by Carey Corp
CHAPTER 6
Veronica
The comforting aroma of tangy tomato sauce and rising pizza dough made the Rosetti Tavern the ideal setting for my meeting with the small group of Destined who’d managed to cross the Brig o’ Doon during the last chaotic Centennial. The familiarity of the place seemed to put all of us at ease. Pizza: the great equalizer.
But at that moment, even the anticipatory growl of my stomach couldn’t hold my attention. After last night’s lengthy discussion with my advisors about the border hazards and the recent disappearances, not to mention Jamie and me fighting about what we should tell the kingdom, the voices at the table droned into a lullaby. I sat up straighter and rubbed the tiredness from my eyes.
While Jamie and I both agreed the limbus had Addie’s name written all over it, the stubborn boy insisted we shouldn’t tell the people. I’d wanted to disclose everything to the Doonians even before Duncan left, but Jamie had argued against telling them until we knew more. My prince had been born a leader, he was brilliant and charismatic, just a few of the reasons I’d fallen so hard for him, but those same qualities made him extremely hard to oppose when he set his mind to something. So it was no surprise that my advisors had agreed with Jamie to keep things quiet.
At least for now the limbus appeared to be isolated, and we’d stationed a few trusted guards around the area, so I needed to focus on the task at hand. I desperately wanted to help the individuals before me assimilate and come to love Doon as much as I did. Becoming queen and even accepting my Calling hadn’t been a leisurely afternoon at the mall. Like everything in my life, I’d had to fight tooth and nail for both. But I hoped to make their transition a bit smoother.
My gaze wandered over the handful of Destined at the table. A few of the individuals, like the environmental scientist from Dublin and the Australian inventor beside him, wouldn’t need much guidance. Both men carried themselves with a confidence born of knowing their place in the world, not unlike my BFF.
A part of me used to envy Kenna that insight. The girl had practically tap danced from the womb singing “All That Jazz,” her dream to act hardwired into her DNA. Now I realized that knowing your purpose — even being born with it — didn’t make your path easy. All it did was illuminate the obstacles and motivate you to traverse them with a fiercer determination. But everyone needed to learn that firsthand, including the individuals before me. The most I could do was guide them in the right direction.
With a solid clunk, a frost-coated mug appeared before me, and I was startled into alertness, my ears tuning back into the conversation.
“. . . it’s quite clear you lot were Called here for some brilliant purpose or epic love story. But what use could Doon have for a vagabond, document forger, d’you think?” Analisa Morimoto tucked the silky curtain of her asymmetrical bob behind one ear and searched the table, her dark, probing gaze settling on me.
The sixteen-year-old was fresh off the streets of London. From what I’d gathered, her home life had been plagued with absentee parents lost to drug addiction and prison. She’d barely survived by counterfeiting various documents. If anybody needed a clean start, it was this girl.
So I pushed off my exhaustion and attempted a trick I’d learned in college-prep psychology. “So you’re looking for your purpose beyond helping Duncan that one time, and you aren’t sure where you fit in.”
“Right.” Analisa let out a slow breath. It was like watching the liquid leak out of a water balloon as the tension left her body and she slumped back in her seat.
I hadn’t given the girl a single solution, and yet her relief was almost palpable, simply because she felt understood. Maybe all those extra courses hadn’t been a waste of time after all, even if I’d never set foot in a college now.
“Analisa should report to the printing press first thing in the mornin’.” Jamie’s deep voice traveled over me from behind as his warm hands settled on my shoulders. Residual anger from the night before made me stiffen. Our “discussion” had ended with us stalking to our rooms on opposite ends of the castle.
As his thumbs found the knots in my neck and began to rotate with just the right amount of pressure, I could feel the apology in his touch melting away my irritation. He continued to speak to Analisa. “The MacGowans could use a bit o’ updatin’ in their process.”
Analisa’s exotic looks transformed into true beauty as she beamed a smile at the boy standing behind me. “Thank you, Prince MacCrae. Will they welcome help from me, d’you think?”
