Doon

by Carey Corp

  CHAPTER 27

  Veronica

  A wise man once said love is a temporary madness. It was the temporary part I clung to like a life raft as I watched Jamie, strong and confident, go through the rituals that would make him a king.

  He looked magnificent. His dress kilt, complete with formal jacket, was ornamented by his jeweled sword and the rich blue and green tartan of Clan MacCrae draped over his left shoulder—closest to his heart. I sat among the adoring masses, a silent participant while the emotions boiling through me threatened to erupt and rip the world in half. Was this the madness part?

  The mirror told me I looked like a princess, with a burgundy fairy-tale gown and fantastical silver and garnet circlet woven into my hair as proof, but inside I was a quivering mess. I’d never felt more like a fraud. Everything inside me wanted to storm the stage and beg Jamie to ignore his destiny with Sofia. Beseech him to abandon his duty and run away with me, the king’s vision be damned! But in the end, I would remain seated with a smile pasted on my face, pretending to be in control—just as I’d done most of my life.

  Placing his hand on the Bible, Jamie took the oaths that bound him to his kingdom. With every word he spoke, the chasm between us grew more insurmountable. His fate more tightly linked to the girl he would claim as his queen.

  Unable to watch another moment, I glanced up at the stone columns and vaults arching over my head. Fiona had explained that the first king of Doon commissioned this chapel as a spiritual retreat for the royal family. Now it was only used for the most significant ceremonial occasions.

  Next to me, Kenna’s soft sigh drew my attention away from the flawless architecture. I followed her stare toward the altar. Duncan mounted the steps two at a time and joined his brother with a squeeze on the shoulder and a heartening smile. As the clergyman announced the Oath of Fealty, Duncan solemnly lowered to one knee before Jamie and raised his right hand.

  “I, Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae, promise on my faith that I will, now and always, remain loyal to my laird and king, my brother. Will never cause him harm and will, in all things, observe my homage to the kingdom o’ Doon. I pledge my devoted counsel in all situations and vow to protect the laird with my life, against all persons and in all circumstances in loyalty and without deceit.”

  Every word of his commitment rang strong and true throughout the cathedral, his love for his kingdom and his brother clear to all. But it occurred to me that Duncan seemed to weigh his vow of protection above his declaration of honesty. Was withholding Gideon’s true whereabouts and the mysterious deaths of his soldiers a violation of loyalty? I couldn’t judge Duncan, because like me he must know the terrible secret he held would hurt more than it helped. We both had our reasons for keeping information from the new ruler of Doon.

  Finished with his pledge, Duncan tipped his head and kissed his sovereign’s ring. In a touching display of humility, Jamie clasped his brother’s hand and helped him to his feet, pulling him into a brief hug, their locked fists between them.

  The haunting music of unseen bagpipes wove through the room as every citizen filed into the aisle, patiently waiting their turn to step in front of their new laird and repeat an abbreviated version of the oath Duncan had just confessed.

  As the Rosetti sisters made their way toward to the platform, I watched Sofia, mesmerized by her glowing countenance and the dazzling sapphire gown trailing gracefully behind her. Her smile seemed brighter than the sun as she faced Jamie. With a sickening lurch in the pit of my belly, I watched them exchange a meaningful glance before she sank to her knees and made her pledge. I tore my gaze away from the touching scene and let my eyes wander over the crowd.

  It seemed the Doonians were trying to ignore Kenna and me. Aside from a few nervous glances, they seemed determined to enjoy the festivities. I turned to ask Ken if she’d noticed their indifference when tingles skittered up my spine. Searching the room for the source of my discomfort, I spotted a middle-aged woman—tall, wafer thin, caramel-colored skin—staring at me. I recognized Roddie MacPhee’s wife from the marketplace.

  Her mocha-colored eyes pleaded with me, silently begging me to do something to return her loved one. My throat tightened as she turned away. I didn’t understand exactly how the witch’s magic worked, but the disappearances were partly my fault for bringing the cursed book into the kingdom in the first place. I just prayed taking the journal across the bridge would restore the missing people to their families … unharmed.

