Forever Doon (8 page)

He smiled gratefully and reached across the table for my hand. “Aye. Rabbie and Eòran can start military drills in the morning while you and I go to see the solicitor.”

“What for?”

“To see if we can accelerate the rebuilding of the Brig o' Doon.”

The MacCraes' lawyer had pulled out all the stops in cutting through the red tape that hindered rebuilding the bridge. Apparently, permits and special approvals were inconsequential when you had more wealth than a small country.

Being crazy rich also came in handy as inspiration for the most qualified architectural firm around to drop everything for the Scotland job, at ten-times their quoted rate. But no amount of money could get their team—their master craftsmen and masons—to work faster than humanly possible.

When I said as much to Duncan he laughed. “Oh ye o' little faith, woman. We canna make them work faster, but we can add a second shift of builders—utilize all twenty-four hours in the day. We'll have the solicitors negotiate the terms.”

“Will the local officials sign off on that?” Initially, they'd been a huge barrier with their concerns about private financing, until Duncan's lawyer pointed out the obvious—they were getting a historical re-creation for free!

“I dinna see why not. Especially if we make another donation to the parish.” He paused, his magnetic eyes sparkling with hope. “Do you realize what this means, love? We might be able to return home in as little as a fortnight.”

Despite Duncan's elation, chills crawled across my skin. Restoring the bridge and training an army meant that in two weeks' time we could be fighting to take back our home. Although I'd thought about that moment a thousand times, and even pictured my friends fighting to the death, I'd never thought about my role. What would I do, what
could
I do? Stage fencing wouldn't keep me or those I loved alive.

I stood and stepped around the table as Duncan gracefully rose to meet me halfway. “I want to ask you for something. It's really important to me.”

Duncan smiled his bone-melting crooked grin and pulled me into his arms. “I will give ye anything. The moon, the stars. I'll tether the sun and stop it in its orbit if that be my lady's pleasure.”

“It's nothing so dramatic.” I chuckled. His fingers caressed my back in soft, warm circles. “When we return to Doon, I plan on fighting alongside you. I want you to teach me.”

The lopsided smile melted from his face as he released me. “No.”

Then he walked away.

I
gnoring the damp hair whipping around my face, I focused on the weight of the carved bone handle in my palm and leveled the blade, envisioning Addie's face as my target. Not allowing another second for doubt, I threw the dagger. It spun end over end, silvered edge catching a glint of late-afternoon sun before sinking into the tree with a thud. The engraved hilt vibrated at the edge of the target. I'd hit it. Again. We'd been at knife-throwing practice for a good hour, and I now rarely missed.

Ewan let out a whoop and jogged to retrieve the knife. Before he could remove it, I followed in his wake to inspect the impact of the weapon. As I suspected, it had barely pierced the ridge between two strips of bark, and would likely fall to the ground if I breathed on it hard.

I lifted a finger and pressed down, letting the handle drop into my open palm. “This isn't good enough.”

“What do ye mean? You're a natural!” Ewan stumbled back as if I'd wounded him, his brows arching comically.

Oliver approached. “Your aim could use a bit of refinement, but that will come with repetition.” I'd recruited our resident genius to join our retrieval mission to the castle and help with my training, but his perfectionism had begun to wear on my nerves.

I didn't have time for repetition. We were breaking into a literal fortress in less than five hours, no matter who tried to talk me out of it. I gripped the knife handle and shoved it under Oliver's nose. “What is this little knife going to do against a supernaturally powered zombie? When we faced Drew in the limbus, he wasn't even alive. And I have no doubt Addie's cooking up some similar undead weapon against us. Zombies don't stop if a tiny knife sticks in their chest. They just keep coming. Cut off their arm—they keep coming. I could throw a hundred of these daggers at one of Addie's minions and—”

“It would keep coming, eh?”

I whipped around to find Analisa watching our exchange, arms crossed, head cocked in her usual arrogant manner. We were on the outskirts of the camp in a partially wooded glen, but apparently privacy didn't exist in our tight community.

I gave Analisa a tight nod and then turned back to Oliver. “Stop coddling me. I need a weapon that will do real damage.”

“Aye, Yer Majesty.” Oliver's chin bobbed, but I could tell he had no clue what to do with me.

With an impatient huff, I stalked away. Ewan followed. “Perhaps the arrow machine the Laird purchased in the modern world?”

