Shades of Doon (6 page)
“Ged nach eil sinn fhathast pòsd’ . . .”
The words flowed through me like the first time I’d tasted ale — warm and smooth, leaving me lightheaded. “What is he saying?” I whispered.
“Ye should go find out, eh?” Gideon’s voice rose at the end in barely contained excitement.
The man clearly knew something he wasn’t telling me. Jamie’s eyes never left my face as I walked toward him feeling like I was smack dab in the middle of an episode of
Glee.
But I was no Rachel Berry. I couldn’t sing. Not a note. Kenna had tried to improve my voice, but we finally determined music moved my feet, not my tongue.
When I reached the last row of spectators, I saw my puppy sitting obediently at Jamie’s feet, as lulled by his voice as the group of sighing girls around the stage.
I stopped at the edge of the crowd, and Gabby, along with Emily and Analisa, parted the sea of people so I could get closer. If there was a sound associated with swooning, I heard it all around me as Jamie crouched to my level, his broad smile bringing out both dimples in his cheeks. I took his extended
hand, and he pulled me up beside him. Gazing into my eyes, he sang the last note of the song, and I melted into a puddle of spineless girl-goo.
He took both my hands in his broad palms, and suddenly my heart catapulted into my throat. This was no pointless romantic serenade. Nothing Jamie did was pointless. The intense lines of his body and the emotion pouring from his eyes said this was a declaration. I swallowed, hard.
Was he about to propose?
I loved this boy more than I thought possible, but marriage? I was barely eighteen.
My vision narrowed in panic. I couldn’t say no in front of our kingdom.
Jamie’s throat bobbed in a rare show of nerves before he spoke. “Verranica Welling, I feel like I’ve been dreamin’ of you since before I could talk . . .”
Oh no. I was dead in the water. My chest tightened as I gazed into his heartbreakingly handsome face — a face I wanted to wake up with and go to sleep to every night for the rest of my life.
The people sent up a cheer, along with someone who sounded suspiciously like Fergus shouting, “Get on with it, laddie!”
Jamie’s eyes sparkled, but a muscle twitched in his jaw, and I realized he was taking a huge risk by putting his feelings out there for everyone to see, especially without knowing if I would accept or reject him.
He cleared his throat before continuing. “Vee, you’re the only one I’ll ever love . . . Would ye become . . .”
He swallowed again, and I thought my chest might burst.
“ . . . my handfasted mate?”
“Your what?” The words surged out of me with no finesse whatsoever, provoking a roar of laughter from our audience.
Jamie’s eyes darted to the crowd and then back to my face before he leaned in and whispered, “’Tis a Celtic ceremony tha’ signifies our engagement.”
“Would we have to do it right now?”
“Nay, my heart. At a date of your choosing.”
“Then, sure.”
He leaned back and arched his brows in challenge. He wanted me to pronounce it. So flooded with love at that moment, I’d cartwheel through the crowd in my underwear if it would make him happy. I turned to the people of Doon. Keeping one of his hands locked in mine, I proclaimed, “My answer is yes!”
Blaz jumped up and gave a sharp bark of agreement as the Doonians showed their support with clapping and cheers. I scanned the faces and saw tears in the eyes of a few dear friends, including my bestie, who grinned from ear to ear and gave a fist pump. Beside her, Duncan cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Kiss her, you dolt!”
And in a perfect
Little Mermaid
moment, the people began to chant, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Jamie spun me around, took my face in both his hands, and kissed me until the entire world faded away.
The next morning, I was floating on air. The sun shone warm on our shoulders as Kenna and I strolled down the cobblestone path, peeking in shop windows and brainstorming ways to decorate her suite. We’d decided on an eclectic mix of jewel tones with accents of traditional plaid. We’d even had a painting of the Brig o’ Doon commissioned by Bahati MacPhee, Lachlan’s mom and a gifted artist who’d been Called to Doon from Africa. I’d been having so much fun, I hadn’t thought about
the work waiting for me back at the castle in twenty minutes. Amazing what a little shopping could do for the soul.
