Shades of Doon (2 page)

A low chuckle escaped his chest and our eyes met in silent understanding before he turned and jumped off the bleachers. Once on the field, he swung up onto Crusoe’s back, took the reins, and wheeled the horse around in one graceful, seamless motion. Then he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure I was watching.
Show off.

As Duncan guided Mabel away from the stands, Kenna shot to her feet and shouted his name. Just as he turned back, she chucked a dark ball in his direction. Duncan reached up and caught it. Then, to the delight of the crowd, Kenna yelled, “Go get ’em, ogre!”

He gave a salute and then galloped after his brother. Together, they rode to the center of the arena, where the pipers had cleared off and a group of boys were constructing a fighting ring made of ropes and weighted poles.

I glanced at my BFF just as she slipped her pale foot back into her shoe.

“Did you just give Duncan your sock?” I squeaked.

“Yep.” She nodded and then turned to me with an impish grin. “I just hope he ties it somewhere far away from his nose.”

With a hoot of laughter, I grabbed her hand and pulled her against me. “I love you.”

She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I know.”

Back on the field, Duncan was wisely attaching Kenna’s sock to the weapon holster at his waist while Jamie loosened up by rolling his neck from side to side. The brothers’ competitors had arrived — Fergus and his only slightly less mountainous cousin, Ewan Lockhart. Fergus tied the length of his strawberry-blond hair back from his face and blew someone in the audience a kiss. I leaned forward and saw Fiona catch it and hold it to her chest, giving her husband a broad wink. They had to be the cutest married couple I’d ever known.

“Esteemed ladies and gents of Doon!” the announcer boomed.

We took our seats and Kenna tilted her head to the side. “The acoustics in here are great. That guy isn’t even shouting.”

But I was barely listening. I smoothed the hair around my crown, tugged on the sleeves of my blouse, and worked to paste a calm expression on my face. I hated this part.

The announcer continued. “Today, an ancient feud that dates back hundreds of years before the Covenant will be played out before our eyes! The esteemed clan Lockhart versus the noble clan MacCrae!”

The crowd roared, the reverberation of their joined voices and stamping feet signaling the beginning of the fight. Duncan and Fergus exited the ring. Apparently this was a tag team match, and Jamie was up first.

Ewan Lockhart crouched in one corner. With his thick build, shaggy dark hair, and beard, he resembled a Sasquatch ready to pounce. In the diagonal corner, Jamie drew his weapon and bounced on the balls of his feet, my pulse jumping with him. The Doonians had been chattering about this match for
weeks, making friendly wagers and trash talking — it was the highlight of the games. Too bad I wasn’t going to get to enjoy it.

“Vee, open your eyes,” Kenna hissed. “This fight is happening whether you watch it or not.”

She had a point. I squinted open one eye and gripped the arms of my chair so hard I broke a fingernail.

The referee gave a signal and the competitors leapt forward. Jamie swung his sword in a forceful arc, the blade angled toward Ewan’s head. I leaned forward, both eyes wide as Ewan blocked the blow with a deafening clang. Their swords clashed and they forced each other across the ring and back, neither one of them gaining an advantage, until Ewan’s ham-sized fist connected with Jamie’s jaw. I cringed as he stumbled back several steps. With a shake of his head, he recovered and charged.

“Don’t worry, Vee,” Kenna whispered. “It’s not real. They’re just putting on a good show.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d seen Jamie and Duncan training in the Brother Cave. They were out for blood. Not to kill or maim, of course, but first blood was a big deal — bragging rights for weeks after. And this was a tournament in front of the entirety of Doon.

Jamie landed a kidney punch just below Ewan’s chain mail vest as Duncan and Fergus yelled advice from the sidelines. With a snarl, Ewan lunged, his blade coming within millimeters of my boyfriend’s exposed throat. Jamie dodged, but it was way too close for comfort.

Oh yeah, they were taking this seriously. I shot to my feet, but as I yelled, “Stop!” the spectators surged up around me, their screams and applause drowning me out.

Kenna made her way to her feet a moment later. “He knows what he’s doing. Have a little faith.”

As if to prove her point, Jamie landed a blow to Ewan’s back
with the flat of his sword, making the giant stagger forward. Kenna clapped in response and shouted, “Whoohoo! Go Surfer Dude!”

