Shades of Doon (38 page)
I clung to Duncan as the bridge pitched and stones dropped from the structure into the rushing river below. Glancing down I could see the Brig o’ Doon splitting in half beneath our feet. If we fell into the icy river below, where would we end up? Alloway or Doon?
“Hold fast!” Duncan barked at me. Worried for my friends, I glanced back to Doon as the latest wave of destruction reached the field. Tossed by an unseen force, bodies flew through the air. In that moment I realized it was indeed a tidal wave — not of water, but of purple magic.
Unable to look away, I yelled out to Sofia and the rest of the Rosettis to hurry. Just as Lachlan stepped onto the bridge, something slammed into me. Like Jack and Jill, Duncan and I tumbled down the far side of the sloped bridge and onto the grassy riverbank of Alloway. As the world stopped spinning, I realized that Eòran had been the something that knocked us forward.
With a curse at the badger-like guard, Duncan hauled me to my feet. My ring no longer emitted any light — white, green, or
otherwise. And the bridge — the bridge was missing. Not collapsed in ruin or lying in cobbled chunks across the riverbank . . . the Brig o’ Doon had disappeared.
Lachlan, Blaz, Sofia, the other Rosettis, Analisa, and all the rest of the Doonians were gone.
A
ir rushed into my lungs and I jolted forward.
What in all that’s holy?
Snow-laden trees bowed like sentinels around a frozen fountain, their heavy branches almost touching the ice-glazed lions in its center. I’d splashed in that pool as a boy.
Either the hereafter looked exactly like Doon, or, miraculously, I still lived.
I squeezed my aching temples and memories rushed back — Addie screeching about Veronica paying for her escape, a hood being lowered over my head, the earth quaking, and as I uttered my last prayer, hands gripping my arms and pulling me back.
“It is not yet your time.”
And then I’d awoken here in the castle garden.
My chest constricted. A miracle, indeed.
But what of my people? And
Veronica?
The air cracked as a wave of violet shook the trees, preceding an ungodly shriek. “MacCrae!”
That would be Addie discovering she hadn’t killed me as
planned. I leapt to my feet at a dead run — past the shrub maze, down the steps, and into the forest.
When Vee escaped, she would’ve gathered the people and led them away from the castle. But which direction? I paused in the lee of the dungeon entrance, the sharp wind like needles against my exposed skin.
Knowing her logical mind, my queen would seek shelter and weapons.
The hunting lodge.
I headed east into the woods. With only a dusting of snow beneath the canopy of branches, there were no tracks, but there would be other signs that hundreds had passed this way.
I slowed, searching for broken twigs, trampled grass, missing bark. And found nothing. Had they gone to the catacombs?
A piercing howl echoed through the forest, and I heard distant footfalls, followed by shouts.
“I saw somethin’!”
“There!”
“Through the trees!”
As much as I longed to turn and fight, without weapons it would do me little good. I dashed left, leapt over a fallen log and up the hill. Few people knew this forest better than I. Except perhaps Gideon. I forced my legs faster.
A hot wind brushed my face, swirling around me, warming my icy skin. I stalled and pivoted toward it, soaking in the exquisite heat and breathing in the magic.
Saints!
Shaking off the enticement, I sprinted in the opposite direction.
I had to find them — I had to find
her
.
Veronica had been right; together we were stronger. But in the witch’s clutches, we became each other’s weakness. Capture was not an option.
No longer hearing my pursuers, I jumped, caught the branch of a large oak, swung up, and climbed as high as I dared. Since the winter had come unnaturally early, there were plenty of leaves to conceal me. I settled into the intersection of two branches and leaned against the trunk to wait. The last time I’d climbed a tree, my idiotic brother’d woken a wasp’s nest and we’d both fallen — nay,
leapt
to the ground. I flexed my left arm as my throat tightened. I’d come close to losing him that day. Lifting my face to the sky, I prayed he’d found safety. And that Veronica was with him.
I could trust Duncan with anything, even the one who defined my world. I reached into my pocket and fingered the single azure ribbon I’d kept from the set I’d given her. Providence had gifted us a second chance.
“I will find you, my heart. And I
will
keep my promise.”
C
o-writing a series continues to be a challenging and rewarding labor of love. Thankfully, so many of you have crossed the bridge with us to DOON.
Thank you to:
The Protector,
who orders our hearts, minds, and steps. Without Him, there would be no Doon.
Jacque Alberta
, for seeing Doon in the weather, and for living and breathing this series right along with us.
The
Blink
and
Zondervan
team, for giving us the tools and support to bring the Dooniverse to the world.
Agent extraordinaire
Nicole Resciniti
, for being the first person to convert to Doonism.
Melissa Landers,
our critique partner and friend, for providing benchmarking and much needed counterbalance. Can’t wait to write that Doon-Alienated crossover. ;)
The
Booktubers
and
Bloggers
, especially Sasha Alsberg, Ben Alderson, Tiernan Bertrand-Essington, and Daniela Diaz for loving this series and helping countless readers to cross the bridge. We’re so proud to call you friends!
The
Doon Street Team
, Amber, Amanda C., Jules, Ang, Tracy, Stephanie, Sara, Amanda S., Charity, Debz, Jessica, Rachel, Kathryn, Winona N., and Cameron, a heartfelt thank you for sharing your love of Doon with the online world and celebrating our small victories!
Mike Heath
, for continuing to outdo himself one Doon cover at a time.
Artist J.C. Anguiano
for his inspired Doon creations. Your illustrations are amazing!
All the
Doonians
who pour out their love of this series in art, edits, fan accounts, and encouragement on social media. You make the Dooniverse come alive!!!
Lorie would like to thank:
Tom for listening to me babble about logic issues and plot holes and the occasional prince in a kilt; Ben for sharing my love of musical inspiration; Alex for the best, most encouraging hugs on the planet; my parents, Bruce and Dinah Luneke, for your unwavering belief; Toby and Jerry Moeggenberg for your love and support; and the friends of my heart — Kelly Moe, Tricia Lacey, Laurie Pezzot, Lisa Litz, Jen Egbert — I don’t spend near as much time with you as I would like, but know that you have each shaped who I am today, and I appreciate you more than you know!
Carey would like to thank:
Athena and Harrison, who support my dreams and tolerate my schedule and burnt dinners; my mom for stalking readers at her local bookstore until they buy my books; Jonathan Hunter for cheering me onward and upward; the amazing folks at Crossroads Church for nourishing my spirit; Skerryvore — whose music provided so much of the emotional landscape for my chapters; my dear friends for their overwhelming enthusiasm — especially Kelly Harris, Nancy Hemingway, Mary Jo Vanden Berg, Erica Bardeau, Tricia Giltner, the Jones Family (Roger, Judy, Madison & Megan); and my hometown peeps from Vacaville, CA!