As we passed the market square, I was astounded to see the only signs of the previous night’s merriments were a few lanterns swaying in the trees. It’d been well past two in the morning when the festival had wound down, and the streets had been absolutely trashed.
“Where did everything go?” Kenna asked, mimicking my thoughts.
“I don’t know, but I know where I can find out.”
Following the mouthwatering scents of fried dough and coffee, I led Kenna and Blaz across the street to Alsberg Bakery. After handing Blaz’s leash to Eòran, and piling our packages into his arms, we pushed open the door and were greeted by the tinkling of a bell and a waft of sugary heaven. The selection was insane, but we eventually decided on coffee and apple fritters the size of my head.
As we waited for our order, I asked Mr. Alsberg, “How did the square get cleaned up so quickly? Do we have a Doon janitorial staff I don’t know about?”
“Or house elves,” Kenna muttered under her breath. I swallowed a laugh as the baker handed us two paper-wrapped pastries.
“The Creu,” he answered, as if I knew what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry?”
The German shook his head with a smile and pronounced the word more carefully. “The
Crew
.”
Adding cream to my coffee, I stopped mid-pour. “The crew of what?”
Mr. Alsberg gestured us to a free table and then sat and explained that “the Crew” was a group of older children whose
job it was to awake at first light and tidy up after all events. He listed Lachlan and several other names I recognized as being part of the team.
When I asked how they managed to get a bunch of preteens to do such an unglamorous job, I was told it is considered a privilege to serve the Kingdom in this capacity. And with a wink, the baker added, “It does not hurt that Prince Yahmie leads the Creu.”
Quickly sorting through his accented words, I set down my coffee with a plunk. “Wait. Did you say Jamie heads up the Crew?”
Mr. Alsberg nodded. “Yes.”
Amazing! Jamie had seen me to my door, and with our extended goodnight kiss would’ve gotten to bed sometime after three. Yet he’d still risen at the crack of dawn to lead the cleanup.
Two hours and three shops later, my jaw still dragged on the ground. The more I learned about my future king, the more astonished I was by his many layers. I knew, like me, he was an early riser, but I’d assumed he spent all his mornings training in the Brother Cave. Apparently, not all of them.
“So, are we going to talk about the heffalump following us around or should I shoot it in the head?” Kenna asked as we made our way to the textile shop. “I’m assuming that dreamy expression on your face has something to do with a certain hysteria-inducing prince?”
When I didn’t answer right away, she clasped her hands next to her cheek and squealed, “Oh, Prince Jamie! He’s sooo gorgeous!! Doesn’t he have the best voice eveeerrr?!?”
Blaz jerked on his leash and howled in response to the grating whine in Kenna’s voice. Agreeing with his assessment, I gave her a well-deserved smack on the arm. “Stop already!”
“Well, you did pretty much get engaged last night and you haven’t even mentioned it.”
We turned a corner and I glanced behind us to make sure Eòran hadn’t returned from taking our bags to the carriage. The man had been hovering like my second shadow all morning. I tugged Kenna into a narrow backstreet and turned to her with an unguarded grin — the kind that was so uncontrollable it almost hurt my face.
Her eyes flew wide as she pulled me into a bear hug. “I’m so happy for you guys! When can I help you design your dress? I’m thinking princess style, of course, with — ” She squeezed me until I wiggled away to avoid a cracked spine.
“Whoa there, girly. We aren’t engaged yet. It’s like a . . . I don’t know.” I shrugged. “A pre-engagement.”
Her ecstatic joy melted into confusion. “Like a promise ring? Lame. Then why was everyone so excited?”
“Well . . .” I looped my arm through hers and led her down the darkened alley, Blaz walking ahead of us. “The Handfasting is a public ceremony where multicolored cords are braided and wrapped around the couple’s joined hands, symbolizing the integration of their lives with each other and the Protector.” I’d been unable to sleep the previous night until I’d read up on the Handfasting.
