by Carey Corp
I grinned.
“But that doesna mean you’re invited to join us,” Duncan added.
“To work out in an icky dungeon? No thanks. And don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Except for the someone who was hearing this entire conversation, I added in my head as I saw the bush quiver out of the corner of my eye.
“Thank you, Yer Majesty.” Duncan bowed his head with a tiny smile.
Jamie cleared his throat. “Better, but I’m still itchin’ to teach you a lesson, little brother. Are we on?”
Duncan’s expression took on a blank quality, something I still had a hard time getting used to seeing on him. “I’ll meet you there in an hour. I promised Ana a visit as soon as I returned.” He squatted and picked up the heavy basket.
Jamie squeezed my fingers and I met his dark, gold-flecked eyes. “I’ll walk ye back to the castle, love.”
It took me several seconds to shake off the spell of his gaze to answer. “Thanks, but I’ll finish my run.”
“We need to talk. I’d like to give you an update.”
“Me too.” Knowing he would freak, I couldn’t yet tell him about the spell book, but I did want to discuss everything else I’d learned, and hear about the patrol. There was also the matter of Gregory Forrester waking from his coma to address. I’d convinced the miller to keep his brother’s disappearance into the limbus a secret . . . for now. “Meet me for lunch in my suite?”
“Aye.” He hesitated, but then pressed his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “Be careful,” he whispered before stepping away from me.
“I always am,” I called as he and Duncan set off to the main road.
As they rounded the bend I overheard Jamie say, “Here, I’ll carry that for a while.” Followed by a grunt, and then a strangled, “Saints! Did you get enough, do ye think?”
Duncan’s laughter echoed back through the trees.
I turned to find a slightly disheveled Kenna beside me.
“You shouldn’t frown like that. It’ll give you wrinkles,” I said as I pulled twigs from her bright hair.
“Like I care what I’m going to look like in ten years. Seriously, what does it matter . . .” She trailed off and began walking down the forest path.
Clearly, she was upset, and I was pretty sure I knew why.
Catching up to her, I prompted, “Do you remember when I thought Jamie wanted to be with Sofia?”
“Yeah . . .”
“I’d not only convinced myself that Jamie loved her, but that he was meant to be with her instead of me.” I kicked a pebble with the toe of my shoe and watched it roll into the underbrush. “That she was meant to be his queen.
“Even though I loved Doon with every fiber of my being, I refused to consider the possibility of staying. I couldn’t stand the thought of living the rest of my life pining after Jamie and watching him with someone else.”
“Thanks for the stroll down memory lane. We should go.” Kenna picked up her pace.
The stretch of her long legs forced me to jog to keep up with her. “Stop, okay?”
She paused and turned toward me, gripping the enormous spell book to her chest like a shield.
“Duncan and Ana are friends. That’s it.”
“Vee, I don’t care. That oaf can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants.”
Before she spun on her heel and stalked away, I caught a shimmer in her eyes. She was using Duncan’s relationship with Ana to convince herself she didn’t care. But I knew better. We shared a brain, after all.
CHAPTER 19
Mackenna
Doing my best human Ping-Pong ball impersonation, I volleyed between Vee and Fiona, deciphering the big bad book of spells in my rooms, and the bridal shower preparations heavily underway in Vee’s chambers. Emily and Analisa were decorating Vee’s sitting room in pink hearts of all shapes and sizes. Since Doon, despite all its progressiveness, was still apart from the modern world, there was no logical place to hold a bachelorette party that wouldn’t send the older citizens into culture shock, no matter how tame. Vee’s chambers seemed the most private place to party.
At the end of the room near the fireplace sat a small tin tub in front of a comfy wingback chair. Vee had learned that the washing of the bride’s feet was an ancient Scottish wedding tradition. Giving the custom our own spin, the adjacent table held everything needed for mani-pedis, including nine different shades of nail polish.
A mirrored ball hung from the center of the room, waiting for the sun to go down. Apparently, Emily had it custom made by the local glass cutter. I’d no doubt that by next market day there’d be a dozen more for sale . . . a royal disco ball for every home, just in time for the end of the world.
