Doon

by Carey Corp

  At this latest allegation, the crowd clucked in disapproval. Jamie stepped away from me, and the breath I hadn’t realized I held whooshed from my lips. He nodded toward his father. “Gideon makes a sound point. We can’t risk these alleged witches beguiling us.”

  On the second to last word, his voice cracked, but he turned to face the people and continued in an expressionless tone. “Any defense must be offered by a citizen of Doon.”

  For the first time in the proceedings, the room was as silent as a crypt. Jamie declared, “Is there no one willing to speak on their behalf?”

  Duncan stepped down from the dais and winked in our direction. “Don’t be daft, Jamie. You know I’ll defend them.”

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed slightly as his mouth quirked into a tight, shrewd smile. “You can’t, little brother. As a member of the royal family, you sit in judgment on this hearing.”

  Duncan’s expression mirrored his sibling’s. “Then I renounce my royal claim. You must now be an only child and I an orphaned commoner.”

  I waited for the king to stop them, but he retained his Zen-like nonchalance. Either he was used to his sons’ antics or his health was too compromised to intervene. Maybe a bit of both.

  In an unexpected display of emotion, Jamie leaned toward his brother. Despite the quiet, I strained to catch his barely audible reproach. “Stop this madness. Ye know what’s at stake here.”

  In an equally intimate tone, Duncan replied, “What happened to your heart, brother? What would Mother say if she were here to witness your callous behavior?”

  Jamie’s eyes widened as he turned away, dark color staining his cheekbones.

  Duncan addressed his father. “If these girls held the power to bewitch us, they would’ve done it by now. As defense, I would like the lasses to give an account o’ how they came to be in Doon.”

  When the king nodded in agreement, Duncan addressed Kenna and me. “Dinna be afraid. Speak whatever truth is in your hearts.”

  I glanced at Kenna, and she nodded for me to take the lead. Clearing my throat, I locked my knees against their shaking and focused on the king. “Respectfully, sire, we walked across the Bridge of Doon.”

  What I thought was a straightforward statement incited the mob, and Gideon had to shout to be heard. “Ye see, sire! The Brig o’ Doon does no’ open fer two more weeks—until the Centennial. Yet these lassies crossed it. ’Tis witchery, I say!”

  “NOT—” Duncan paused until the roar died down. “Not if they possessed the Rings of Aontacht.” Behind him, the assembly gasped.

  “That is a bold claim, m’ laird.” Gideon scoffed and crossed his arms over his spindly chest.

  Duncan smiled. “Is it?” Without taking his eyes off Gideon, he inquired, “Fergus Lockhart, what say you?”

  The gentle giant stepped forward. His pale blue eyes met mine briefly before refocusing on his co-conspirator. Prompted by Duncan’s nod, Fergus addressed the king. “Sire, we did remove rings from these lasses. One gold and ruby, the other silver with an emerald.”

  The king considered this for a moment then turned his attention back to Fergus. “If this is true, where are the rings now?”

  “Gideon confiscated ’em, sire.”

  King MacCrae gestured for Gideon to approach the throne. Purple with indignation, Gideon reached into his vest. After a ridiculous amount of searching and patting, he produced the rings. Rather than hand them over immediately, he stammered, “M’ laird, what if these trinkets be forgeries? Or cursed? They need ta be evaluated before—”

  The king silenced him with an elegant flick of his wrist, then extended his hand and waited until Gideon surrendered the bands. They came to rest in the monarch’s palm with a subdued clink.

  King MacCrae took a ring in each hand and examined them. I watched mute, as he went into a trance-like state and held the rings reverently skyward. His lips moved in silent prayer. At long last, he proclaimed, “These are, indeed, the Rings of Aontacht. Where did ye get them?”

  “They were left to me by my aunt Gracie and uncle Cameron.” Kenna’s voice rang through the hall.

  “You’re a relative of Cameron Lockhart?” As Kenna nodded, the auld laird favored her with a smile. “This explains much.”

  Jamie emerged from the crowd, apparently recovered from his moment of humiliation. “Father, just because these girls have the Rings of Aontacht does not mean they should be absolved. They could yet be aligned with the witch.”

