Forever Doon Page 9

  “No.” But maybe what I wanted wasn’t the most important factor. “Ana is way more qualified in breaking and entering. And if something happens to me, who’s going to lead the people? Take out the witch?”

  Kenna’s virtual doppelgänger began to blur at the edges. “I have faith that you’ll figure it out.” She waved. “See ya later, Wonder Woman!”

  I stumbled toward her fading image. “Wait! Please, don’t go . . .”

  The scene reset and I lifted my arm to throw the axe at the target.

  “Straighten yer wrist, Verranica.”

  The blood froze in my veins. I’d recognize that honeyed brogue if I were six feet under and had worms crawling in and out of my ears. I shifted my gaze to see Jamie, in all his kilted glory, leaning against a tree, one booted foot crossed in front of the other. His intense, dark gaze captured mine, connecting to my soul. In that way only he could.

  And my heart imploded. This isn’t real. It’s just a dream. It isn’t real. He’s gone.

  “ ’Tis no’ a dream, love. We are connected by our Calling.”

  Not anymore. I forced my gaze away from him, straightened my wrist, and threw the axe. It hit the target dead center.

  “Tha’s it.”

  “You need to go. I can’t handle this.” My voice broke before I could continue. “In my dreams is one thing, but a waking vision . . . I . . . that’s something else.” I couldn’t start seeing him around every corner, like I had before I came to Doon. My precarious sanity—my fragile strength—couldn’t take it.

  “I’m here for a reason.” He pushed off the tree and strode forward, extending his hand. “To show ye somethin’.” He reached toward me.

  I stared at his strong fingers, broad palm marked by a map of callouses—real in every vivid detail. I lifted my gaze to the glow of his golden-brown eyes and his lips quirked, drawing out a dimple in his right cheek.

  Forget strength! If this wasn’t real, I never wanted to wake up.

  I rushed forward and reached for him. The moment our fingers touched, images exploded across my eyes.

  I’m in the shadowed antechamber of the royal chapel.

  I turn in a slow circle.

  There are walls and walls of cubbies, sealed with hundreds of tiny doors.

  Jamie’s voice echoes inside me. “Use the ring.”

  I lift my hand, and the ruby ignites.

  One cubby glows red, and then the door springs open.

  Inside is a single vile of crystal-blue water.

  My eyes snapped open to Ewan’s grinning face, his hand extended. Analisa appeared beside him. “That was quite the spectacular dismount, Highney.”

  Oliver laughed. “But she hit the mark, didn’t she?”

  I had to have been unconscious for quite a while. I’d spoken to Kenna. Then Jamie appeared. And then the vision. The vision! “How long was I out?”

  Ewan cocked his head. “Out?”

  I took his hand and allowed him to pull me upright. “Yeah, how long was I unconscious?”

  My friends exchanged anxious glances above my head, and then Analisa squatted down in front of me, her sharp gaze searching my face. “You fell only seconds ago.”

  Chills raced over my shoulders. The vision had been real. The Protector brought those I trusted most to show me the way. They’d bolstered my courage and strength. More than that, they’d banished my lingering doubts over the best course of action.

  This risk was mine to take—to do anything less would be bowing to my fear.

  Only I could lead the mission to the castle.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jamie

  I awoke on my stomach, my face pressed into something soft and clean. A slow smile stretched my lips. Vee had visited my dreams, just as she had before coming to Doon. Her hair was pulled tight off her heart-shaped face, and she’d looked especially appealing as she bit her bottom lip just before throwing a wee axe.

  My eyes popped open to darkness. I’d shown her how to find a specific item in the royal chapel. What, I couldn’t recall, only that it held great significance. But her reaction to seeing me had been off. She’d appeared angry, almost belligerent, and worse . . . unbelieving. Had Addie told the truth about Veronica believing me dead?

  Raising a hand to comb the hair from my eyes, my arm moved without restraint. Pain free and well rested, my body hummed with energy. An unexpected blessing, and one that I was sure did not come without cost.

