Destined for Doon

by Carey Corp

  “You okay?”

  She lifted her hand to her brow, shielding herself from the slanting light of the afternoon sun. “Just missing my sunglasses. The sun’s giving me a headache.”

  I chuckled. “I totally see an opportunity to extend the Queen Vee fashion line. Panes of colored glass and wire frames. Very steampunk chic!”

  My bestie smirked on top of the squint so that her eyes disappeared altogether. “That’s not a half-bad idea.”

  “Take it,” I quipped as I looped my arm through hers and steered us down a narrow offshoot of the main path heading away from the sun. “As long as I get half the profits.”

  When she stepped into the shade the tension melted away, allowing her face to open up. “Much better,” she sighed. “So . . . you still haven’t told me what’s going on with you.”

  I dropped her arm and picked up my pace. Vee followed. Waiting me out was one of her specialties, along with figuring out Doonian curses and executing the perfect handspring. After a couple dozen steps, I recognized the setting from my most recent garden encounter with Duncan. “Do you remember the imaginary friend I had when I was little?”

  “How could I forget Finn?” Her forehead puckered, and I knew she was puzzling out what he had to do with my earlier waterworks.

  “Turns out he was no six-foot, three-and-one-half-inch-tall pooka.”

  “A six-footed what?”

  “A pooka, as in Harvey the imaginary rabbit . . . Never mind. I called him Finn because he had a long name I could never remember.” I paused, my words made difficult by the sinking feeling in my stomach. “I’m pretty sure his full name was Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae.”

  Vee stopped in her tracks to blink at me. “Duncan appeared to you when you were little?”

  I nodded. “Every summer for six years.”

  Vee pointed to the lone bench in the enclosure. “Sit!” She waited for me to comply and then sat beside me taking my hand in hers. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t remember until recently — well, when I was in Chicago. It all came back in a rush. Finn and Duncan and all the crazy dreams that — ”

  “What dreams?” Vee gripped my fingers painfully. When I yelped, she eased off, but just slightly. “Sorry — you never mentioned you were having any dreams.”

  I shrugged. “Throughout high school and then right before we left for Scotland. They weren’t as clear as what you had with Jamie and I never saw a face, just a shadow — so I didn’t really think much about them. Until Chicago, when Phantom Duncan started appearing in my day-to-day life like something from a Noel Coward play.”

  Vee regarded me with equal parts shock and amazement as she gently touched my arm. “You and Duncan have a Calling.”

  “It’s worse than that. I’m pretty sure he remembers the time we shared as children. When you and I first stumbled into Doon, I had no clue — but I think he did. Looking back, he dropped all kinds of cryptic hints about our past. There were times he’d look at me so expectantly, as if he were waiting for me to have a revelation. But he never actually said anything. Why didn’t he just tell me?”

  I hunched forward, covering my face with my hands. Vee ran a soothing hand up and down my back, just as she had when I’d learned about my aunt’s death. Although I’d never told anyone, I’d been mourning two losses . . . because in losing Gracie I’d also lost my summers with Finn.

  Vee continued to rub my back. “What did Duncan say when you asked him about it?” When I didn’t answer, she said, “Kenna, you have to talk to him. Before it’s too late.”

  “It’s already too late,” I moaned.

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Of course. I love him so much that every molecule in my body aches. But I blew my chance.”

  “Listen to me. You two share a divine gift. You’re meant to be. Like Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Their relationship started out rocky, and they had to overcome some huge obstacles, like his pride and her prejudice, but it was worth it in the end.”

  At least she hadn’t said Romeo and Juliet. “No. We’ve got too much baggage. He’s trying to move on with Analisa and I’ve moved on with Wes — ”

  Her hand stilled as she said, “That’s total bull. You don’t care about Weston.”

  “Fine. I’m trying to move on without Duncan. So that he can be happy. He deserves that.”

  “What about you Kenna? What do you deserve?”

  Nothing . . .