“Tell Queen Veronica we’re nearly done.” Emily finished wrapping a heart garland around a pillar and then stepped back to survey her handiwork with a wide smile. In the brief time I’d known the girl, this was the happiest I’d ever seen her.
Analisa was her same shifty self. Twice she snuck away to do who-knew-what with who-knew-whom. I could only guess that Duncan was involved, but I refused to speculate as to what they actually did when they were together. My heart couldn’t handle the truth.
Walking back to my own rooms, I nodded at Eòran as I passed. Mutton Chops was growing on me. He was loyal to a fault and never asked questions above his pay grade. Beyond that, he would die to protect his Midwestern Queen. That kind of devotion was rare.
As I stepped inside, Vee motioned me to the table. “Fiona found it.” She pointed to the Pictish symbol on the open page of the spell book. Above the graphic, the word LIMBUS was written in slanting script.
Next to Vee, Fiona was bent over the spell-breaker book, writing furiously. She didn’t even look up as Vee continued. “According to the description in the spell book, this is the same limbus that plagued King Angus just before the miracle. It was dormant, and something the witch did reactivated it.”
The memory of Addie as I’d last seen her, shriveled and cackling, caused goose pimples to crawl across my skin. “So this was like her getting the last laugh?”
Vee frowned. “Hopefully. You said she was gone when you returned to the cottage — so as much as we want to assume she’s just a powerless old woman, we can’t be sure.”
Although she didn’t mean to accuse me, guilt settled squarely on my shoulders. “It never even occurred to me to figure out where she went. I was just glad she was gone.”
“No one’s blaming you, Ken. My point is when it comes to Addie, we can’t be sure of anything.”
“Aye.” Fiona spoke and we both refocused on her. “I’m done with the translation. It seems the limbus will go inta a suspended state like a hibernation if the witch who cast the spell dies. But anyone from that bloodline can reactivate it.”
Vee nodded. “So that explains what happened at the Miracle. One of Addie’s sisters must’ve cast the spell. When she died, it went dormant.”
“Aye, until Adelaide restarted it.”
There was a dot I was failing to connect. “But if we don’t know where Addie is, how do we stop the limbus now?”
Pointing to the text under the spell-breaker book, Fiona replied, “By destroying the original spell for good. All we need is an axe blessed by God and tested in righteous battle.”
“Is that all?” She might as well have said we needed a golden unicorn horn from over the rainbow.
Vee cast her a sly glance. “I don’t suppose Doon just happens to have one lying around?”
“Well, if my gram is to be believed, tucked away somewhere in the catacombs under the castle is the Arm o’ the Bruce.”
While I didn’t doubt there were tons of body parts in the MacCrae catacombs, and I was pretty sure she didn’t mean a literal arm, I couldn’t help but crack wise. “What about the rest of Bruce?”
Fiona rolled her eyes and Vee grimaced apologetically as the former explained, “The Arm o’ the Bruce is the battle axe of the great king of Scotland, Robert the Bruce. He u
sed it in Scotland’s war of independence from England.”
“And it’s just laying around in the castle basement?”
She nodded. “Yea, that and other things, if the stories are true.”
Before Vee could question her to specify what “other things,” shouts sounded from the courtyard. Judging from the sheer volume of noise, the entire kingdom had their panties in a twist about something.
Vee leapt to her feet and raced to the door. She flung it open and barely escaped the knock of Eòran’s knuckles against her forehead. As Vee jerked back, Mutton Chops stilled his hand and sputtered apologies.
“What’s going on, Eòran?”
“There’s a group of lads requesting an audience, m’lady.”
“With me?” Her eyes grew huge, no doubt picturing the mobs that had been occasionally gathering to oppose her rule.
“Nay, with Miss Fiona.”
Confirming this news, I heard the unmistakable voices of Jamie and Duncan calling to Fiona, followed by uproarious laughter.