Although I knew Jamie was trying to be helpful, I had hoped to get Analisa to come to this conclusion on her own. If it was her idea, she’d be more committed to it. The comforting weight of Jamie’s hands left my shoulders, and he pulled a straight-backed chair over from another table, flipped it around, and straddled it, so close his knee touched my thigh.
“If they don’t welcome your assistance, let me know, eh?”
Analisa nodded eagerly as two steaming pizzas were delivered to our table. The group dug into the pies and Jamie leaned over to me, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry you were absolutely wrong,” I blinked at him with a syrupy-sweet smile. “Or you’re sorry you’re such a mule-headed jerk?”
“Er . . . both?” One of his brows arched as the same side of his mouth kicked up in a dopy, optimistic smile.
I giggled. His goofy sense of humor, a side of his personality that he only seemed to let show when we were together, melted me every time.
“I’ll take that to mean I’m forgiven.”
I reached over, clasping his large fingers in mine, and nodded, wondering if there was anything this boy could do that I wouldn’t forgive if he asked. As he tugged on my hand, moving my chair so our legs were flush, I noticed he’d left his weapons belt behind for once — hopefully anticipating a peaceful dinner. The group at the table laughed at a joke the inventor was telling about a wallaby and a croc, but as I looked around at their smiling faces, I couldn’t forget that we were missing one.
I leaned into Jamie and whispered, “Have you seen Emily Roosevelt? I haven’t spoken with her since I had to break the news about Drew’s . . . er . . . disappearance.” Emily was a shy young woman who’d been Called to Doon via dreams of Drew Forrester. Drew’s brother was still in the hospital in a medically induced coma, leaving everyone with the impression Drew had died in a milling accident. But our story didn’t change the fact that Emily’s sole reason for coming to Doon had been sucked into the evil abyss. The thought that somehow that wicked witch, Addie, was still hurting us even after I’d stripped her of her powers, made a boiling heat race through my soul.
“Thas why I’m late, actually. I found Emily sitting outside the tavern cryin’.” Jamie’s dark eyes clouded with concern as he shoved a hand through the burnished waves of his hair.
“What did you say to her?”
“I dinna rightly know.” His mouth curled in a self-deprecating smile. “Some gibberish about helping her carve out a new life here. Ye know I canna handle tears.”
“I recall you handling mine quite well.” Memories of his lips on my eyes and cheeks, kissing away my grief after I realized I might never see Kenna again, sent a warm flush over my skin.
Jamie drifted closer, his eyelids growing heavy as he lifted a dark curl from my shoulder and wrapped it around his fingers. “Yer the exception, love.”
“Ex-excuse me.” Emily stood on the other side of the table wringing her hands. “May I join you?”
“Of course!” I jerked away from Jamie with a squeak.
“Certainly.” Jamie rose, spun his chair around for the girl, grabbed another, and moved to sit on the other side of the table.
Emily dropped heavily into the seat beside me, brushed her light-brown bangs out of her puffy eyes, and grabbed a napkin off the table. She blew her nose with several loud honks. I took a couple of plates and set them in front of us while I waited for her to compose herself. All I could think to say was, “Ah
. . . would you like some pizza?”
“No-no, thank you.” She stuttered through the hiccups shaking her chest.
I slid a slice of pepperoni onto my plate and just stared at it. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk.” I couldn’t even imagine what she must be feeling. If I’d crossed the Brig o’ Doon only to have my reason for coming here ripped away — Jamie gone forever — there would be no words that could lessen my pain.
Emily grew still beside me, her next words pouring out in a rush. “How could your Protector lead me here and then take my soul mate from me? It isn’t fair. I have nothing now. Nothing!” She buried her head in her hands, sobs shaking her shoulders.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I reached over to rub her back in slow circles. She was right. It wasn’t fair. But the deadly limbus had nothing to do with Doon’s Protector. I said a quick prayer for guidance and reached my arm around her plump shoulders. “You’re not alone, Emily. In fact, I was wondering if you’d be interested in moving into the castle.”
She stopped crying, and a hazel eye peeked at me through her fingers. “Really?” came her muffled reply.
