Forever Doon (15 page)

“Stop,” Jamie commanded in a sharp whisper. “Hold us here.”

Ewan pulled back on the oars until we floated in roughly the same spot, completely shrouded in a cloud of vapor. The fog blocked us from even seeing each other, and for several moments, we were silent. My brain ran through all the possible scenarios, and by the time Jamie spoke, I dreaded the words he would say.

“We're too large a target. We'll need to swim for it.”

I shuddered. Everyone has phobias. This was mine. As kids, when I had agreed to a rare afternoon at the pool with Kenna, I'd watched others frolic in playful oblivion as I doggie-paddled with my feet suspended above twelve feet of open water, terrorized by all the ways I could die. Jumping into a hundred-foot-deep, pitch-black lake teaming with hungry fish, and who knew what else, had to be worse.
Much worse.

It was a losing battle, but I whispered, “What about Oliver?”

“I can float on my back and kick my feet,” Oliver volunteered. “All you'll have to do is tug me along.”

An arrow thunked into the side of the boat. I heard Ewan set down the oars and then what sounded like the heavy fabric of his cloak falling as he readied himself to jump into the fathomless depths.

Not as good at following orders, even when I knew they were sound, I turned in Jamie's general direction. “We're still too close to the castle. If we swim back to shore, they'll easily overtake us on foot.”

“There's a small island just ahead. It's where I was takin' us. If we stick to the fog, they'll think we headed to shore. Then, when things die down a bit, we can use the small craft we keep on the island to reach the other side of the loch.”

Blasted Scotsman!
Why was he always right? I jerked the tie at my throat and pushed off my cape. “I suppose we have to abandon our shoes as well?” My boots weren't the custom-made leather creations I'd become accustomed to, but at least they fit my feet. I kicked them off and then pulled the small vile from my pocket. Unsure where to put it, I settled on tucking it into my bra.

The boat shook from side to side and I almost shrieked when Jamie's face appeared through the fog, a cocky grin tilting his perfect mouth. “I willna let ye drown, love.”

My heart convulsed in my chest. Whether from the sight of that familiar, infuriating smile, or my mounting terror, I couldn't be sure. Perhaps a bit of both.

I tore my eyes away from his and began to knot the laces of my boots into a handle, planning to take them with me. “I know how to swim.”

“The tremor in yer voice says otherw—”

A flurry of arrows hammered into the boat in quick
succession. We had drifted out of the fog bank, into open water. Missiles whizzed past our heads. Oliver screamed, a shaft protruding from his shoulder.

“Saints, Murray! Keep us steady!” Jamie dropped down next to Oliver and snapped the stick end off the arrow. “ 'Tis buried deep. Keep the head in to staunch the blood flow.”

Ewan grabbed and then fumbled the oars, one of them slipping out of its metal ring and into the lake. I sprang over the edge, reaching for the wooden pole as it floated away. I'd almost reached the tip when someone yanked me back by my shirt. I spun around, screeching, “I almost had it!”

Jamie tugged me into the middle of the boat and then pointed. “Look.”

At least twenty guards stood on the shoreline where we'd pushed into the lake, reloading their bows. At that close range they'd see us enter the water and could pick us off one at a time. But we had to try to make it to the fog. My throat tightening with fear, I gave the order, “Everyone jump in different directions, then swim under the water as long as you can. Jamie, take Oliver.” The arrows flew, smacking all around us. “Now!”

Not giving myself a second to think, I wrapped the laces of my boots around my left hand and leapt into the lake. Water enveloped me with muscle-numbing cold and I sank like a rock. My ears filled with pressure and I opened my eyes to solid black. Deaf and blind, it was like floating in deep space. Forcing down my paralyzing fear, I swam with no idea if I headed up, down, or sideways. I heard arrows slice through the water, losing speed but still lethal.

If I surfaced, the archers would have an easy target, but my lungs squeezed, already begging for air. Death by drowning or an arrow to the face—neither option sounded appealing.

And then the water lit up like dawn. As a moth drawn to
a bug zapper, I swam toward the light and popped up with a gasp. Streaks of fire arched overhead. Treading water, I turned in a circle and searched for the others.

“Vee!”

I swam toward the sound of his voice. “Jamie!”

I rounded the back of the boat and met his grinning face, eyes sparking gold as more flames flew overhead. “The cavalry has arrived.”

“What?”

His free hand, the one not holding Oliver, found my arm under the water and turned me to face the source of our rescue. Like something out of a movie, two large boats floated nearby filled with men and women, shooting flame-tipped arrows at our attackers on shore. Legs braced wide, the archers streamed an almost constant barrage of missiles, lit and fed to them by a row of people seated in back. “Duck boats. They snuck across the loch under camouflage. Who else knew ye were comin' to the castle tonight?”

“Analisa.” The brilliant girl must have planned on following us all along.

“Hurry!” Fergus's voice boomed across the water as he loaded a bow. “We've got ye covered, but our arrow supply is no' endless.”