  Without a trace of his characteristic smirk, Duncan interjected, “Or not.”

  Kenna sighed. “Just take us back to the bridge. We’ll use the rings to go home. Problem solved.”

  My stomach bungee-jumped into my toes. Of course, leaving was preferable to death, but I wasn’t ready to give up on this place … or on him.

  I ignored the impulse to glance at Jamie and instead focused on the one person who held our fate, King MacCrae. The same shrewd expression I’d seen on the faces of his sons now emerged on his. “I am afraid ’tis not so easily settled, lass. These rings belong to Doon. They will be locked safely in the chapel until Doon has need of them again.”

  “But—” Kenna sputtered. I knew she was thinking about her internship, life moving on without her in the modern world.

  As if he could read her thoughts as well, the king elaborated. “Questions have been raised, Miss Reid, as to the purpose of your sudden arrival in our kingdom. You and Miss Welling will stay here in Doon for the next fortnight. At that time, the Brig o’ Doon will open for the Centennial and ye will be able to leave without use of the rings. Until then, my kingdom is at your disposal. Fiona and Fergus will remain in your service.”

  Gideon’s odious voice interrupted again. “But sire—”

  “Gideon, it has been spoken. I will no’ change my mind. M’ ladies, ye have been granted a rare opportunity. Most travelers get only one day, but you have two weeks ta come to know Doon and its people. And for us to know you. At the Centennial, however, you must make the choice all outsiders are tasked with. Ye must choose whether to remain in Doon or leave us forever.”

  “Sire—” Gideon halted under the king’s withering stare and dropped his beady eyes to the tip of his boot. The auld laird rose, and his sons each rushed to support him. As he leaned on his heirs, King MacCrae pronounced in a most wise and fatherly voice, “As Laird MacCrae, I welcome ye to Doon. Tomorrow my sons will present to you their kingdom. Ye must forgive my absence, but my health is not what it once was. Jamie will serve in my place.”

  Despite the distasteful grimace that moved across his face, I had to admit Jamie played the role of prince to perfection. With a deep, courtly bow, he said, “Miss Reid, Miss—uh—Welling, please permit me and m’ brother, Duncan, to escort you about our kingdom tomorrow.”

  As he straightened, I nodded my acceptance. His eyes met mine briefly, before a furrow formed between his dark gold brows and he turned away.

  In a low voice meant only for me, Kenna muttered, “Oh joy, a whole day with Prince Not-So-Charming and the overly flirtatious ogre.”

  I turned to face her, the fatigue I felt reflected in her face. Grabbing her hand, I smiled. “It’s okay, Ken. Just think of it like a vacation.”

  Insinuating his gigantic form between Kenna and myself, Fergus wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders. “Uh, m’ lairds? Your lady guests appear greatly fatigued. Please allow Fiona and I ta return them to their chambers.”

  With the king’s leave and Fergus’s assistance, we made our way through the mildly mollified crowd.

  I had two whole weeks to explore this magical kingdom and convince the people of Doon we weren’t witches. Fourteen days to try to find out why Jamie MacCrae had been visiting me in the modern world, and why he now looked at me like I might pull out an AK-47 and go Call of Duty on his beloved people. Three hundred and thirty-six hours to prove to my handsome prince that I wasn’t evil incarnate.

  Suddenly, two weeks didn’t seem like nearly enough time.

>   CHAPTER 12

  Veronica

  In the shadow of the most spectacular castle I’d ever seen, I accepted Fergus’s Frisbee-sized hand as he helped me into an open carriage. This place was straight off the pages of Cinderella. Surreal didn’t begin to describe it.

  Kenna settled next to me on the plush bench seat, humming show tunes under her breath as Fergus methodically checked the horses under Fiona’s diligent scrutiny. Despite a full ten hours of blissful sleep, my shoulders ached with tension. The prospect of spending the entire day with Jamie MacCrae had me fighting the urge to hurl up my breakfast. Should I smile and be pleasant? Or stick my nose in the air and pretend he didn’t exist? Playing hard to get didn’t seem like the best strategy to win over a guy who’d done his darndest to keep me at arm’s length.