  Cautiously, I pushed myself up, expecting soreness or broken bones. Though the brands on my chest and arm still throbbed, nothing seemed seriously injured. I reclined on a double bed in an unfamiliar room. The curtains were drawn tight, allowing a narrow sliver of sunlight to slant across the stone floor. A washstand, small table, and straight-back chair made the room feel sparse. Perhaps one of the old servant rooms in the south wing?

  I moved to a seated position, the quilt falling to my waist. The blanket shifted to reveal clean trousers, my filthy, bloodstained kilt and shirt long gone. Someone had changed and bathed me, and I didn’t remember a moment of it.

  That’s when the memory hit. Sean. I slumped back, my arms refusing to support my weight as something inside my chest fell away. I’d killed him. Not in self-defense or in the honor of battle. He’d been helpless at my feet when I’d slit his throat. I pushed my palms against my eyelids, trying to block out the image of his lifeless body, his sightless eyes staring up at me in accusation. I’d murdered a fellow Doonian, and then I’d been healed, given a soft bed and a good night’s sleep as if I were a child rewarded for good behavior.

  Springing up, I swung my legs around and my feet hit a wall—an invisible barrier. I kicked with all my might and my legs bounced back toward my chest. Unsurprised she’d caged me like an animal, I rose on my knees and pounded against the magical cell with my fists—a sting of pain buzzing through me with every punch. I didn’t care. I deserved more than a bit of physical discomfort for what I’d done, but I wasn’t her pet monster to lock up and gawk at, either. “Blast it, Adelaide! Let me out of here. Now!”

  When no response came, I slumped back onto the bed. My thoughts shut down and I just stared for a good long time. How could I have done this? The crown prince—the boy who’d been raised from birth to lead his kingdom and put his people’s needs before his own? My mother’s sweet voice echoed in my head, “Never forget, my son, that there is a price for everythin’. And as our future leader, your decisions weigh heavier than most.”

  I’d lived that adage, been willing to give up my Calling and sacrifice my happiness for the sake of my kingdom if necessary. But Mother never told me what to do when I made the wrong choice. When it was too late to reverse what you’d already done.

  A soft click sounded and I arched up, facing the door as it slowly swung open. Addie never entered a room with caution. Perhaps it was a servant bringing food, one I could coerce to help me. A dark-haired girl peeked into the room—a girl whose face was imprinted on my very soul. It couldn’t be. My muscles froze as the name tore from my throat: “Verranica?”

  She shut the door behind her and threw the lock. A plain, black cloak covered her from neck to feet, but could not disguise the innate grace of her movements, the familiar tilt of her head as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom. “Jamie?”

  My heart pounded with such force, it muffled my reply. “Aye, Vee. I’m here!”

  She stepped forward, searching. Her eyes were wide with fear, but the line of her jaw remained set in determination. “Jamie?”

  Could she not see me behind Addie’s magic? She stumbled over to the window and threw the curtains wide. I raised my arm against the onslaught of light, but when she turned back, she looked right past me. “Use the ring. I’m behind a spell, right in front of you.”

  She raised her hand and a flash blinded my already sensitive eyes. Before I could recover, I felt her slight weight on the bed, her thin arms around my neck. “I found you. I found you . . . They told me you were dead, but I refu
sed to believe it.”

  For one delicious moment, I allowed myself to hold her. I ran my hand down the silky length of her hair and pressed the soft skin of her cheek to my neck. I breathed in deep. But her usual sweet scent of honeyed berries was absent. Perhaps the cold air and days camping in the wild had masked it.

  Gripping her arms, I pulled back so I could see her face. Saints, she was even more beautiful than I’d remembered. “I could hold ye forever, but we need to go. Who did ye bring with you?”

  She gave one slow blink, her eyes shifting away and then back. “No one. But we’ll be fine for now. The door’s locked. I just need to touch you.” She reached her palm to cup my face.

  But the weight of what I’d done made me turn away. I didn’t deserve the worshipful look in her eyes. If I told her the truth, would she still look at me the same way? Or would she rear back in fear and disgust?

  “What is it, babe?” Her thumb moved in slow circles against the stubble on my jaw. “Everything will be all right now that we’re together.”