  The minister’s reverent voice shifted my attention away from Mrs. MacPhee and back to the ceremony. “The Completing affirmation shall now commence.”

  The announcement echoed through the chapel, every word like a nail in my heart. My eyes darted to Sofia seated several rows in front of us with the rest of the Rosetti clan. Gabby, practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement, leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.

  The ever-poised Sofia smiled indulgently and then whispered something back that caused the younger girl’s eyes to widen, an irrepressible grin lighting her up from within. Sofia glanced over her shoulder and scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on me, she lifted her chin, a small smile sliding across her lovely lips. And I could almost read her thoughts: You may have had him for one night, but he’s mine for eternity.

  “Nice,” I mumbled under my breath as I broke eye contact with the gloating queen-to-be. My spine crumbled and I slumped in my seat, focusing every ounce of energy I possessed on not falling apart. Jamie was supposed to be mine! For a brief second, I fantasized that I’d met him in Alloway that day I saw him on the street, and that he was an ordinary boy. He would’ve smiled at me and said hello, maybe inviting me to get a coffee.

  The image popped like a soap bubble. Jamie was nothing close to ordinary and no amount of wishing would change him—not that I really wanted to.

  “Did you say something?” Kenna asked belatedly, her eyes glued to Duncan as he took his place beside his brother.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled, hoping she was preoccupied enough to let it drop.

  A young steward walked up the center aisle carrying an elaborately carved wooden box. He ascended the stairs to the platform and set the box on a table to Jamie’s right. The chamber was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

  The clergyman’s voice rang through the crowd. “Man is not meant ta be alone, nor in Doon shall he rule alone. James Thomas Kellan MacCrae, have ye chosen a suitable partner that will help ye rule the kingdom in wisdom and in truth?”

  “Aye,” Jamie answered with certainty, a tiny smile curving one side of his mouth—the smile I’d always imagined was just for me. My stomach clenched, bile clawing its way up my throat.

  “Laird, please record yer selection for our future queen on this slip o’ parchment.” The vicar handed Jamie a feathered quill with one hand, while gesturing toward the table and the wooden box with the other.

  What did he mean, “record yer selection?” All the muscles in my body stiffened.

  “What the—?” Kenna exclaimed.

  “Shhh.” I pressed my elbow into her side as she scooted out of my reach.

  “Seriously, Vee, could they draw this out any more? Is he trying to torture you?”

  I smiled gratefully at my friend—my sister—who voiced the words I felt but couldn’t let myself say. Coming clean with Kenna had not only lifted a huge weight from me, but also united us in a common cause.

  Squeezing her hand, I lied for her sake. “I’ll be okay, Ken.”

  After Jamie placed the folded paper into a cream-colored envelope, the steward pressed the hot wax seal onto the flap, closing it with a quick flourish. Applause filled the room as Jamie turned toward the crowd and executed a deep, graceful bow, a huge grin revealing the long dimple in his right cheek. “All will be revealed in due time, but ye must attend the ball this evening.” Cheers echoed through the room at Jamie’s teasing announcement.

  “What an idiot!” Kenna muttered beside me. I knew she wanted me to agree, but
I didn’t have any anger left. It didn’t matter anyway. The name he’d written on that slip of paper wasn’t mine. A blessed numbness descended, buffering me like a cloak against a cold night. I just hoped this odd detachment would stick around long enough to get me through the ball and then over the bridge.

  “We have one more order o’ business ta attend to, friends,” the clergyman said, obviously joyful while attempting to keep the ceremony on track. He indicated a rough slab of sandstone at the center of the altar. “Prince James, I ask that ye take a knee on the Liath Fàil.”