“Doesn’t that whole Completing thing mean you’re engaged?”
“Umm . . .” I wrinkled my nose. All the formalities in Doon could get confusing, even for me. “No, I think that was more about the throne. Doon requires a king and queen to balance one another’s strengths. This is more of a personal thing. Anyway, once we go through the ceremony, we become officially engaged for a year and a day. Handfasting is like a trial period to see if the couple really wants to tie the knot — which incidentally is where the expression originated.”
Kenna rolled her eyes at my random trivia.
But I ignored her. “Some couples even live together during the trial.”
“Will you and Jamie live together?” She raised her fingers in air quotes and wiggled her auburn brows suggestively.
“We kind of already do — ”
“What?” she squeaked. “When did this happen?”
“
I meant,
we live in the same castle, weirdo.” We reached the end of the shadowed lane and stepped into a slant of sunlight bisecting the flagstones. “I’ve never even been to his roo — ”
My vision blacked out and something yanked me forward, like a rope intertwined with my intestines. Pain bloomed from my core. For a nanosecond, I was floating, in a zero-gravity spacewalk. In complete silence.
Then a pressurized pop.
Nausea burned in my throat as the invisible tether twisting my gut fell away. Sensation returned by degrees. I blinked, and my senses snapped into focus.
A body pressed tight against my side. Kenna and I stood on a sidewalk. A concrete sidewalk. The sun sank behind the trees, where moments before it had been late morning. With a tiny electric buzz, streetlights flickered on all around us. Raw chills skittered across my shoulders and raced down to my fingertips.
A car whizzed past, and I stumbled back, digging my nails into Kenna’s arm to keep my balance. I squeezed my eyes closed, willing the illusion away.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
“Can I assist you ladies with anythin’?” My eyes popped open to find a man wearing the black polyester uniform and checker-brimmed hat of the Scottish police. The officer glanced at my crown and then back to my face. If this was a mirage like before, how could he see us too?
“Miss?”
Because this was real.
“No, no, no.” I paused and swallowed my panic. “I . . . mean . . .”
“No . . . thank you, sir. We’re fine.” Kenna finished for me, her voice as shaky as I felt.
His dark brows crouched over his eyes as they darted between us, then he shook his head and walked away. I glanced around at the whitewashed buildings and tree-lined street. The sign for Poet’s Corner Coffee House swung gently in the breeze just ahead. I stumbled to the sewer and emptied the contents of my stomach.
This was no hallucination. We were in present-day Alloway, Scotland. On the other side of the Brig o’ Doon.
Y
ou know that feeling you get when there’s an abrupt scene change in a movie? The main character drives down the road, and an instant later is sipping a latte in a café. Or they lock eyes on a stranger in a club and the next second they’re in an apartment making out? Without a transition, it takes a moment — sometimes several — for your brain to fill in the gaps.
This was a zillion times worse — because it was real.
Vee straightened after vomiting into the street. I grabbed her arm and steered her down the sidewalk, away from the mess and the suspicious copper who kept giving us the stink eye. When we were out of earshot, I whispered, “What just happened?”
She stopped. Her pale face accentuated the confusion in her eyes as she stared listlessly at the sidewalk. “I don’t know.”
“But we’re in Alloway.”
Her head jerked up to face me as she snapped, “I can see that.”
Although misplaced, I understood her angry reaction and held up my hands, palms out to remind her that I wasn’t the enemy. “So what happened?”
“Let me think for a minute.” She sank onto a nearby bench.
“Okay.” I knew better than to push her when she needed time to process, so I paced up the sidewalk. The evening sun sat low on the horizon. In this part of Scotland, anything near seventy was considered a heat wave, and the temperature was indeed brisk. As soon as I had the thought, it was impossible not to feel the cold. Soon my teeth began to chatter.