Clearly, Fergus hadn't spotted Jamie floating in the water beside me, or he'd be freaking out for a different reason.

Bands of light smudged my vision, like the aftereffect of fireworks as we swam through the glowing water to the waiting vessels. Ahead, Ewan pulled himself onto a boat, and hands tugged him the rest of the way out of the lake. The return fire from shore had dwindled to almost nothing. We reached the first boat and hands reached down to lift Oliver. I pushed wet
hair off my face and turned to Jamie with my first genuine smile in weeks. “Are you ready to come back from the dead?”

Jamie's eyes locked with mine, and I read something raw and intense in his gaze before he hooked a hand behind my neck and pulled me close. Our bodies sealed together as he pressed his lips to mine in a single, searing kiss. When he pulled back, I felt the heat of his words against my mouth, “I would die a thousand deaths, if it meant coming back to you.”

A
gentle wind caressed my skin as I sat by the banked fire enjoying the sensation of being warm for the first time in ages. Freedom tasted sweet like primrose, and alive, like . . . spring. No sign of the blizzard conditions that had plagued Doon before my capture. Which meant my queen had found her strength, despite our divided nation. Despite camping in the forest, hiding from her greatest enemy. Despite believing me dead.

Pride swelled in my chest. I'd always told her she was stronger than she knew. The Protector would not have chosen her otherwise. But a small part of me grieved that she'd awoken to her potential without me. Not because she'd done it on her own; I just would've liked to have seen it.

“So, I'm curious.” Fergus lowered his enormous frame onto the other end of the log, and I felt my seat rise a bit from his weight. I stoked the fire with a long stick, sparks flurrying into the misty air, and waited for my old friend to continue.

After escaping the witch's guards at the loch, we'd hurried
back to camp, where the Doonians greeted me like a returning war hero, tears streaming down many of their faces as they declared my return a miracle.

But not Fergus. The big man had hung back, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits, examining me like a sword with a broken hilt that he couldn't decide whether to fix or melt into scrap. Now, as dawn began to sneak up on the horizon, I longed to collapse onto a pallet somewhere—preferably within easy reach of Veronica as she slept. But I'd come to the fire ring to wait, certain my oldest friend would find me.

Fergus cleared his throat, shifted his weight, and began again. “I'm curious how I watched a noose bein' looped around yer neck and
saw
ye drop from the gallows, and yet here ye sit.”

“I was wondering the same thing,” a melodic voice said behind me. I turned to find Veronica approaching, wrapped in a tattered quilt, hair mussed and eyes heavy with sleep. My heart raced at the mere sight of her, and I patted the log beside me in invitation.

Blaz, a head taller than last I'd seen him, padded up to me. Ears erect, tail down, he paused several feet away. I extended my open palm. Cautious, he stepped forward and sniffed my hand. His tail rose, wagging faster as he licked my skin. With a mighty leap, his enormous paws were on my shoulders and a wet, warm tongue bathed my face.

“Down, boy,” I commanded with a chuckle. Following one more quick lick, he settled near my feet, one paw resting on my boot.

When I looked up, I saw that Fergus still awaited my answer. I wasn't entirely sure how to explain what had happened to me without causing him to question my sanity. Veronica sat close, the heat of her side pressed into mine as I let my mind go back over the moments surrounding my near execution. So much
had transpired since that fateful night, but I'd had plenty of time to ponder what I'd experienced and to form a theory, no matter how outlandish.

I rubbed Blaz's downy head, allowing his presence to calm me as I relived the nightmare. “When I walked out onto the gallows and stared into the witch's smug face, the hood lowered over my head. I wish I could say I faced death wi' bravery, but it took ever' thing I had no' to scream.”

Veronica's breath caught and she looped her arm through mine, squeezing tight. I kissed her temple and then met Fergus's tormented gaze, realizing there was more than curiosity, or even distrust, in his face. If he thought he'd watched me die, then as a royal guardsman he harbored the guilt of being unable to protect me—his prince. His charge.

The best I could do was reassure him with the facts. Such as they were. “I remember my last prayers, beseeching the Protector, and then Adelaide's voice tauntin' me, promisin' my death would break Doon and its queen once and for all.” The witch's words echoed in my head, followed by flashes of Sean's fists, the never-ending pain, then Adelaide's voracious gaze as her brand burned into my skin. Fury pulsed inside me, obliterating my focus, taking me back . . .

“Jamie?”

Sharp fingers dug into my arm and I realized my entire body was tense, ready to spring. I blinked at Veronica, her aqua eyes wide with concern, her small hand running over my clenched bicep. But all I could see was the witch staring back at me through my love's face. I tore my gaze from hers and tugged my arm from her grasp.

This was
my
Veronica.

I was safe.

Free.

Like climbing a rope hand over hand, I heaved my mind back to the present and out of the horrors I'd experienced. Then I forced my muscles to relax and turned back to Vee and Fergus.