  “No.” I moved away, her normally soothing touch grating against my raw hurt. “Nothin’ will ever be the same. I’m not who you thought I was . . . not who I thought I was.” My throat tightened as I stared at my hands, the hands that had wrapped the chain around Sean’s neck. The hands that had pulled the blade from my own side. The bloody hands that had held his head and slit his throat. And I didn’t think I could ever touch her again.

  Gently, she lifted my chin, forcing me to return her steady blue gaze. “I don’t care what you’ve done. You are my perfect match.”

  Lost in the deep, crystal pools of her eyes, my guilt began to ease and I could breathe again. She rose up onto her knees and leaned toward me, her stare fastened on my mouth, her face filled with longing. A fierce need awakened within me. This is what I needed—to lose myself in her, in us. I rose to meet her, grabbed the back of her head, and captured her lips with mine.

  And almost gagged.

  I jerked back, my head slamming against the wall with the force of my retreat. “What in all that’s holy?” My chest heaved up and down. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying desperately to clear my vision. “You’re no’ Verranica.”

  “Please, don’t be afraid.” She lifted her palm to me. Veronica’s delicate palm.

  I tried to get away, but I could no longer move a muscle, frozen by magic from the neck down. That’s when I knew the girl wearing Veronica’s exquisite face was really the Witch of Doon. “Why?” I sputtered. “Why have ye done this?”

  “To show you that we can be happy together.” She tilted her head, and her perfectly-shaped lips curled into a serene smile.

  The familiar expression hit me in the gut, my own lips longing to respond in kind. Bile rose in my throat. She was not my Veronica.

  “The moment you had Sean on his knees at your mercy, and then met my gaze just before you cut his throat, I knew. I knew you were my equal. The one I’ve been searching for my entire immortal existence.” A violet spark ignited deep in her eyes, transforming the clear turquoise into an unnatural lavender-blue.

  “A Calling canna be—”

  She sprang forward and stopped inches from my face. “Do not speak to me of Callings,” she spat. “They are for the weak-minded who refuse to choose for themselves. Do you really think that yer Calling is valid now that you’ve broken the covenant with your Protector? That your righteous little queen will still want you after what you’ve done?”

  I stared at her hard as Veronica’s musical voice dripped words of poison. “Quiet your blasphemy, witch. I willna hear it.”

  She leaned back on her haunches and took my lifeless hand in both of hers. “Jamie, you murdered one of your own. Committed the gravest sin of your faith. Do you truly believe you’ll be accepted back as the golden crown prince? The shining specimen of honor and virtue?”

  My breath caught and I worked to prevent the impact of her words from showing on my face. A part of me knew she was right, that I could never be the leader I’d been, once confident that others would follow my example.

  She moved closer, her thigh pressed against mine, and she reached up to hook a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve been fighting your base impulses for a long time, Jamie. I’ve been watching. So much delicious anger rolls just beneath the surface. But I accept you with all your flaws. I embrace them.”

  I shook my head and forced my gaze away from her beloved face. “I dinna want your acceptance.” But with every word she spoke, my heart crumbled under the tremendous weight of my guilt. The images of Sean’s brothers and his sweet ma, whom I’d known my entire life, flooded my vision. What would I tell them? How could I explain?

  Veronica’s wee hand brushed along my cheek, igniting a tingle across my skin, and I clenched my jaw against my body’s betrayal.

  “We could be happy, you and I. We could lead the people into a new era of freedoms and pleasures they’ve never been allowed. We would rule side by side as equals.” Her gaze ran over me from head to toe, her eyes heavy, her lips pursed. “I can be the Veronica you’ve always wished for—uninhibited, compliant, yet powerful. And I can share that power with you.”

  I closed my eyes, my only defense when I longed to wrap my hands around her throat. “Get away from me, witch.”

  “I can see that you’re hurting. But through every trial and torture, you’ve remained stronger than I believed possible. You’re a god among men, Jamie MacCrae, and for the first time in my life, I know what love feels like.”

  Love? Surely she was jesting. Desire, maybe, but she was incapable of love.