  As soon as the thought sounded in my head, my resolve crumbled into great heaving sobs. A well of misery burst forth. As much as I wanted to blame Duncan for not speaking up about Finn, it was my mistakes that had cost us everything. It was all my fault. And the price of those selfish actions was any future involving my happily ever after.

  Eventually, Vee led me back to my room and tucked me into bed. My throat ached something fierce, but I was too exhausted to ask for a glass of water. Grateful for the reprieve from my own pity party, I pulled the duvet over my throbbing head, curled into a ball, and willed sleep to suck me into oblivion.

  CHAPTER 22

  Veronica

  The girl slept like the dead. If Kenna didn’t answer my knocks in the next thirty seconds, I was going to have to hunt down Eóran and steal his keys. I knew from experience that denying one’s true feelings was exhausting work, but it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning, and we had a kingdom to save. I raised my fist and hit the wood in quick succession.

  While I was stunned that her imaginary friend, Finn, was actually Duncan, it didn’t take a psychic to read the underlying currents of tension between them. It was almost painful to be in the same room with their fake smiles and clandestine glances. But Tristan and Isolde they were not — at least not if I had anything to say about it.

  Tapping my foot, I counted to ten, and just as I turned to walk away, I heard footsteps and muttering from within.

  The door flew open to reveal my sleep-mussed, squinty-eyed best friend. “What in the — ”

  “Get dressed. I found a guide for the catacombs.” I pushed into the room and shut the door behind me.

  “Okay, Your Bossiness, but not before my coffee.”

  “I’ve already sent for it.” I marched into her bedroom in search of something sensible for her to wear while traversing subterranean tunnels, and stopped cold. “How do you find anything in this mess?” Articles of clothing covered every surface. The dress she’d worn the night before sat crumpled in a ball at the end of the bed.

  Kenna shuffled into the room, and after a wide yawn answered, “I have a system.”

  “Oh yeah?” I arched a brow. “Then where might one find the leggings and tunic I had sent to you?”

  “Oh, that . . .” She wandered around the room kicking piles of cloths. “Oh! I’ve been looking for these!” She held out a pair of pink granny panties with Thursday written in glitter across the front.

  Ignoring her antics, I walked over to the open wardrobe and searched through a multitude of autumn-colored maxi dresses until I found the forest green and brown outfit I was seeking pushed into the corner.

  When I held it out, she took it and eyeballed my royal blue belted tunic and charcoal leggings tucked into sleek, knee-high black boots. “Next time we’re dressing like Robin Hood’s merry band, I’m going to need some of those boots.”

  “These were custom made for me.” I pointed my toe to show off my new footwear. “The process takes almost a month from start to finish. Just say the word, and I’ll take you to the cobbler for a fitting.”

  Silence.

  Kenna pulled her PJ bottoms off, and I went back to straightening, trying not to read anything into her lack of response. Whether to stay or go was her decision, but that didn’t mean I’d roll over and play dead either. A little BFF guidance was in order — when she was ready to hear it. I gathered the stack of folded clothes and reminded myself to fight one battle at a time.

  “So who’s our guide?” Kenna asked as she slipp
ed the tunic over her head, the fabric muffling her words. “And please don’t say the Crypt Keeper.”

  Tales from the Crypt DVDs, chocolate-covered Oreos, and my rainbow mani-pedi kit had been sleepover staples throughout middle school. Ironically, our guide wasn’t too far off from the corpse-like Crypt Keeper puppet. “It’s Gideon.”

  I placed the clothes in the dresser, closed the drawer, and turned to see Kenna frozen with one leg in her pants. “The maniac who accused us of witchcraft, murdered his own men, and tried to frame me for it? That Gideon?” Like a music box wound too tight, her voice grew higher and faster with every word.

  “Gideon was under Addie’s spell, Ken. He didn’t know what he was doing.” I sank into an overstuffed chair and massaged my throbbing temples. Just thinking about what Addie’s spell did to the poor man had nausea rolling through my gut. “Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”

  Kenna shook her head and pulled her leggings the rest of the way on.

  “He looks horrible. Like a cancer patient or something.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. “He’s so remorseful, he’s constantly trying to help me. To prove that he’s not evil.”

