huh?”
“Maybe.” I turned back to watch the Brig o’ Doon before reasoning out my answer. “If we were forced out of Doon at . . .” A young family exited the far side of the bridge, leaving one older couple strolling across hand in hand. Preparing to bolt, I tensed and touched Kenna’s shoulder. But as the couple reached the far side, another group approached. This time it was a bunch of college-aged students, posing for goofy pics and taking selfies.
With a groan, I slumped back and focused on Kenna’s earlier question. “So, if we were forced out of Doon when it was late morning there, it’s been almost twenty-four hours here in Alloway. Functioning on the theory that Doon’s time moves at approximately one-fourth the speed of the outside world — ”
“Just get to it already, Einstein. I don’t need a math lesson. Will Duncan be freaking out, or not?”
Arching a brow at her choice of words, I explained, “I’d estimate five to six hours have passed in Doon. So, yeah, I’m sure they know we’re missing by now.”
I sank lower on the bench and twisted the ring on my finger, examining the engravings on the band — Celtic symbols for substitution, protection, and unity. These rings had proven over and over that they conducted the will of the Protector of Doon. They’d seen us through every spell and curse thrown at us. They were incorruptible. We just had to have faith.
The students made their way off the bridge, leaving a young couple chasing a small t
oddler. Ignoring all the doubts fighting for my attention, I said a quick prayer, grabbed Kenna’s hand, and stood. “Come on.”
“What about the people?” she asked, but let me drag her forward across the grass.
“We can’t worry about that.”
Once we reached the edge of the stones, I let go of her hand in case the rings activated, and we exchanged a knowing glance. Strolling forward side by side, Kenna began to chatter about the bridge and the play that had made it famous. Just two tourists visiting a celebrated landmark for the first time. We reached the arch and paused directly across from the small family, who leaned over the edge with their backs to us. We were so close to home, I could smell the earthy crispness of autumn and a fresh batch of Alsberg Bakery’s pumpkin spice scones.
Could we chance it while they weren’t looking? How long would it take for us to disappear? I glanced at both entrances. There were no other people around. My heart began to pound, and I reached for Kenna’s hand just as she stepped toward the young family.
“Excuse me.” She’d pasted on a polite expression, but I could see her fingers trembling. “Would you like me to take your picture?”
The mother turned around. “Sure, that’d be wonderful,” she replied in a chipper Aussie accent.
The woman handed Kenna the camera she had slung over her shoulder. Hurrying them along was a brilliant idea. They posed, and Kenna snapped several shots. After thanking us, the father hoisted the little girl in his arms and they made their way down the other side of the arch.
Unable to wait another second, I held out my hand. “Ready to fly over the rainbow?”
“You know it.” Kenna reached out, muttering, “Duncan, here I come.”
The second our fingers linked, the power of our rings connected, shooting red and green sparks that fused into a brilliant white glow. I glanced to the end of the bridge and met the wide gaze of the tiny girl looking over her father’s shoulder. I smiled and waved as the light enveloped us, so bright I was forced to close my eyes. Maybe after today, that little girl would always believe in miracles, even if she didn’t remember why.
When I blinked, spots floated through my vision. I let go of Kenna’s hand and raced forward. Gleaming white castle turrets soared above a sea of apple- and pumpkin-colored leaves. The unmistakable slate, white-capped mountains of Doon rose in the distance. My chest expanded and I pushed out the air I’d been holding in my lungs.
Home.
Kenna squealed as she tackled me in a bear hug. We danced around in a circle and then rushed off the bridge arm in arm. We ran — or jogged, in Kenna’s case — through the burnt-out woods of the Brig o’ Doon path, still barren since our recent encounter with the Eldritch Limbus, all the way back to the main road.
Kenna bent over to catch her breath, while I repositioned the bag slanted across my chest.
“You know Analisa’s opening a kick-boxing gym in town. We could join together.”
I blinked innocently as she gave me the stink eye. Such was every conversation we had regarding her physical conditioning.
“You might get to punch Analisa . . .” I tempted as we began to walk.
“Now that I could get behind.”
“Do you really hate her so much?”
Kenna paused before answering. “Hate is a strong word. Let’s just say I distrust her.”
“Speaking of trust . . . I hate to do this, but when we find the guys, let’s not blurt out the whole story of what happened at once.” Kenna bit her lip, so I said it for her. “Yes, okay? If I don’t ease Jamie into it, he’ll put me on complete lockdown.”
I wasn’t complaining. Jamie MacCrae loved me with a commitment and intensity that I’d craved my entire life. His protective instincts where I was concerned just required a bit of finessing.
“Is there a safe room in the castle?” She threw me a cautious expression. “I’m not criticizing Jamie, I just want to be able to find you after he locks you up.”
I laughed, but didn’t state the obvious — that if any safety measures were taken, she’d be with me. “Actually, the castle keep is a panic room of sorts. Before Doon was separated from our world, it was where the Laird and his family would hole up during a siege. You know that old, dark dining hall off the throne room?” Kenna nodded, her cheeks flaming up. “I see Duncan’s already introduced you to that part of the castle.”
She shrugged and lengthened her stride.
“So this is how I can get you to speed up.” I jogged to reach her side. “When did you two investigate the keep?”