I choked on a laugh.
Surfer Dude
was the name she’d given Jamie when we first arrived in Doon, and it in no way described my intense, fiercely protective leader of a prince — other than his longish tawny hair, of course.

A spastic movement down in the front row caught my eye. Lachlan MacPhee, the cute boy who’d first shown me Jamie’s playful side with a mock sword-fight in the marketplace, mimicked his royal idol’s every move. He rotated his arms in a wide arc, as Jamie’s sword smashed against Ewan’s with a clang. The other pre-teens surrounding Lachlan shouted and pumped their fists like zealous fans at a professional wrestling event.

Their rapt excitement reminded me that this was supposed to be fun. But as Ewan swung wide and Jamie ducked, avoiding the blade at the last possible second, my attention riveted back on the match. Jamie rose and whirled behind the bigger guy, hooking his arm around Ewan’s neck. With a snarl, Ewan flipped Jamie over his head. Jamie landed in the dirt, but didn’t even pause. Muscles flexing, he sprang to his feet with powerful grace and the two were back at it, sparring in a complex sequence that had them dancing all over the ring.

“Oh, they’re good,” Kenna commented, not taking her eyes from the action.

Ewan charged, and one side of Jamie’s mouth curled as he climbed the ropes and then jumped and spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to his giant opponent’s chest. Ewan teetered back and then fell face-first into the dirt. Jamie, who’d landed on his feet, pumped a fist in the air and the crowd exploded in cheers. My neck and shoulders slumped, the tension breaking free. Ken was right; I needed to trust Jamie. Clearly, he could hold his own.

When Ewan staggered to his feet but couldn’t maintain his balance, Duncan and Fergus tagged in. The size discrepancy between Duncan and Fergus was roughly the same as Jamie and his opponent, but the bigger guys moved with less agility and more force. As Duncan and Fergus clashed swords, Kenna stilled beside me. I smirked and opened my mouth to tease her, but bit back the comment when Fergus disarmed Duncan, his sword clanking across the ring.

A hush descended on the audience and my vision went blurry. I rubbed my temples and took a few cleansing breaths before I opened my eyes and — saw a car on the far side of the arena. Not a horse-drawn wagon or a carriage. A freaking modern-day car.

Shimmering like a mirage, the dull red Toyota chugged along and cruised behind the ring. My veins turned to ice as my eyes followed the vehicle until it vanished from view.

Someone to my left gasped, and I twisted to see my assistant, Emily, clapping. Back in the ring, Duncan had regained his sword. My eyes locked on Jamie as he gripped the ropes, shouting at his brother. But it was like I watched him through a window screen. I blinked, desperate to recalibrate my vision, but the walls of the stadium, the people, even the bleachers began to fade around me. The noise of the crowd became muffled, sounding farther and farther away. The floor tilted beneath me. This could not be happening again.

Was Doon disappearing, or was I?

CHAPTER 2

Mackenna

H
oly Schwartz!
I watched the red car disappear down an asphalt lane that had materialized in the center of the coliseum. The ground, which had been flat dirt moments ago, was now covered in gently sloping grass littered with billboards. Duncan, Jamie, and the rest of the Doonians shimmered like ghostly mirages while I grappled with my bearings.

Queasy and coated in a fine sheen of sweat, I dug my nails into the palms of my hands — an old trick for stage fright. The sharp sensation pulled my focus inward and away from the cirque du bizarre happening in the arena. Around me I heard the crowd cheer, but it was muted, as if someone had turned the sound down low.

I took a deep breath as I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again — the road was still there. A blue minicar appeared, following in the red car’s path. At the opposite end of the stadium, a flatbed truck barreled toward the tiny car at high speed.

This had to be some sort of sun-induced delusion. Heat stroke or something. Squinting skyward, I discounted the
explanation almost immediately. The early morning sun had not yet crested the stadium bleachers. And the temperatures were fall-like, not scorching.

My surroundings were eerily quiet, and although I could still see the Doonians, my head ached when I tried to focus on them. Beside me, I heard Vee’s unmistakable yogic breathing. I glanced in her direction and then followed her wide-eyed stare to the impending collision of the truck and the car.

Without so much as a honk of its horn, the truck smashed into the much smaller vehicle. The sickening crunch of twisting metal filled my ears, along with a strange buzzing noise. The sound surged and became thunderous cheers as Doon snapped back into place. The car accident was gone, leaving me with a discomforting sense of vertigo as I noted Duncan and Jamie standing over their disarmed opponents. They’d won the match.