As we'd packed up our camp near the site of the Brig o' Doon, the Crew had found the items Jamie and I had purchased at the mall in Indiana when we'd been trapped outside of Doon. There were bags of baseball caps, bats, gloves, Royals and Giants jerseys—enough equipment to outfit two entire
baseball teams. When we'd returned that long-ago night, we'd had to abandon the bags at the edge of the bridge, and in the chaos that followed, the purchases had been entirely forgotten.

The moment I'd opened the first bag, all I could see was Jamie's dimpled grin as he tugged a cap low over his eyes and dragging me off to eat churros. We'd never had the chance to form our teams for the epic World Series of Doon.

It had taken every bit of strength I possessed to hold it together as I'd asked Fergus to distribute the items as needed. The bats in particular could be of use in battle. But I'd forgotten about the weapons from the sporting goods store.

I stopped to consider Ewan's suggestion. “The crossbow is a last resort. I'd like to conserve the arrows. If it comes to a battle, we'll need to give it to our best archer and position them as a sniper.”

Analisa joined us. “Good plan. What you need now is a masakari, isn't it?”

In no mood for the girl's cryptic comments, I arched a brow. “Contrary to popular belief, I am
not
a ninja. Interpretation?”

“A small throwing axe,” Analisa explained. “Light and perfectly balanced, but deadly.”

“A hatchet, ye mean?” Ewan's eyes lit and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Aye! I know just the thing.” He spun away, but hadn't gone three steps before he turned back and dipped into a hasty bow. “Pardon me, my queen.”

“You're fine, Ewan.”

He stayed bent at the waist.

I waved him away. “You may go.”

He straightened with a grin, and then took off at a sprint.

“Looks like you have a mate for life,” Oliver commented.

My stomach did a tight roll before I quipped, “I hope you mean the Australian version of mate.”

He shrugged. “That too.”

I set my jaw and lifted my chin. “Ewan is a loyal friend, and I need all those I can get at the moment.” I leveled my gaze on him until he nodded.

“Speaking of which.” Analisa cleared her throat, her features tightening with resolve. “Will your plan accommodate a fourth?”

I blinked and tugged down the hem of my tunic. Our mission to sneak into the castle and retrieve the elixir wasn't common knowledge. “How did you—?”

Ana rolled her dark eyes and shook her head until the long side of her asymmetrical bob covered half of her face. With an impatient puff, she blew the hair out of her eyes. “Thief, remember? Which is precisely why you need me, eh?”

The girl had grown up on the London streets, blending in and stealing to survive. I had no idea how she did it, but she always seemed to know things before I wanted her to.

“Need you fer what, Ana?” Ewan jogged up beside me and lifted a canvas bag with a triumphant grin. I could only assume the sack contained throwing axes.

“Ana wishes to join us tonight.” The advantages of her going on a mission to rob the castle were undeniable. I turned to Ewan in question.

“The supply boat 'tis small and will only accommodate three of us because we'll need ta lie flat on our belly's to remain undetected.”

Ewan's plan to enter the castle involved a pontoon-like wooden boat that delivered goods to the castle via a little-used door beneath the kitchens. As the providers of farmed goods to the royal pantry, his family members were the only ones who knew where the key was hidden.

“Then I need to go in your place . . .” Analisa hesitated before bowing her head in a rare show of deference. “Your Majesty.”

“Or Oliver can stay behind?” Ewan suggested.

Oliver looped his thumbs into his belt and widened his stance. “I'm the only one who can unhook the generator and collapse the wind turbine without damaging it.”

I nodded. The power generator he'd built on the southeast battlements could be invaluable for our small camp. I wasn't sure how, exactly, but with Oliver's brain for invention, the possibilities were endless.

“I've stolen for you before.” Analisa's gaze didn't waver. “Let me do this. You're too valuable to risk.”

A light mist began to fall and I blinked the dewdrops from my lashes. Part of me knew Ana had a good point, but another, stronger part argued that if I had the elixir in hand, I might be able to end Addie and this nightmare once and for all. But Oliver and Ewan's plan didn't account for me searching the castle for a witch. They had our steps mapped out down to the second. In and out in twenty minutes. Any more and we were less likely to come out alive. Which brought me back to the logic of Ana's point.

“I can't deny that your particular skill set would be of use, but . . .” I hesitated. When she'd vowed fealty to the throne, she'd earned an additional level of protection from Addie. It didn't make my subjects immune to the witch's spells, but somehow we were able to resist her enthrallment and could not be killed directly by her magic. Unfortunately, none of us were immune to death by non-magical weapons, including me. “I need to do this.”