Suddenly, Fiona shoved me to the side. “Those MacCrae brothers better not have laid a finger on my fiancé!” Shouldering Vee out of the way, the petite girl charged into the hall muttering, “Princes or no’, I will end them.”
Lured by the commotion, Emily and Analisa stepped from Vee’s suite, and the four of us tripped down the stairs in Fiona’s wake. At the bottom of the tower, we curved right and out a side door into the rowdy courtyard.
The diminutive bride-to-be faced down several dozen guys. Doonians who worked at the castle and locals from the village clustered around the fringes watching the spectacle unfold.
The boisterous crowd grew expectantly quiet as they faced us with wide grins and subdued chuckles. I recognized the oldest Rosetti boy along with some of his brothers as they exchanged conspiratorial glances with the princes. After a moment, the sea parted to reveal a black-and-white chicken man hunched over with a bushel of rocks on his back. Shirtless, his entire body was covered with an oozing dark substance and a haphazard layer of downy white feathers. Straining under the weight of his burden, the Chicken Man turned doleful pale blue eyes our direction and moaned, “Give us a kiss, Fee.”
Fiona planted her hands on her hips. “Over my dead body, Fergus Lockhart.”
The male population of the crowd — presumably the same ones responsible for Fergus’s current state — howled in response. Fiona glared at the group before turning her fury back to her fiancé. “You’re nearly twice the size of most o’ these lads. How could you let them do this ta you?”
The giant seemed to wither under her reproachful stare. “Don’t be like that. The lads are just havin’ a bit o’ fun.”
“I can see that.”
Behind Fergus, jovial whispers were exchanged along with some coins. A dark jug was being passed around. As far as bachelor celebrations went, Doon seemed to have its share of gambling and booze — and we’d been worried about our little party.
Fergus shifted the basket of rocks and rolled his massive shoulders back. From the way he strained, I guessed he’d been doubled over the whole way from the village. “Now, about that kiss.”
In regards to his request, Fiona and Fergus seemed to be at an impasse. She shook her head back and forth as he continued to silently implore her to end his misery. Taking pity on the big Chicken Man, I shouted, “Just kiss him already.”
Vee echoed the sentiment, and soon the entire crowd was chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
With a huff, Fiona stepped forward. Fergus had the sense to look contrite as she hastily touched her lips to his cheek. When she retreated, her mouth was coated with black grime and sprouting a feather. More laughter ensued as she swiped at her lips.
Several of the guys helped to rid Fergus of the basket — it was saying something that it took half a dozen men to lift it. With a grateful sigh, Fergus straightened up.
Fiona pointed a tiny finger at Jamie and Duncan. “I’m holding the two of you personally responsible. When next I see my betrothed, he better be as pink as the day he came inta this world, or I’m going to treacle and feather you.”
“No worries, Fiona,” Jamie said between bursts of laugher. “Our next stop is Loch Doon.”
“We’ll see tha — ” Duncan clutched his brother’s arm in an attempt to straighten up enough to talk. “We’ll see — that he gets washed up — right proper.”
“You better.” With those words, Fiona pivoted on her heels and charged back into the castle. As soon as she left, the crowd began to disperse. Emily and several other girls who’d been invited to the bachelorette party headed inside. Fergus went the opposite way — lamenting something about the temperature of the lake — with most of the instigators cheerfully following.
Jamie sauntered over to Vee, grinning smoothly as he said, “Give us a kiss, my queen.” Vee giggled, and a second later they were enacting the sequel to their gum commercial.
Not eager to witness another marathon make-out session, I turned to go when large hands grabbed my waist. Duncan spun me around so that I was pressed against him. He stared down at me with his wide, lopsided smile and murmured, “We’re supposed to be in love, you and I.”
Although I couldn’t see her, I could sense Analisa lurking around the fringes. She was probably waiting out the necessary PDA to set up another clandestine meeting with my fake boyfriend.