  A reverent silence descended on the room as Jamie lowered to one knee, his golden head bowed. Analytically, I noticed the slight curl of his hair where it lay against the tan skin of his neck, the strength of his calf muscles defined beneath woolen hose, and the humble set of his broad shoulders as the simple gold and diamond circlet was placed on his head—it was like a page ripped out of a storybook.

  “Rise, new laird of Doon, and take your rightful place before your people.”

  Fluidly, Jamie stood to the responsive roar of the crowd as they shot to their feet while I remained frozen to my seat. Despite my newfound aloofness, a lump filled my throat, my volatile emotions threatening to pull me into the frenzied adoration surrounding me. The rustling of multicolored silks and plaid kilts encircled me, and I grasped for the protective cloak that was already slipping through my fingers.

  Less than five hours. You can do this.

  Rising slowly, I joined the crowd, bringing my hands together in polite, respectful applause—just another person in the crowd, not someone whose heart and soul was, and always would be, irrevocably intertwined with the young King of Doon.

  CHAPTER 28

  Veronica

  Loser was not a word I liked to use to describe myself, but I was pretty sure only a pathetic loser—or a complete moron—would subject herself to this torture. And yet here I was walking into a ballroom that looked like it had been decorated by Jane Austen and Tinker Bell. As I stepped through the doorway, I drew a deep cleansing breath, resolving to relax and enjoy the otherworldly brilliance before me.

  Kenna, Fiona, and I were among the first to arrive, so the displays of tantalizing edible art—including a dessert table anchored on both sides by confectionary sculptures resembling the Castle MacCrae—remained untouched. When I ran into Mags, I would be sure to tell her how amazing everything looked. She and her kitchen staff had certainly outdone themselves for the occasion.

  Beyond the tables of food, a row of french doors opened to reveal a harvest moon lighting the elaborate gardens and lake beyond. The vast ballroom itself, adorned in garlands of flowers and greenery, glowed with hundreds of candles, their warm light casting a golden sheen on every surface like a coating of pixie dust.

  The room oozed romance.

  I had a sudden desire to knock over the nearest candelabra and burn the whole place down. Instead, I pressed my fingernails into my palms and took another deep breath.

  Three more hours, Veronica. You can do this.

  My dark emotions firmly in hand, I turned toward my best friend, determined to focus on her possibility for love. “When do you think Duncan will get here?” I asked, snagging a glistening melon ball from a table as we passed.

  Kenna spun around, fire in her eyes. “I’ve no idea. And it doesn’t really matter at this moment. Fiona, explain that whole envelope thing.”

  So much for turning the focus away from my own crappy life. But when Fiona’s eyes flickered to mine, I nodded for her to continue. I needed to hear this.

  “When the new king is crowned, he must record his selection fer his queen and coruler, but he does no’ have ta declare his betrothal right then. If he feels he needs more time ta prepare, or ta court the girl, he kin write her name down and open it at a time of his choosing.”

  “So it could be years before Jamie opens that thing?” Kenna demanded.

  “Usually, yes. But the timing of the Completing this year is … unorthodox. The king has ta be betrothed before the Centennial. When the Brig o’ Doon opens, his intended must stand by his side and welcome the Destined—all those who’ve been led ta our great kingdom.”

  At the far end of the hall, I could see another entrance and a mass of people approaching from the corridor beyond. I hoped Duncan was among them. Ken meant well, but this conversation was chipping away at the little strength I had left.

  Kenna’s eyes flickered toward the crowd and back to Fiona as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means that he’ll have ta open the envelope before midnight tonight.”

  Awesome. Why had I let Jamie convince me to be here again?

  “Fiona, Kenna, Vee!”

  I recognized the rolling, exotic voice of Gabby Rosetti. It figured—nothing like the queen-to-be’s little sister adding salt to the wound.

  “Your dresses are bea-u-tifulll.” She elongated the final consonant as she slipped in front of us to twirl in an excited circle, the rich green fabric of her skirt belling out around her.

