by Carey Corp
He pointed across the chasm. The other side didn’t look nearly as steep. Rocks jutted out at regular intervals to create a natural staircase. “See that outcropping on the other side? It’s about five feet away. I think we can jump across. From there, the climb up to the top should be easy.”
“You want to jump over the limbus?”
He was delusional. There was no way I could make that leap. When I told him so, he stated, “I can. We’ll leap together.”
“I can’t.”
Towering over me like a drill sergeant, Duncan barked, “Ye can and ye shall. You just lifted a lad more than twice your size. You can do this.”
While I silently debated my options, another patch of petunias sprouted at the far end of the ledge. We certainly couldn’t stay where we were. With no choice and no other options, I agreed with a nod. “How are we going to do this?”
Duncan pointed to the flower-infested end of our little shelf. “We start there. Run diagonally across the ledge and launch ourselves off the edge. That should enable us to reach the other side.”
“Okay. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.” I’d had enough of these Fear Factor stunts — and I was beyond anxious to get this final one over with. I moved to the far end, careful not to step on the flowers while Duncan slung both our bags over one shoulder.
When he joined me, he started to curl his arm around my back and then hesitated. “May I make another exception?”
Geez! I grabbed his hand and slipped it around my back. Then I wrapped my arm tightly around his waist. “This time I touched you. Now come on.”
He peered into my eyes. “Go on three.”
I nodded and he began to count. “One . . . two . . . three.”
We dashed across the outcropping, and just before we hit dead air Duncan pushed off from the edge. In half a second, I knew we would reach the other side. As soon as we did, Duncan lost his footing. I slipped from his grasp and stumbled forward, smashing my head into a boulder. Pain burst through my skull at the same instant that Duncan shouted my name. I ricocheted off the rock and fell backward. An instant after I felt myself toppling toward the bottom of the limbus-covered ravine, steady arms grabbed me.
Duncan’s shocked face filled my vision, but the world surrounding him grew fuzzy around the edges. Like in a dream, I sensed his hand touch my temple. Then I surrendered to spinning blackness, and as I did, I could’ve swore I’d heard him say, “I’ll be making another exception.”
CHAPTER 8
Mackenna
Cradled against Duncan’s chest, I listened to the soothing percussion of his heart. Ba-boom, ba-boom. All the difficulties of the journey, all the tension in our relationship, seemed far away. When he stopped and gently lowered me into soft blankets, I clutched his shirt, pulling him down. My head felt pretty jacked up, my right temple throbbing with each breath. But despite the pain, my senses were achingly aware of the boy reclining at my side — his amazing scent, the delicious warmth of his skin, the confident yet vulnerable expression in his huge brown eyes as he hovered over me.
My eyelids fluttered closed as he eliminated the distance between us. Without a word, he pressed his lips to mine. His tongue caressed my lips in a kiss that was surprisingly . . . juicy?
I blinked against the shifting light. Rays of amber sunshine, thick with floating dust motes, cut diagonally above my head. I rubbed my eyes and peered into the gloom, trying to figure out exactly where I was.
As I struggled to focus, the variant angles of light and darkness reformed into the heavy crossbeams and wooden supports of a hayloft. In confirmation of my assumption, a cow lowed. I arched my neck to look behind me as a giant tongue swiped my nose and cheek.
Ewww! I was being kissed by a bovine with no sense of boundaries. Pushing Elsie the Amorous Cow out of the way, I sat up and searched for Duncan.
Next to me, the hay vibrated in a deep, rumbling snore that caused the previous night to come back in a montage of images. I’d hit my head against a rock when we’d jumped the ravine — that much I remembered. Then I’d drifted in and out of consciousness in Duncan’s arms as he’d carried me out of the mountains. The last thing I thought I recalled was him lowering me onto a blanket — presumably in this barn. I could have sworn he kissed my temple as he whispered, “Sleep, my beloved.”
But my memories might’ve been compromised by the pervy cow. Confirming my suspicions, Elsie snuffled my hair and tongued my ear. I sooo didn’t swing that way but lacked bovine vocab to tell her so. Scooting away, I hissed, “Get off.”