Suddenly, it all felt like too much. Double lives, covert trips to the witches’ epicenter of evil, trying to save a world that didn’t know it was on the brink of extinction — the lies were everywhere. Actress or not, how in the midst of everything going on could I just cut loose and have a good time? How could Duncan?
Careful not to make a scene, I whispered, “How can you just act like everything is normal? I’m busting my butt to try and save your kingdom and you’re busy — what, hazing Fergus? Do you even care?”
His smile vanished. “I care, Mackenna. Probably more than ye can even comprehend. But the minute I start acting like my world is coming to an end is the moment our enemy wins. I recently realized that if I were to die, I would have two major regrets. One of them is not truly living each and every moment when I had the chance.”
“What’s the other?”
The tips of his fingers brushed my hair as they tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. “I’ll tell ye that after you save Doon.” He closed the distance between us to press his warm, cidery lips briefly to mine. “In the meantime, do what you can, and when you canna do any more, pause to honor the people in your life that make it worth living.” Then he let me go to rejoin his merry band of troublemakers.
Duncan was right. I was eighteen and might only have a week or two left. Tonight, I couldn’t stop the limbus, but I could be present with the people I cared about. I could celebrate their lives and my own while I had the chance.
As I climbed the stairs to the turret, I hummed along to the Broadway radio in my head. Kim and Conrad were right, I had a lot of living to do. I wouldn’t hide in a corner wasting what little time I might have left.
Foot washing, mani-pedis, and presents out of the way, the evening transitioned from wedding shower to bachelorette party. We’d danced half the night away, the fairest single ladies in the land undulating under the improvised disco ball to music from the tiny speaker of Vee’s solar-charged iPhone. In the wee hours of the morning, Jamie crashed the party, instantly turning it from a girl-power rave into prom night.
Analisa ducked out as soon as our little soiree turned coed but I refused to think about where she’d gone. The rest of the guests then left in clusters, with Gabriella Rosetti bringing up the rear. Which left me to assume cleanup duty with Fiona while Vee and Jamie slow danced in the corner. Not that I was jealous or anything — Vee deserved to be with the one she loved.
Fiona wiggled her violet fingernails at me. “I quite fancy this Twilight Orchid.” Her voice had that overly loud, post-clubbing quality. Even with our primitive resources, she’d partied like a twenty-firs
t century rock star. After the Chicken Man hijinks and her mom’s hijacking of the wedding plans, the girl deserved to blow off a little steam.
I cleared the manicure station, trashing little blobs of wool and placing bottles of polish in a small basket. About halfway through my task, Duncan, shouting from somewhere outside the tower, shattered the early morning calm. He called my name at the top of his lungs.
Everyone froze. When he called out again, Fiona made a tsking sound and she crossed to the window overlooking the courtyard. “Not again.”
Jamie followed, crowding the windowsill so that my only view was the back of his head. “I warned him about knowing his limit. He clearly didna listen.”
Vee, who’d started nervously tidying up her surroundings, looked everywhere but at me as she added, “Does he ever?”
The way they spoke — it was like Duncan was some lost cause in need of an intervention, not a caring, loyal prince who’d do just about anything for anyone. I raised myself up on tiptoe, but it wasn’t enough to see out. “Is he okay?”
Jamie turned away from the window, his expression guarded. “He’s fine. Just soused is all.”
As in drunk? To prove his brother’s point, Duncan bellowed my name again. With Jamie gone, I rushed forward. Fiona moved out of the way, and I looked down to see Duncan standing in the middle of the courtyard with his face lifted toward the sky.
Scotland’s legal drinking age was eighteen. And in Doon, which was more medieval than modern, to drink one only needed to be “of age” . . . Whatever that meant. Even though Duncan could legally drink by both standards, I knew he didn’t approve of drunkenness. At least, the boy I used to know didn’t.
While I watched, he threw his head back and yelled my name with so much force that he was thrown off balance. After staggering a couple of steps, he recovered and bellowed again.
I’d seen enough. Turning back, I frowned at my friends. “Has he done this before? Gotten drunk and shouted some girl’s name at the top of his lungs?”