I gave her a small smile. “Absolutely. There’s a role I’ve been trying to fill on my staff, but I haven’t found the right person. I think a fellow American would be perfect. Would you like to be my personal assistant?” It was true. I’d realized there was just too much to do in a given day for me to handle, even with Fiona’s help.
Emily straightened and lowered her hands. “I would love that.”
A quiet warning pinged in the back of my mind telling me I had no clue as to her qualifications for the role or even if we would get along, but when I saw the stark gratitude shining from her face, I pushed aside my doubts. “Then the job is yours.”
“Oh, thank you, Queen Veronica!” Emily threw her arms around me in a tight hug. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
She released me with a tearful sniffle, and I noticed Jamie hovering behind us. His posture ridged, his expression like granite. Not a good sign.
“We have to go.” He took the back of my chair and slid it out. “Now.”
Startled, I shot to my feet. “What — ?”
Sharron Rosetti, one of the owners of the tavern, rushed over to us. “They seem ta be content to loiter outside. Fer now.”
“Who?” I demanded. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
Jamie ignored me. “Where’s Mario?”
Sharron’s normally rosy cheeks were washed of color as she whispered, “He’s out there with some of my boys and Gideon, tryin’ ta reason with them.”
My gaze flew to Jamie. “Gideon?” The former captain of the guard had been doing everything within his power to prove his loyalty to the crown after being released from the witch’s power, but I wasn’t yet sure if I could trust him.
“Aye. He’s trying to talk them down.”
I glanced toward the front of the tavern. Jerky, agitated bodies milled about in front of the windows. As the room hushed and people peered outside, the sound of their raised voices resounded in the tavern. My stomach tightened. They were chanting, “Not our queen!”
“What can I do?” The Australian shot to his feet. Judging from his wiry muscles and dark tan, he hadn’t spent his entire life indoors fiddling with his inventions. Analisa stood beside him, her narrowed eyes flashing like a jungle cat’s. “Come on. We’ll sort them out.” She punched him on the arm as they headed toward the door.
“Wait!” My two would-be-defenders stopped and turned at the sound of my voice. “I’ll go speak to them.”
“No.” Jamie’s voice was as unyielding as stone as he stepped in front of me, his eyes turbulent. “I’m sorry, Verranica, but I canna allow you to go out there. These are some of the same men who attacked us outside this verra tavern not three months past. And they’re drunk and wantin’ trouble.”
“How many are there?”
“A half dozen, but — ”
“I’m their queen. It doesn’t matter if there are six or six hundred. They’ll never respect me if I run away.” I gripped Jamie’s arm. “I need to face them.”
“Then I’ll have my men round them up and bring them to your throne room in chains.”
“That wouldn’t do any good at all! If I talk to them, I know I can make them see that I only want what’s best for Doon.” How could I get through to this bullheaded boy? He was only trying to protect me. But protection was not what I needed. “If you arrest them it would just prove their point.”
“And I’d prove mine. They canna get away with this foolhardy behavior,” Jamie practically snarled.
“You can go with me.” I tilted my head with a slow smile and stepped toward him while looking up into his eyes. “They won’t hurt me if you’re there.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. My mom had a history of changing for the various men in her life. Like a chameleon, she would become whatever her current boyfriend needed — from instant vegan to NASCAR fan to marathon runner. But when Janet really wanted something, she’d manipulate them with a cute smile and a bat of her eyelashes. Exactly what I’d just done.
I watched in horror as Jamie’s face softened and his shoulders relaxed in response to my flirtation. But it only took a moment before he snapped back to attention and took my arm.
“Right. And what if I’m no’ in the right place to take a blow to the head for you this time? We’re leaving. Now.” He reached down in the blink of an eye and pulled a wicked-looking dagger from his boot. So much for my delusions that he’d come to our dinner party in peace.
Jamie addressed the table, “All of you, stay here until things die down and then get straight to your rooms. Sharron, give me five minutes, then let Mario and your boys know we’ve gone.”