Duncan sat upright, instantly alert, his posture rigid as he went into warrior mode. His dark eyes scanned the interior of the barn, taking in our surroundings in the span of a heartbeat. With no enemy in sight, he visibly relaxed. “Are ye all right, Mackenna?”
“I’m fine.”
“I thought I heard something.”
I glanced at Elsie, who batted her lashes innocently. Her large brown eyes looked suspiciously like the ones from my dream. Not about to admit I’d gotten action from a brazen beast, I mumbled, “The cow mooed.”
Duncan took a deep breath as if trying to untether his mind from the nocturnal world. “I was havin’ a dream. I was a wee lad waitin’ on the . . .” With a troubled glance in my direction, he trailed off.
I knew better than to try and force more than he was willing to share. But I couldn’t help the feeling that the dream had something to do with me. Rather than dwell on what he’d not said, I asked the obvious. “Why are we in this stinky barn?”
“You were injured. It was pourin’ rain, and we needed shelter. Don’t ye remember?”
My memories of the previous evening were jumbled, mixed with vague, crazy dreams and all-too-real barn animals. I shook my head, which was a big mistake. My right temple protested with agonizing throbs that crescendoed into nausea. Shutting my eyes, I steadied my woozy head between both hands.
After a moment, another set of hands gingerly joined mine. “You took a nasty blow to the head. Does it hurt badly?”
“A bit,” I confessed.
“Try not to move more than necessary.” Although he was doing his best to appear authoritative, bits of hay poked out of his disheveled hair at every imaginable angle. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.
Curious about my own hair, I ran my fingers though the length and a rain of straw bits fell around me. Immediately, I sneezed. Not a high-pitched, girly sneeze, but a long, deep one — way too much AH followed by a head-rattling CHOOO. The violent backlash of the sneeze caused me to see stars. Bile filled my mouth with foulness, and I gagged.
Duncan rummaged in his knapsack and then handed me a green, downy leaf. “Here. Chew on this.”
I picked it up, and held it dead-fish-style between two fingers. “What is it?”
His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline in disbelief that I would question his offering. “’Tis mint.”
“Really?” I popped it into my mouth, and instantly savored the burst of spicy goodness that exploded over my taste buds, obliterating the lingering impression of Elsie. “Mmmm.”
“I’m glad ye approve,” Duncan said before chewing on his own leaf.
I didn’t just approve of the Doonian equivalent of gum; I heartily, emphatically lauded it — yes, that was the Doon-appropriate word — I lauded it with every cell in my body. Mouth open wide, I pursed my lips in a perfect O-shape and exhaled at Duncan.
He watched me — or more accurately, my mouth, with a slight frown. For a moment, his index finger brushed absently across his lower lip as he blinked at me. Then with a playful glint in his eyes, he exhaled back. I met his unspoken challenge by blasting him with another burst of minty air. Suddenly we were mere inches apart and laughing. Then abruptly as it started, the laughter stopped.
For a tiny eternity, we considered one another. I could sense the exact moment he started closing off, and grabbed his arm. “Last night is a little jumbled. Did you carry me here?”
Dunc
an quirked his lips into something half smile, half grimace. “Aye.”
“Up out of the ravine?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Elsie, who despite outward appearances was most likely as shocked as I was. “And down the side of a mountain.”
He nodded.
“Was I unconscious?”
“You were in and out. You hit your head pretty hard.”
That I remembered. “Did I say anything?”
He snickered. “You mumbled a fair bit.”
In addition to the nausea, I now had a sinking feeling. “What did I say?”
“You kept saying some lass named Mimi needed Roger and asking if we could jump over the moon.” He glanced away, a faint redness washing over his cheeks. “You also said Marius was an idiot. That he should’ve loved Eponine while he had the chance.”
Of course he’d pick up on my barely coherent Les Mis reference. If I remembered correctly, he kept a first edition written in French among his personal collection. “Well, he should have.”