Ana shot me a cocky grin. “I swear I can get in and out without being seen.”

The girl was stealthy for sure, and yet, something inside me rebelled at letting her take my place. I had two objectives in life—two things that got me out of my bedroll each morning:
1) Keep the Doonians safe. 2) Take out Jamie's killer no matter what the cost.

I could trust no one else to accomplish either. But this particular mission was only a step toward those goals.

Pain shot into my temple, and I forced myself to unclench my jaw. “I'll think about it.”

Ana gave a single nod and then took the weapons bag from Ewan. “Then let's start ninja training.”

My neck and shoulders burned like fire and my right arm felt dislocated from my body, but I kept throwing. Analisa was a relentless taskmaster, which was exactly what I needed. The sun would soon set and then we'd have a few hours to eat, rest, and go over the plan one last time. The question was—would I be a part of it?

“Throw it again, Highney. This time, try to hit somewhere in the vicinity of the center.”

Too tired for a snappy comeback, I glared at her, wishing my best friend were there to put the smart-apple in her place. Kenna had a way of letting me fight my own battles until she sensed I needed her, then she'd jump in with both feet. I missed her something terrible. Letting my sorrow fuel my next throw, I chucked the axe with all of my strength. But I forgot to anchor my feet, and the moment the handle left my fingers, I toppled forward. The hazy sun winked out and in a snap I was back on my feet with an axe, poised to throw.

“Check out the Warrior Princess.”

Sure I was hearing things, I lowered my throwing arm and turned toward the sound of my best friend's voice. Kenna, in her favorite
Playbill
-covered pajama set, sat on a nearby crate, elbows on knees, face propped in her hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your dream, silly.” She straightened and then glanced around. “I'm proud of you.”

My chest ached with longing. I wanted to run and throw my arms around her, but I knew she wasn't really there. Desperate to talk to my BFF, even if she was imaginary, I took a step forward and asked, “Why?”

“Winter is gone.”

The snow turning to rain, the warmer air, the line of lavender and yellow crocuses sprouting by the stream, had been in the back of my mind all day. The clues were right in front of me, but I didn't put it together until I met Kenna's smoky gaze. “The ruler of Doon is tied to the weather.”

She smiled. “Her
strength
dictates the weather.”

Because I'd chosen to lead and stop allowing my grief to dominate me, the Protector had rewarded us all. That thought made my heart beat faster. I had to continue to make right choices. But in the case of sneaking into the castle, I didn't know the best course. Ana had skills, no doubt.

I took a step closer to my best friend. “Should I let Ana go on the mission for me?”

Kenna tossed a lock of red hair over one shoulder and shrugged. “Do you want her to?”

“No.” But maybe what I wanted wasn't the most important factor. “Ana is way more qualified in breaking and entering. And if something happens to me, who's going to lead the people? Take out the witch?”

Kenna's virtual doppelgänger began to blur at the edges. “I have faith that you'll figure it out.” She waved. “See ya later, Wonder Woman!”

I stumbled toward her fading image. “Wait! Please, don't go . . .”

The scene reset and I lifted my arm to throw the axe at the target.

“Straighten yer wrist, Verranica.”

The blood froze in my veins. I'd recognize that honeyed brogue if I were six feet under and had worms crawling in and out of my ears. I shifted my gaze to see Jamie, in all his kilted glory, leaning against a tree, one booted foot crossed in front of the other. His intense, dark gaze captured mine, connecting to my soul. In that way only he could.

And my heart imploded.
This isn't real. It's just a dream. It isn't real. He's gone.

“ 'Tis no' a dream, love. We are connected by our Calling.”

Not anymore.
I forced my gaze away from him, straightened my wrist, and threw the axe. It hit the target dead center.

“Tha's it.”

“You need to go. I can't handle this.” My voice broke before I could continue. “In my dreams is one thing, but a waking vision . . . I . . . that's something else.” I couldn't start seeing him around every corner, like I had before I came to Doon. My precarious sanity—my fragile strength—couldn't take it.

“I'm here for a reason.” He pushed off the tree and strode forward, extending his hand. “To show ye somethin'.” He reached toward me.

I stared at his strong fingers, broad palm marked by a map of callouses—real in every vivid detail. I lifted my gaze to the glow of his golden-brown eyes and his lips quirked, drawing out a dimple in his right cheek.

Forget strength!
If this wasn't real, I never wanted to wake up.

I rushed forward and reached for him. The moment our fingers touched, images exploded across my eyes.