She walked faster. I laughed and caught up to her again.
As the sun began its slow descent toward the mountains, I shivered in my thin sweater, and my feet began to drag as my adrenaline faded into exhaustion. Surely a cart or horse would come by soon and we could hitch a ride the rest of the way to the village. I hated the thought that Jamie and the others might be worried about us.
Kenna rubbed her arms and turned to me. “Can we take a brea — ”
But her words were drowned out by approaching horses. Moving fast. I grabbed Kenna’s arm and pulled her off to the side as two riders rounded the bend at a gallop. Broad shouldered and regal, one light headed and the other dark. I instantly recognized the MacCrae brothers and threw my arms in the air to wave them down. Jamie turned in our direction, his tawny hair pushed off the strong bones of his face, a familiar, fierce determination in every line of his body.
“Our knights in shining armor have arrived,” Kenna cried as she hopped up and down beside me.
They might not have been wearing armor, but as my prince pulled his mighty steed to a stop, its massive hooves clawing the air before he swung his leg over the horse’s back and leapt to the ground in one fluid motion, I almost swooned. I was in his arms in an instant. Tempted to melt into his warmth, I forced myself to pull back and paste on a serene smile.
Jamie’s hands framed my face, a furrow appearing over his left brow as his dark eyes searched mine. His thumbs swept over my cheeks in a gentle caress. “Are ye all right?”
I took his hands in mine. “I’m fine.” I glanced over to where Duncan held Kenna close. “We’re fine.”
Duncan ran a hand over the back of Kenna’s hair. “Where’ve ye been, woman?”
Kenna shrugged, glancing pointedly in my direction.
“Yes, where have ye been?” Jamie squeezed my fingers. “Eòran said you disappeared from the village hours ago.”
I disconnected our hands, stepped back from him, and forced a casual tone. “Somehow we ended up in Alloway. I’m not sure — ”
“You what?” Jamie roared.
“Modern-day Alloway?” Duncan demanded.
I lifted my palms. “Settle down! We weren’t hurt. I had the rings with me, and we crossed back over the bridge. No problem.”
Jamie scrubbed a hand over his mouth, a million questions battling in his turbulent gaze.
“Jamie.” I grasped the hard muscle of his bicep. “I’ll explain everything, but can we not do it in the middle of the road? I’m starving. We haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours.”
His eyes flew wide. “By the Saints, lass! Ye’ve been gone for an entire day of modern time? What took ye so blasted long to get back?”
So much for giving it to them in small doses. I sighed at my own stupidity. Kenna shook her head and then gave me the “watch and learn” look.
“Duncan.” She leaned into his chest and gave a little shiver. “I’m cold and tired. I promise we’ll explain everything over a nice cup of tea back at the castle.”
Duncan and Jamie exchanged a nod and then helped us up onto their mounts. Jamie swung up behind me and told me to lean back and relax. His way of saying he’d hold off his questions — for now.
He wheeled Crusoe in a circle with one hand on the reins, his other arm tucked around my waist, holding me close. The horse gave a snort and then trotted forward with a rhythmic sway. Snuggled into Jamie’s warmth, my head resting on his shoulder, hi
s delicious stormy scent filling me with every breath, I tried unsuccessfully to keep my mind from going to the dark side. What if it happened again? What if next time I couldn’t get back? And I was separated from everything and everyone I loved, forever?
CHAPTER 8
Mackenna
Duncan’s massive chest pressed against my back as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Let’s keep going . . .”
Mabel bristled in her stride and tossed her black mane, causing me to focus more on the beast beneath me than the hot boy behind me. Duncan straightened and tightened the reins to bring his steed into instant submission. He murmured to her in a soothing voice that sounded infuriatingly similar to the one he occasionally used on me, and she obeyed.
The horse loved him. Me, she tolerated only when absolutely necessary.
Now that I had no concerns of Analisa poaching my boyfriend, Mabel had become my new nemesis. Whenever Duncan wasn’t looking, she yanked my hair with her teeth, slapped me across the face with her tail, or nudged me into the filthy hay in the corner of her stall. One time I swear she bit my butt, but when I said as much to Duncan he’d defended her saying she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body. On that we could agree. Mabel didn’t have a jealous bone, she had two hundred and five of them — a fact I’d looked up in the castle library just to be sure.
“ . . . could bypass the castle and be to the hunting lodge by nightfall.” It took me a minute to realize that Duncan’s two thoughts were connected and he that he was suggesting we not go straight back.
Around the bend in the lane stood the village of Doon, and rising into the distance beyond, our destination, the Castle MacCrae. Home . . . I tested the word out. It felt foreign, like when Mario Rosetti lapsed into his native Italian. I couldn’t remember the last time a place had felt like home. Not my studio in Chicago, or the house in Arkansas that my dad had uprooted me to at the start of senior year. Maybe before that, in my old house in Bainbridge, Indiana . . . but even then, only when Vee was there with me.
It was the same way with Dunbrae Cottage. My aunt Gracie’s death had left a void, as if the magical spark had ebbed away, leaving cold wood and plaster behind. Home wasn’t a place, it was the people I loved — my royal best friend, the amazing boy at my back, and friends who were more like family than actual blood relatives. Because of them, I belonged here and, in time, I hoped I would feel the truth of it.