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  I squinted to find my friend leaning over me, her brow furrowed.

  “Just tired, I think.”

  A knock echoed through the chamber.

  “Coffee!” Kenna sang and rushed out of the room, looping her hair into a loose ponytail as she ran.

  With a groan, I hoisted myself out of the chair and followed her into the sitting room. Caffeine sounded like heaven.

  Kenna threw open the door to reveal princes bearing coffee and muffins. Damp-haired and smelling like soap, Jamie and Duncan filed into the room and set the breakfast items on a nearby table.

  Kenna turned and shot me a scowl as she smoothed her hair. I shrugged. I didn’t know the brothers were coming up here; they must have hijacked the maid bringing our breakfast.

  Jamie stuffed half of a blueberry confection into his mouth and then said, “We’re meetin’ Gideon at the catacomb entrance in half an hour.” The sight of my handsome prince dropping his veil of perfection never failed to warm my heart.

  I hadn’t told Jamie we were specifically searching for an axe blessed by God and tested in righteous battle. It was a tiny lie of omission, but if I told him, he’d want to see the source of my information. And I couldn’t chance him being implicated for treason alongside me if the kingdom found out I’d traversed the forbidden ground to the witches’ cottage.

  “We’d best be going. We’ve a lot of ground to cover,” Duncan said as he paused to examine the clock on the mantle. It was the first time he’d stopped moving since he’d entered the room.

  Kenna stared at his back, her lips sloping into a frown.

  The defeated set of her shoulders made me want to lock her and Duncan in a very small closet until they admitted their feelings to each other. For a brief moment, I considered it. There were a few dungeon cells I was familiar with that would work nicely . . . Or perhaps the hunting lodge . . . But knowing that stubborn pair, forcing them wouldn’t do a bit of good.

  Abandoning my daydreams, I took Kenna’s arm and steered her toward the table. “We’ll leave after our coffee.”

  “Ewww . . . Why does it smell like Neptune’s butt crack down here?” Kenna asked as we filed out of the staircase into a circular area with tunnels branching off in several directions. She yanked up the neckline of her tunic to cover her nose.

  She was right. It smelled like a large fish had beached itself and died. Not a fan of seafood, the stench made me want to gag.

  “Ye’ll get used to it,” Gideon commented as he cleared cobwebs from the mouth of a passageway with the broom he’d brought.

  Jamie set one of his torches in a bracket at the bottom of the staircase. “’Tis rumored that these catacombs connect to a sea cave at the edge o’ Doon. Duncan and I lost many hours searchin’ for it when we were lads.”

  “That we did.” Duncan, bringing up the rear, was the last to enter the room. “My brother must really love you, Veronica.”

  I met the younger prince’s gaze. The torch he carried illuminated half of his puckish smirk, leaving the other side in deep shadow. “Why’s that?”

  “Duncan . . .” Jamie warned, and as he turned I noticed his normally fluid movements were as jerky as a string-animated puppet.

  “Oh, no reason,” Duncan answered, but the glint of his eye told me I was about to find out. Abruptly, he poked his head down a passage, and let out a quick shout.

  Jamie jolted and stumbled back, almost dropping his torch.

  Grinning like a funhouse clown, Duncan’s laughter reverberated around the room.

  Kenna chuckled, but as soon as she realized she was sharing a joke with the younger prince, the smile dropped from her face and she began fiddling with the strings at the neckline of her tunic.

  Jamie cursed under his breath. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he was a whole shade paler than when we’d started down the stairs.

  So my big, strong prince wasn’t fearless after all. Ignoring his idiotic brother, I moved to Jamie’s side.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and gave me a rueful smile. “I hate this place.”

  Lacing my fingers through his, I bumped my shoulder against his bicep. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  “Let’s get moving.” Gideon finished clearing the passage and retrieved his torch. The flames highlighted the tumorous growths on his skin and the cavernous hollows beneath his cheeks. My eyes jerked away from his ugliness as he continued. ’Tis purported there are hundreds o’ miles o’ tunnels, so we’ll tour a small quadrant this morn’ where I know some artifacts to be stashed.”