  Her odd periwinkle eyes glistened in the sunlight and her mouth turned down at the corners, just like Vee’s when she fought back tears. I bit off the words of comfort that rose in my throat.

  “This is a lot for you to accept, I realize. I’ll let you get some rest. I shall return on the morrow, my beautiful warrior.” She leaned in, strands of silky, dark hair clinging to her cheeks as she brushed her lips against my forehead, and I had to work hard not to weep like a babe. This was not Veronica. Not my Veronica. But my soul ached for her so desperately that I watched her every movement like a starving man at a banquet as she crawled off the bed and glided across the room.

  At the door, she turned back, and her eyes narrowed in a purely Addie expression. “I’ve endured unimaginable loss. Plotted and schemed for centuries in order to gain vengeance and sit on the throne of Doon. I can wait out one strong-willed prince. Inevitably, you will see that you belong to me.” She blew me a kiss and then slipped out. I heard the bolt slide home and her spell fell away, my capacity to move returning by slow degrees. But when I scooted to the edge of the bed, the invisible wall had returned. Apparently, her claim of love didn’t extend to trust. Not that Adelaide Blackmore Cadell had the slightest grasp of true love—the kind of love that would sacrifice anything for the other person.

  I sagged against the mattress; the interaction with Addie-Vee had drained what little energy reserves I’d gained after my ordeal. Perhaps I could win Addie’s confidence, let her believe I cared for her, and then stop her once and for all. Even if she took me down with her, the loss of my life would be well worth what Doon would gain.

  Eventually, my morose thoughts drifted into a dreamless sleep, and sometime later three knocks in quick succession startled me awake. I responded without thinking, “Come in.” As if I had a choice in the matter.

  The door swung wide and Gideon’s bald head caught a glint of the setting sun as he brought a tray of food into the room. He stopped at the foot of my bed, grinning like a jackal, then practically shouted, “Oh, how I love the sight of the powerful Laird brought low!”

  I pushed up to a sitting position. “Come to rub salt in my wounds, Gideon?”

  The ex-commander of the royal guard nodded, the smile never leaving his disfigured face as he set the tray on a table beside the bed. He glanced over his shoulder and then said in the conversational tone of one discussing the wea
ther, “I’ve no clue how ye think ye’re goin’ to defeat her, when she’s beginning to amass an undead army.”

  Straightening, I watched the older man arrange the silverware on the tray. What drivel was he spewing now? He met my gaze, the smile melting into a resolute stare. “She plans ta release them in a fortnight.”

  Was he feeding me information? My pulse quickened as I thought back. At the coronation ceremony, when Addie revealed herself, Gideon had jumped to join her side before she could enthrall him. He’d taken young Greta captive at knifepoint, but he hadn’t hurt her. “What are ye tellin’ me, commander?”

  He stepped closer, his voice hushed. “A mass grave of Druids near the southern tarn is bein’ unearthed. But I’ve determined she needs souls to feed her power. For every human she drains, she can reanimate at least a dozen cadavers.” His eyes darted to the door. “She’ll need more souls, and soon. The dungeons are near empty.”

  I searched his face, a terrible hope growing inside me. “Why are ye divulging this to me?”

  Gideon glanced at the still-open door and then dropped into a low bow. When he rose, his hazel eyes burned with fever. “I am loyal to Doon still, my Laird.”

  Nearly choking on my surge of emotion at his confession, I swallowed and forced myself to think. “So she’s desperate to find whatever Doonians remain in the kingdom and convince them to pledge to her so she can use them to raise her army?”

  “Aye. She’ll herd them and capture those she can without killin’ them. She needs people left to rule, after all.”

  I nodded, several pieces clicking into place all at once as I remembered Vee’s vision the night of the Fairshaw cottage explosion. “Verranica sent my brother across the bridge with the others to save them, dinna she?”

  “That is my belief, aye.”

  “Do we know how many Doonians escaped?”

  “Nay. Between the quake and the destruction of the bridge itself, we—”

  “What?” I sat straight up.

  “Tha’s right, ye didna know.” The old man shook his head. “The witch destroyed the Brig o’ Doon, Laird. Whilst people were attemptin’ to cross it.”