Fighting the urge to barf, I clapped for Team MacCrae, whom I’d dubbed
Surfer Dude
and the
Amazing Ogre
in honor of Vee’s and my first time in Doon. So much had happened since then. My Indiana bestie had defeated the evil witch and, in doing so, became queen of the legendary Scottish kingdom. I’d faced my fears in order to destroy the zombie fungus and gotten a second chance at happily ever after with the boy of my dreams. It was the stuff of fairy tales . . . and yet, Cinderella’s epilogue had never included delusions of a head-on collision between two horseless carriages.

I glanced at Vee, who was wildly applauding her Charming. She had that manic aspect of someone committed to avoiding their present reality. When she caught my eye, her facade cracked. Her face turned a sickly shade of yellowish-green that mirrored how I felt on the inside.

Jamie, Duncan, Fergus, and Ewan exited at the opposite end of the arena. Guessing that we would not see them again until
they’d cleaned up, I placed my hand under Vee’s elbow and lifted her to her feet as I stood. “The queen and I need to use the royal restroom.”

Vee’s brow furrowed. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, I do.” I tugged at her sleeve. “Are you sure you don’t need to tinkle?”

Tinkle
was the code word we’d used in junior high when we wanted to chat privately in the girl’s room. Vee’s eyes widened slightly as she nodded. “Actually, I do need to go.”

As she stepped toward the back of the royal box, Emily Roosevelt and Gabriela Rosetti, who’d recently joined the royal entourage as Vee’s ladies-in-waiting, moved to follow. Vee stopped them with a wave of her hand. “Thanks, but I think Kenna and I can do this alone.”

In tandem, we climbed down the stairs and walked a short distance away from the festivities to a short brick structure. There were several such bathrooms ringing the arena, but only one had a private guard and required a crown to enter. This particular building had two doors, one for the king and another for the queen.

The guard stepped aside and we entered a private sitting room. Divans and oversized ottomans in plush cream fabrics dotted the area. Interspersed tables provided a variety of fruit, sweets, and drinks — all decidedly unappetizing after what I’d just witnessed.

Vee headed straight to a set of sinks at the back of the room, where she turned on the taps and splashed water over her face. One of my first and most favorite discoveries about the kingdom of Doon had been its running water — a pleasant surprise given the medieval kingdom’s lack of other modern conveniences like electricity, refrigeration, and microwaves.
Yay for modern plumbing!

My bestie took her time patting her face dry before speaking. “What’s up, Ken?”

She looked so composed that I instantly doubted what I thought I knew. “Uh,” I stammered, unsure how to begin. “That was a surprising turn of events out there.”

Her brow pinched. “You mean with Jamie and Duncan? ’Cause they were the favorite to win, regardless of Fiona’s trash talk.”

Though Vee and I shared a brain more often than not, this didn’t seem to be one of those times. Rather than fish for confirmation that my hunch about her was correct, I blurted out, “Cars. I saw cars. Actually — two cars and a truck, and they collided with a crunch and I’m pretty sure I’m Coco Puffs.”

The corner of Vee’s lip twitched, and then her careful composure cracked with a gigantic sigh. “Oh, thank heavens.”

“That I’m cuckoo?”

She shook her head as she sank onto a plushy divan. “That you saw it too. I thought it was just me — that I was getting sick again or something.”

I sat in the chair opposite her and searched her vibrant blue eyes. “So we’re both crazy?”

“No. It means what we saw was real.”

Her words were hardly reassuring. “So how come the villagers didn’t freak out?”

“Kenna, you really have to stop referring to the other citizens as ‘the villagers.’ You’re one of them now. They’re not about to come after you with pitchforks.”

No matter how many times Vee said that, I still felt like an outsider. Duncan said to give it time, so I was trying not to obsess about being the new kid on the block. But I was mentally digressing. Returning to the topic of tales from the weird side, I said pointedly, “No one else seemed to see the collision except us.”

“I’m not sure why.” Vee bit at her lip, signifying she was
deep in thought. “None of the other Destined seemed to see it either. Just us . . . Maybe it has something to do with our gifts, or our connection to the Rings of Aontacht or the modern world. Or maybe — ”