  I set my teeth and forced myself to meet his gaze, ashamed by my superficial revulsion. The witch was to blame, not this broken man who’d spent his life in service to the kingdom. “Thank you, Gideon. Please lead on.”

  His shoulders straightened with importance and he bobbed his head. “Aye, Yer Majesty. This way, please.”

  Hand in hand, Jamie and I followed Gideon into a darkness so deep it seemed to swallow our guide’s light, cloaking him in shadow if we didn’t stay right on his tail. The caverns carried an odd, almost reverent silence. The absence of sound, broken only by the echo of our footsteps, seemed intrusive. And unwelcome.

  We reached a divide, and after a brief hesitation Gideon turned to the right. The tightness of the tunnel made it impossible to walk side by side. Jamie released my hand and gestured for me to precede him. But when I glanced back, I caught a furtive movement as he tucked something into his pocket. I turned fully and my lantern reflected on a white dash against the damp wall.

  Not wanting to lose sight of Gideon, I kept walking, but asked, “What was that?”

  “His security blanket.” Duncan chuckled from behind us.

  “Chalk,” Jamie answered, his voice close and tight.

  Relief mixed with admiration as I realized Jamie was marking our path. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Gideon. This was just his way of keeping us all safe — even his dork of a brother.

  “Jamie’s been terrified of ol’ Sawney Bean since we were boys,” Duncan goaded.

  Gideon took another turn, seemingly oblivious to the brother’s bickering.

  I heard the quick strike of the chalk as Jamie retorted, “Aye, and I’m goin’ to fight him off with a wee piece o’ chalk.”

  “Who’s Sawney Bean?” Kenna asked.

  “Sawney Bean captures humans and eats them alive.” Duncan paused and then in a melodramatic tone whispered, “. . . one slow piece at a time. ’Tis rumored that between Sawney and his cannibal descendants, they’ve consumed thousands of Scotsmen. ’Tis why Jamie is afraid of the dark. Right, big brother?”

  “Shut up.” Jamie’s reply held an iron edge as he marked another turn in the passage.

  Despite Duncan’s teasing, it was clear something had Jamie fre
aked — and it wasn’t the Scottish Boogie Man. Was it the catacombs themselves or something more? Countless twists and turns later, I forgot all about Jamie’s anxieties and began to battle my own. I was so disoriented, I felt like Alice following the white rabbit. Each tunnel took us deeper into the labyrinth until I knew even strategic chalk marks wouldn’t help me find my way out.

  We took a jog to the right, and the tunnel narrowed so much that the guys had to stoop to fit. Suddenly I became conscious of every breath. The very real fear that we could run out of oxygen dashed to the forefront of my thoughts. I was on the verge of hyperventilating when the tunnel opened up again. I rushed to follow Gideon into a large round chamber and sucked in a deep breath, relieved to note the air tasted cleaner here — or at least less like low tide on a hot day.

  “This be the King’s Cave.” Gideon began to light torches around the room. Tunnels snaked off in every direction, but they were wider and taller than the one we’d come through. “’Tis where Robert the Bruce hid from his English enemies.”

  I exchanged a pointed glance with Kenna, and then turned back to our guide. “Where do all these passages lead?”

  “Unlike the way we came in, these are antechambers. Each one is a dead end and, like this room, many contain historical items o’ interest.”

  Walking the perimeter of the main chamber, I passed a full suit of armor, a set of archaic wooden tools, and other seemingly random items. In less than two minutes, I could see what we were searching for wasn’t there. But a plan began to form in my mind.

  Maybe I couldn’t lock Kenna and Duncan in a closet together, but perhaps I could give them a bit of alone time. I addressed the group. “I suggest we split up in teams of two. We can each take a chamber. Jamie and I will start on the far left. Kenna and Duncan, you guys start on the right. Give a shout if you find anything interesting.” I turned to see Gideon clearing the webs from the entrance I’d chosen.

  “Gideon, do you mind exploring on your own?”

  “Not at all, Yer Majesty.”