“Before I felt the drop, hands pulled me back and a deep voice said,
It is not yet your time
. The next thing I knew, I awoke in the castle gardens unharmed.”

Tears glistened in Fergus's eyes. “Do ye think . . . could it have been . . . an angel?”

“Aye, that is my belief.”

My old friend reached over and clapped me on the shoulder. “A true miracle, then.”

“But what happened after that?” Vee asked softly.

“I ran, but the witch caught me within hours.”

“So you've been her prisoner this whole time?” Her delicate brow furrowed and she shook her head. “But why didn't she kill you once she got you back? Not that I'm complaining. I just don't understand . . .”

A pain shot up my jaw and I unclenched my teeth before saying, “The witch had . . . other plans for me.”

“Jamie, whatever you've been through . . . I'm sorry.”

Her sympathy didn't help. Would she feel the same if she knew I'd murdered one of our people in cold blood? I shot to my feet. The weight of what I'd done was suddenly heavy enough to drive me into the ground.

Startled, Blaz let out a deep bark and I jumped, the abrupt noise sending my heart pounding into my ears. I shook so hard, I had to cross my arms to still their trembling.

Vee started to rise. “Jamie—”

I shot her a glare and she lowered back down.

“Where's my brother?” I couldn't trust that what Adelaide had told me was true. But if it wasn't, surely I would've seen him by now.

“He . . .” Vee started and then began again, her voice firm. “I sent him across the bridge with as many Doonians as he could take with him, in accordance with my vision.”

I gave a single nod. “And the bridge?”

Fergus answered, “ 'Tis gone. Disintegrated during the quake. We believe by the witch's magic.”

“What of the mountain pass?”

“We don't know,” Veronica said.

None of it was their fault. And yet red closed in on my vision and my pulse thrummed in my fingertips. Vee had sent Duncan out of Doon when I needed him most. And with no way to return, I may never see my brother again. Judging from the numbers of those who'd greeted me in camp, our population had dwindled to a third or less. And the witch was raising an undead army of thousands. We were as good as dead.

“I need to sleep.” And with that, I stalked off.

I found an empty pallet next to Oliver in the infirmary and collapsed upon it without removing my boots. How long had it been since I'd truly slept?

When sleep finally came, the same dream I'd had for weeks sucked me in . . .

This was it. Our last hope—my last hope.

Because if I couldn't save Doon, I couldn't save her—the girl who had become the sustainer of my soul, my strength, my light—and if I didn't have her, I would never be strong enough to lead what was left of us.

If there is anything left.

Tension buzzed through my veins as strategies and contingencies rebounded through my brain. I rolled my shoulders and
bent my head. The prayer was incoherent at best, a mantra of
deliver us, give me strength, protect her . . .

I lifted my eyes, and the outline of our beloved Brig o'Doon—our portal to the outside world—shimmered in the malevolent haze. The bitter taste of fear coated my tongue as a rhythmic beating filled the air, vibrating in my chest.

With a resounding ring, I drew my sword. The answering tone of blade, ax, and bow staff being unsheathed rang out behind me. The unity of our people was heartening, but it wasn't enough. Half the guard had been lost in the separation. These soldiers were mothers and fathers, tanners, blacksmiths, maids . . . trained in only the bare essentials of battle.

The bridge solidified with every deafening beat of my heart. Its stones becoming solid once more, I could make out the silhouettes of men on the other side. Glancing to my right, I wished to see the Captain of the Guard, my brother and friend, Duncan. Instead, I was greeted by the ashen face of Gideon MacTavish, his bald head dripping with sweat, his sword quivering as if it had a life of its own.

Saints.

In disgust, I turned back to the ominous sight on the bridge. The rising mist brought the ghostly figures into sharper view. A burst of icy wind pushed against my overheated skin, sweeping away the last of the fog, revealing the witches' army in all its malefic glory. Vacant eyes, glowing with an ethereal violet light, faces void of all expression. The sheer numbers spreading across the bridge and beyond were staggering.

Searching for affirmation—some sign that I didn't lead my people into certain death—I glanced to my left, bolstered to see my mate, Fergus, a fervor burning in his eyes to match my own. Waves of righteous fury radiated from the giant solider as he growled, “I've got yer back, Laird.”

I swallowed the last vestiges of my fear, tucking it deep down inside, then nodded my acknowledgment with a grim smile. “Aye, let's do this.”

Raising my sword high into the air I shouted, “Archers ready!”

This was it. I'd gotten us into this nightmare, now I would get us out of it—or die trying.

“For Doon and her queen!” I bellowed, pointing my sword toward our enemy. An answering cry echoed all around me and we surged forward as one.

My last thought of Vee, her aqua eyes filled with sorrow and accusation as I shut and locked the door behind me. If I lived, I only hoped she could forgive me for what I'd done.

I sat up and gasped for air. The emotion of the dream still pounding through my heart, I threw back the quilt. I knew what we had to do . . . what
I
had to do.