  “Stop squirming, Vee.” I hadn’t realized I’d been playing with the laces on the front of my bodice until Kenna’s words stilled my restless hands. She looked at me with unmistakable admiration. “You look amazing—that sapphire-colored blouse makes your eyes pop.”

  “It does?” I glanced at Kenna. Her figure was perfectly suited for the moss-green, fitted bodice and the plaid skirt that was identical to mine. She looked curvy in all the right places. Me, on the other hand—not so much.

  Kenna’s penetrating stare raked over me and then she smiled. “Yeah, you look hot. Like a cross between a pirate wench and a Catholic school girl.”

  “Like Steph!” We said in unison, dissolving into peals of laughter at the thought of Stephanie Heartford, who’d worn a different naughty Halloween costume to school every year since junior high; each time she was justifiably sent home for flagrant violations of the school dress code.

  “What’s so amusing?” Duncan appeared out of nowhere on Kenna’s side of the carriage. “See, Jamie, didn’t I say we’d miss somethin’ by being late?”

  Duncan wore his perpetual grin, and Jamie—well, I assumed it was Jamie—stood next to him wearing dark pants and a black cloak with the hood pulled over his head, casting his entire face in shadow. He looked like a goth kid with a Jedi complex.

  Choosing not to give him the satisfaction of gaping at him, I turned my attention to the normal brother and smiled. “Just an inside joke.”

  Duncan looked perplexed by my statement but didn’t pursue it further; instead, he addressed the larger group. “Shall we be off then?”

  “Aye. I’m driving.” It was the first thing Jamie said since arriving. Not that I was counting.

  As everyone settled into the carriage, I noticed we’d attracted the attention of various villagers going about their daily business in the courtyard. A man pushing a large wooden wagon overflowing with fruit stopped and stared at me. As I returned his gaze, his eyes widened and he hastily made the sign of the cross before rushing away, dumping half the contents of the cart in his wake. One of the overturned apples rolled past the feet of a guy our age wearing what looked to be a butcher’s apron. He stopped to pick up the apple, and then turned toward me with a huge smile. Lifting the fruit as if in salute, he took a bite before continuing on his way.

  Confused and a little saddened by what the men’s behavior indicated, I glanced at the stiff set of Jamie’s shoulders. Winning over the people seemed like the first logical step in earning the prince’s confidence. What else could I do or say to change his mind about us when he didn’t seem to believe anything I said?

  Obsessing as I was over Jamie MacCrae, I couldn’t help but overhear his low voice as he questioned Fergus. “Any news on Roddie MacPhee?”

  “Naught a word. His wife hasn’t seen him since yesterday eve. Search parties were dispatched this morn’ per yer instruction.”

  Jamie nodded and then flicked the reigns, jolting the carriage into motion. Someone had gone missing? I hoped the man would be found soon—not only for his sake, but with many people in Doon believing the worst about us, I feared Kenna and I would become prime suspects.

  Leaving the busy courtyard behind, we drove through the arched main gates and onto a cobblestone road. The views were breathtaking as we wound our way through the trees, catching glimpses of the sparkling lake—or loch, as Fiona called it—to our left and rolling green hills far off to the right.

  Fiona served as our official Doon tour guide, sharing interesting facts and stories about the sights we passed. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t keep my mind focused on what she was saying. Being this close to Jamie, even with his back turned, was messing with my head. The deep sounds he made when directing the horses melted through me like rich hot chocolate on a cold day.

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to dispel the viseral connection I seemed to share with the elder prince. What I really needed was a yoga class. Forcing myself to relax, I shut my eyes, tilted my head to the sky, and let the sun warm my face. Poses danced through my mind, Warrior, the Bridge, Downward Dog …

  “I feel bad about taking you away from your dad when he’s so sick,” Kenna said, breaking the silence.

  I cracked open an eye briefly and watched Duncan give Kenna a sweet smile before responding.

  “Father’s been ill for a very long time. He’s requested that my brother and I live our lives as normally as possible. Not only for ourselves, but the health o’ the kingdom.”

  It made sense that the royal family would set the tone for the people. If they walked around in a cloud of grief, everyone in Doon would feel it.

  “Are we keeping you awake, Vee?”

  Slowly, I opened my eyes fully and gave Kenna a serene smile. “Not at all.”

