Shivers racked my body as I admitted, “I knew it. In my dreams I saw him touch the journal and die. So I kept the book a secret for his protection. Fiona, is he …” my throat closed, but I choked out the last word. “Alive?”
“Aye.”
I grasped the back of the nearest pew as bittersweet relief swept over me. It wasn’t too late. But we still had to save him.
Duncan began to walk the length of the tiny room. He paced like a caged animal whose only wish was to run free. “Where do we find my brother?”
Fiona made a few more silent petitions. “The witch compelled him ta come ta her. He crossed the Brig o’ Doon on horseback as soon as it opened. But—I canna see beyond the bridge.”
Impatient for action, Duncan gripped the hilt of his weapon. “Please, lass. Try.”
With a small nod, Fiona reached toward me. “Will ye help me, please, Veronica?”
“Me?” I squeaked. “What can I do?”
Fiona gravely met my eyes as she reached for my hand. “Ye’ve experienced waking visions of Jamie and dreams regarding our kingdom, have ye not?”
I nodded, the vision of the witch in the king’s chamber flashing in my mind as she placed the gold and ruby ring in my palm. “Ye’ll need this.”
Regardless of the things I’d seen, I was skeptical, but I’d do anything to help Jamie. So I let Fiona lead me toward the flickering light of the journal.
“Dinna be afraid.” The violet flames reflected in Fiona’s eyes, turning them an eerie purple. “Put the ring on and focus with all yer heart on overcoming the witch’s evil—and finding yer true love.”
I slipped on the ring, and squeezed my eyes closed as Fiona raised our joined hands over the burning book. My terror morphed into a living thing breathing down my neck, my thoughts ricocheting between Jamie’s blank stare after he took the journal to Addie’s gloating face to Jamie lying dead at my feet. Clenching my teeth, I squeezed Fiona’s fingers. My pulse accelerated, forcing rapid breaths from my lungs. I would not allow the witch to win.
I lowered my hand and peeked at the burning book; the flames danced before me, taunting me. Nothing had changed. In desperation, I turned to Fiona. “It’s not working! I can’t do this.”
Fiona’s calm voice urged me on. “Ye have ta let go of yer fear and be a vessel. Let yourself believe, Veronica.”
The pages of Aunt Gracie’s journal began to flip wildly as the violet blaze turned to ice and shattered with a heart-stopping explosion. Shards of frozen flames blanketed Fiona and I with frigid purple debris as we rocked backward. Fiona’s wide eyes radiated shock as she steadied herself. “The witch’s curse has shattered. It’s broken.”
Instead of feeling relief and a sense of accomplishment as I leaned over the book and examined the unmarred pages, dread bloomed in my chest.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Kenna moved closer to stand beside me.
My hand trembled as I reached out and touched the journal. In a flash, I could see Jamie—bound, his face slack in unconsciousness, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The vision faded, but the image stayed imprinted on my mind’s eye.
I blinked away the horrifying picture and answered Kenna’s question. “I don’t think so. It means she doesn’t need it anymore … because she has something better. She has Jamie.”
Duncan swore and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All she has to do is keep him until the Brig o’ Doon closes. If the ruler o’ Doon fails to return by the end of the Centennial …” His words faded out.
Fiona finished the terrible truth as Fergus reached for her hand. “… the Covenant will be broken, and Doon will vanish inta the mists of oblivion forever.”
“And she wins.” Rage pumped through my veins, screaming for an outlet. I closed the journal with a bang. “But we’re not going to let that happen. Are we?”
On cue, they snapped out of their collective despair. “Nay!”
“Of course, not!”
“We fight—to the death if need be!”
“For Doon!”
As they spoke over one another, their actions became focused and decisive. Fiona said a short prayer, Duncan and Fergus quickly inventoried their weapons, and Kenna met my gaze, resolution blazing in her eyes.
“Let’s go!” I grabbed the journal and led our ragtag rescue team back down the aisle of the chapel.
“Where, exactly, are we going?” Kenna touched my arm as we moved into the dim corridor.
“Alloway.” Practically running, I turned the corner toward the stables. The fastest way to the bridge was on horseback.
“What’s the plan?” Kenna asked, keeping pace with me.
“Rescue Jamie. Save Doon. Take Addie down.”
That was it. My master plan boiled down to seven little words. It sounded so simple, so straightforward. But how to accomplish it was a different matter. I had no idea how to find Jamie or win against a wicked witch with supernatural powers. But I did know that I would fight for the people I loved, no matter the cost. If ever in my life I’d needed to stand and fight, it was now.
I was done running.
CHAPTER 32
Veronica
The bridge should’ve been open. I blinked again and willed my burning eyes to see something different. But it was no use. The Brig o’ Doon remained a ruin surrounded by impenetrable walls of swirling mist, as if the Centennial hadn’t happened.
Upon our arrival, Fiona had discerned a powerful curse that kept the portal to Alloway from opening. But I refused to believe the Protector of Doon would bring us all this way and then let evil win. There had to be another way.
Fergus and Duncan had gone in separate directions, to search the borders for any opening that might get us to Alloway. Fiona and Kenna, meanwhile, sat huddled in their elaborate gowns on the cold stone ground, the former engaged in supernatural introspection while the later dozed with her head slumped against her knees. Both girls appeared to twitch in the flickering light of the torches at the base of the bridge.
All too aware of the minutes ticking away, I turned to Fiona. “Any idea what time it is out there?” I tipped my head in the direction of where Alloway should have been. Wherever Jamie was, time was passing differently, more quickly but in a way I didn’t have enough data to quantify.
Fiona’s hazel eyes brimmed with fear not only for her king but for all those she loved. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded thick with despair. “Nay. I wasna born at the last Centennial.”
Her anguish mirrored my own. I wanted to ask her if she sensed anything that could help us, but I didn’t want to add to her misery. I knew if she had, she’d have said so. She was pushing herself nearly as hard as I was.
Instead, I paced the cobbled stones at the mouth of the Brig o’ Doon. Each pass caused my legs to ache a bit more. Without a clear focus for my energy, fatigue started to set in. After an indeterminable amount of time, Duncan’s sputtering lamp materialized in the heavily wooded forest. A moment later shadows leapt in the opposite direction announcing Fergus had returned as well.