Duncan leveled his gaze on me. “Marius had given his heart away. ’Twas impossible to have affection for some other lass, even if he wanted to.”
“Agree to disagree.” Of course he’d pick pretty, perfect Cosette’s side. ’Ponine was a work in progress, full of passion and life. She deserved more than to die in the rain in the arms of someone who could never be hers. “He fell in love with the wrong girl in the first place.”
His face was an inscrutable mask as he conceded, “Perhaps.”
He started to get up, and I stood alongside of him. “You saved my life last night. But I also saved yours.” Before he could remind me that he’d ordered me not to, I added, “In some cultures, we’d be bound to one another for life.”
Duncan opened his mouth, most likely to protest, but I cut him off. “What I’m saying is I owe you but you owe me too. So how about we call a truce?”
His eyebrows lifted, questioning my point and giving me the courage to continue. “I’d really like to put the past behind us and be friends.”
“Friends?” He tried the word on like he’d never heard it before. The soft rustle of barn animals filled the void as I waited Duncan out. Finally, he smiled. “Aye, Mackenna. We can be friends.”
Acting on pure instinct, I hugged him. My hands slid around his chest like they were going home and I pulled him close. Instead of hugging me back, his hands stayed at his side. But he didn’t push me away either, which was progress. Baby steps, I reminded myself. Repairing the damage I’d caused would be a slow process. Unfortunately, patience had never been one of my virtues.
When I finally let go, Duncan began to gather our things. Amazingly, in all the chaos of the previous evening he’d managed to hang on to our bags. I bit back the need to apologize to him for having to heft me and my overstuffed luggage down the side of a mountain. Instead, I wondered aloud, “What time is it?”
“’Tis after noon.” His voice was still a little husky with sleep. “We should eat and get going.”
“Eat what? Hay? Or is there a farm nearby?” A farm would be fantastic. I could already smell the bacon. My mouth began to salivate anticipating fresh-baked bread, fried eggs, and coffee.
Duncan flashed me a self-satisfied grin. “This barn has a store of food, weapons, and useful sundries. We’ve got provisions stashed in stables all over Doon.”
“Because of your war games?”
“Training exercises,” he corrected as he walked to a long wooden chest built into the side of the barn and opened it. He reached inside and grabbed a sword, which he set on the hay bale next to the trunk, followed by a foot-long dagger, a smaller knife, a water pouch, and a green apple.
He also produced a new set of boots, and what looked like fresh clothes. When he was finished, he took the knife and began to slice the apple into quarters.
“Think you got enough weapons there?”
Nonplussed, he paused mid-slice. “Just three . . . A dagger, a sword, and this wee knife.”
“Oh, is that all?” I reached for the water pouch and masked my smirk by taking a long drink.
“Aye.” He looked at me plainly. “Do ye think I should carry more?”
“More?” I wasn’t sure what else he could possibly want — an Uzi or submachine gun maybe. But I was pretty sure those weapons weren’t all that easy to get a hold of — unless a Navy SEAL had crossed over with the new crop of Destined.
He lowered his face to finish cutting and then handed me a piece of apple. “Jamie also carries a hunting bow. ’Tis handy for bears.”
Bears — oh my. I knew Vee’d encountered one, but I chalked it up to Doon trying to stop her from crossing the borders and breaking the Covenant. I never considered there might be more roaming around. “Does Doon have a lot of bears?”
“Nay. And they’re mostly in the highlands. I dinna expect to encounter any this low.”
“What about lions and tigers?”
A deep scowl crossed his face, as if I’d noticed something essential that he’d missed.
“Relax.” I bit into the tangy green apple, finding it better than expected. Usually I hated green, but this wasn’t the time to be picky. “I was just teasing you.”
“Oh.” Duncan popped a slice into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I guess I’m a little out of practice, friend.”
We ate in silence. When we finished, Duncan carefully wiped his knife and placed it alongside the dagger. Taking the pile of fresh clothes, he announced his intention to step outside and change. As he crossed to the door, I noted that his pants ended in tattered ruins like a shipwrecked castaway. His feet were cut and caked with dirt, like he’d walked down the mountain barefoot. Which I guess he had . . .