  Duncan’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can tell ye a story guaranteed to keep sleep at bay.”

  “Please do,” Kenna said with mock affront. “I’d hate for my friend to be sent to the gallows for falling asleep during the royal tour of the kingdom.”

  I straightened in my seat, too calm to be baited.

  “A story it is, then,” Duncan declared, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “Through yon trees lies the ruin of an ancient witches’ cottage.” He deliberately deepened his voice, sounding like the voice-over for a Scottish horror movie trailer. “A hive of such pure evil that even the land is barren. To this very day not a single weed nor blade of grass dares to grow on that defiled ground.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “How can there be evil here? Isn’t Doon under an enchantment?”

  “What you say is true … but ye see, the witches’ dwelling isn’t in Doon precisely.”

  We moved through a dense stretch of forest, the occupants of the carriage growing unnaturally quiet. Trees arched and met over the path, skeletal wood blocking out the late morning sun and stealing the heat from my skin. The rhythmic clomp of the horse’s hooves and the squeak of the carriage wheels sounded magnified in the heavy silence.

  I followed Duncan’s and Fiona’s stares through the screen of branches to a decaying ruin lurking just off the road. Leaning forward, I squinted into the unnatural darkness. The ground was grayish brown and bare, like winter. The crumbling stone structure, equally gloomy, appeared devoid of all life. It might have been my imagination, but the air seemed to move in a sluggish rhythm, punctuated by a steady throb like a heartbeat and carrying the slightest stench of rot.

  Kenna wrinkled up her nose. “It stinks.”

  “Aye.” Duncan nodded. “When my great-grandfather, King Angus Andrew Kellan MacCrae, made a covenant with the Protector o’ Doon, a powerful blessing covered the kingdom. Our enemies, gathered in yonder cottage at the time, were instantly struck down and smitten from the land, except for one wee witch, a girl who managed to escape. But that land—the witches’ land—was too defiled to be blessed.”

  I gripped the edge of the carriage and leaned back as Duncan continued, his voice quietly somber and devoid of theatrics. “Therefore, the witches’ land is not under our protection. No Doonian can set foot inside its malevolent boundaries—nor would they want to.”

  Only after the trees thinned, their patterns of dappled light a
nd shade playing across my vision, did I have the courage to whisper, “What happened to her—the witch?”

  “To this day, that wee witch still roams the hills outside of Doon in her eternal quest for revenge.” At Duncan’s words, icy fingers skittered down my spine, lodging an irrational fear into the pit of my stomach.

  I looked over to Fiona as a shadow passed across her face. She made a hasty sign of the cross, her lips moving in what I assumed was a silent prayer. This was her heritage, and I could see she didn’t take it lightly. As we left the forest behind and entered into the brilliant morning sun, she breathed more easily.

  “You’re trying to scare us.” Kenna crossed her arms under her chest and shifted away from Duncan.

  “Nay, but it does help to explain the suspicion of some of our people, does it not?”

  Before I could ask Duncan how they knew the witch was still alive, Jamie bellowed “Whoa” and pulled the horses to a stop in front of an ancient stone chapel.

  “This be the Auld Kirk,” Fiona said with something akin to reverence in her lilting voice. She looked relieved to have moved on from evil witches to a more pleasant topic.

  “The entire kingdom, if they so choose, attends services here Sunday morn,” Duncan added.

  “Even the royal family?” Kenna asked in surprise.

  “Aye. We dinna stand on ceremony here.” I looked up, startled to see that Jamie’d turned around to answer Kenna’s question. “From the stable lads to the king himself, we each have a role to fulfill.”

  Even though his eyes where hidden in the deep cowl of his hood, I felt him watching me as he continued. “In Doon we are all equal parts of the greater whole. ’Tis our greatest strength.”

  After a pause, he turned, clucked to the horses, and drove on. His unassuming declarations about life in Doon struck me as remarkable—as if their idealistic existence was nothing out of the ordinary, as if there was no other way to live.

  Having completely lost the tenuous calm I’d achieved earlier, I searched for something to focus on that wasn’t our princely chauffer. Luckily, I was saved by the appearance of small gingerbread-like buildings in the distance.