He turned toward the back of the restaurant towing me behind him, but I dug in my heels, my pulse pounding so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. He was doing it again — taking control. Had he only been playing at me being queen? Letting me be the figurehead while he still made all the decisions? I stabbed my fingernails into his muscled forearm, causing him to stop and turn around. “I’m not going.”
“Aye, you are.”
I set my jaw and met his blazing stare. I refused to cave to Jamie’s will like some stage-four clinger. Like Janet. “Last time I checked, I was the ruler of Doon. Not. You.”
He dropped my arm and blanched like I’d punched him in the gut. I pushed aside a sudden wave of guilt and plowed ahead. “I’m ordering you, as your queen, to allow me to speak to these men. You’ve earned their trust, now it’s my turn.” Something in Jamie’s face shifted with understanding or maybe respect. I pressed on, “If you wish to accompany me, that’s fine. But I have to do this.”
I spun on my heel and got about three steps before I was jerked around and swept off my feet.
Jamie hoisted me onto his shoulder like a sack of flour, the air leaving my diaphragm with a whoosh. “We may not be married yet, but when you chose me as your future coruler, you relinquished any authority over me,” he hissed, his arms clamped around my thighs like iron bars. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or no’.”
It certainly didn’t feel like we were in this together. “Let me go you . . . you brainless Neanderthal!” I pounded my fists against the solid wall of his back, but he didn’t even slow. “I’m not a child!” Despite my statement, tears of helplessness and anger burned in my eyes as he carried me through the steamy kitchen.
“Act like a baby and I’ll treat ye like one. There will be a time and place for you to address your opposition. But not if you’re dead.”
The still-functioning part of my brain found the warped logic in that statement, and I stopped fighting him, which made the hard shoulder digging into my stomach marginally less uncomfortable. As we passed the huge stone ovens, whoops and cheers from the kitchen staff made it clear they thought we were off on some lovers tryst. Perpetuating their assumpt
ions, Jamie raised his free arm in a fist pump of male solidarity.
The blood that had rushed to my face burned even hotter. Obnoxious git. Using all my strength, I worked my legs against his torso, trying to give him a good kick-ball-change. But his hold was too tight.
We pushed through the back door, and the angry chants reached us through the cool night air. From the sound of it, the small group had grown into a mob. I felt the thump of Jamie’s heart escalating against the palm I had pressed to his back. “Not our queen!” “Down wit’ the American!” “She’s brought evil here!”
A hard shiver racked through me, causing Jamie to grasp me tighter and quicken his steps. These men didn’t even know about the deteriorating borders.
Hearing the dissention and even fear in the protestor’s voices, I had to wonder what they would do when the truth came to light. Storm the castle and remove me from the throne? Tie me to a pole and dunk me in the loch to see if I would drown?
The musky scent of horses mixed with sweet hay told me we’d reached the stables. Jamie stepped into the dim interior, and I could feel his indecision.
“You can put me down now. I won’t go back.”
He hesitated.
“I promise.”
Slowly, he guided my body down the length of his until my feet touched the ground. I pushed the riotous waves of hair out of my face and rubbed a palm against my aching stomach muscles as I backed away from him. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Jamie’s face was set in hard, determined lines, the torch light casting shadows beneath his cheekbones, making them appear white against his skin. He crossed his arms and spread his feet, clearly preparing for a fight.
Our gazes locked. Then a trace of remorse lightened his eyes and his shoulders slumped.
“Vee, I’m sorry. I’m no’ sorry I protected you, but back in the kitchen . . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “I dinna want them to know we were fighting.”
So he cared more about people’s perceptions than my feelings? An icy wave of detachment swept through me, leaving me empty. I was too tired for his Heathcliff routine tonight. What I needed from him was comfort and support, things he couldn’t seem to give me. Turning my back, I found the beautiful mare he’d gifted to me what seemed like years ago. I reached up to stroke the white diamond of silky fur on Snow’s head, and she nuzzled into my hand. My chest ached as I slipped inside the stall and pressed my face into her warm neck. Jamie was so close that I could hear him saddling his horse beside us, but it felt as if we were worlds apart.