  Since we shared a brain and Kenna had always been more demonstrative with her feelings, the glare she shot Gabby was completely unfiltered. Luckily, Gabby didn’t seem to notice.

  Fiona’s eyes darted from Kenna, to me, then back to Gabby and she rushed to return the girl’s complement. “Ye look lovely as well, Gabriella.”

  “Sure do—so does your sister.” Fake enthusiasm dripped from Kenna’s every word. “Where is Sofia, anyway? She must be sooo relieved.”

  “Ken—” I pinched the back of her arm in warning. When she set her mind, she was like a runaway car—reckless and unable to stop short of smashing into a solid object.

  Gabriella Rosetti regarded us with large, trusting doe eyes. “Over what?”

  “The betrothal, silly.” Kenna’s shark-like smile rivaled Cinderella’s wicked stepmother as she leaned toward Gabby and gave her a wide wink. “I know she and Jamie spoke in confidence yesterday.”

  Surprise moved across the girl’s lovely features and she nodded in confirmation. She searched our faces for reassurance that she was among friends. Satisfied, she leaned in to share her secret. “I’ve been awfully concerned about her lately. But after she and Jamie talked last night, she’s been so very happy.”

  Ken lowered her voice to indicate this juicy bit of gossip was just between us girls. “Is that so? What did he say, exactly?”

  Gabby paused to draw in a breath, her eyes shifting from Kenna’s eager face to Fiona’s deep frown, and then warily back to me. “I think I’ve already said too much. If ye will please excuse me, I should go in search of my sister.”

  As soon as Gabby turned her back to us, I smacked Kenna across the arm while Fiona admonished her with, “That wasn’t verra nice.”

  “Well—” She crossed her arms contentiously. “I didn’t feel verra nice.”

  “Excuse us for one minute.” I grabbed my friend by the sleeve and hauled her away from Fiona. Just short of the doors, I whirled on her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “He’s not going to get away with it!”

  My eyes widened. “Who’s not getting away with what?”

  “Jamie’s not getting away with marrying Sofia when he loves you.”

  I shook my head, a sad smile creeping onto my lips. She wanted to fix everything for me and I loved her for that, but she needed to accept that it was over. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do. But did I ask you to fight my battles?”

  “No—”

  “Don’t you think after everything we’ve been through, if I needed help I’d come to you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts! This is a royal ball.” I pointed beyond her left shoulder. “And you’ve got a real-life prince over there working so hard to get your attention that he looks like he’s trying to land a plane. Go dance with him! Have fun!”

  Kenna glanced behind her and Duncan made another broad beckoning
gesture, his face lighting up with enthusiasm when he saw he’d gained her attention.

  “He looks like he’s provoking a bull.” A small chuckle slipped from her mouth before she turned back around. “I don’t think I should leave you.”

  Wrapping my arms around her in a bear hug, I whispered, “If I need you, I’ll come find you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I pulled back and in a sing-song voice attempted the words to one of her favorite songs. “There’s only this. Only tonight. So let go. Find out if it’s right.”

  She burst out laughing. “Before you go all Rent on me, it goes both ways.”

  My smile faltered. “Kenna, there comes a time when admitting defeat becomes the logical choice—”

  She waved her hand in a dismissive motion. “Is there a wedding ring on his finger?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts. Fight for him!”

  My best friend had always been a fighter. She single-mindedly pursued her dreams, whether they were the right ones or not. But that wasn’t me. Whenever things got messy, I preferred to paste on a smile and walk—or run—the other way. It’s how I’d protected myself all my life. Between fight or flight, I definitely preferred flight. Just like Dad.

  The realization hit me like a sledgehammer, causing me to slump against the edge of the table behind me. I resisted the urge to grab my aching chest as I pretended to consider my friend’s call to action. My father was a weak, selfish coward. Did that make me one too?

  With effort, I focused on Kenna’s searching gaze. “Okay, I’ll try,” I conceded to shut her up. “But we had a deal, remember?”