I was really going to have to make it up to him.
Just before he slipped through the barn doors, Duncan flashed me a mischievous grin. “This is always dangerous territory for a lad, but you might want to freshen up a bit too. We wouldn’t want to scare the townsfolk, would we?” With a wink, he was gone.
I looked down and discovered new depths of mortification. My pink pajama shirt was the color of dung. Several large holes in the fabric exposed my filthy sports bra. My bottoms were equally ragged. And I didn’t even want to think about my face or hair.
I crossed to my bag and pulled out the only other soft clothes I’d thought to pack, another set of jammies. This sleep shirt was black with teal lettering that said “Make musicals, not war.” Quickly, I replaced my destroyed top with the clean one. Then I stepped out of my pink flannel bottoms and into fresh black-and-teal-striped ones. Movement outside a barn window caught my eye, and I looked out just in time to see Duncan strip off his shirt. I caught a glimpse of belly button and smooth, tan abdominal muscles. Holy Marvin Hamlisch and the cast of A Chorus Line, he was an inny — something I’d failed to notice back at Muir Lea.
As much as I wanted to gawk, I forced my gaze away before I got caught looking. Friends don’t ogle other friends. I was fairly certain on this. And I definitely didn’t want him spying on me — at least not in my current state. A moment later, Duncan reentered the barn, fully dressed except his bare feet. For the first time since Muir Lea, his face was alight with expectant energy. “I just need to get on my boots and weapons, then we can depart.”
“Sure.” The sight of Duncan’s stomach — even clothed — caused my skin to feel supercharged and tight. The insides of my knees tingled with little bursts of electric current. I swayed unsteadily, and Duncan’s hand shot out, hovering just under my elbow in case I needed support. He waited as I regained my balance and then stepped away.
I watched in silence as he finished dressing. After slipping on his boots, he sheathed his sword on his left side and strapped the foot-long dagger to his right. Then he slipped the three-inch knife he’d been using to slice apples into his boot.
There were so many things I wanted to apologize for. But I settled on the one I could vocalize without becoming an emotional
basket case. “I’m sorry about your feet.”
“’Tis nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve sustained much worse than this from playing my war games.”
I laughed, liking the easiness between us. Being friends was good. It felt like a positive step toward repairing our relationship. Duncan hefted both our bags, clearly eager to get home. “Ready?”
With a parting nod to Elsie, I headed for the door. Halfway there Duncan stepped in my way. “Mackenna, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Pushing away thoughts of love declarations, I tried to anticipate what one friend would say to another. “Okay. Shoot.”
“No one in Doon knows that I came for you except for the queen, my brother, Fergus, Fiona, and Analisa, who helped with my papers. But even she dinna get the entire story. For now we’re keeping the limbus quiet. There’s enough discord in the kingdom — some of the citizens oppose Veronica being our ruler. Jamie thinks if those people hear that the witch is cursing the land, they might become violent.”
A chill crept up my spine. I remembered all too well the angry mob that we’d faced the last time. “So where do the people think you are?”
This time there was no trace of humor lightening Duncan’s eyes, no sardonic quirk of his lips as he answered, “Training exercise.”
That explained his absence, but my sudden arrival? Even if the hazardous trip had been the opposite of traveling by bubble, the effect might be the same. If I magically appeared in Doon without a good cover story, I might as well be carrying a Wicked umbrella.
CHAPTER 9
Mackenna
Castle MacCrae flickered ahead in the darkness like a beacon. Vee and I had talked every day since kindergarten, even the days after my mom died and her dad went MIA. Even when my dad uprooted me to Arkansas right before senior year.
We’d shared every high and low — the day I got the lead in Once Upon a Mattress; the first time the Fighting Badgers quarterback, Eric Russo, asked her out; me being pursued by Greg the stage tech; her making the cheerleading squad despite Stephanie Heartford’s best efforts to cheerblock her. These past ten months had been dismal without her to start and end my day.
