responded just as I hoped, with a half-hearted chuckle. I’d heard somewhere that a sense of humor meant you hadn’t gone completely off your rocker. “I think you mean post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s an interesting theory though. We should probably do some research, see what we can find about visions appearing to those called to Doon.”
“Okay — let’s not do any of that.” Vee started to protest, but I rushed on. “Wait. Just hear me out. There’s no reason to believe that we’ll have more hallucinations. For all we know, it was an isolated thing, like the adrenaline rush bus drivers get when they need to lift a car off a baby. So please don’t make a big deal about this.”
“But — ”
“No buts.” The sound of bagpipes drifted in from the coliseum, signaling we were almost out of time. If we didn’t hurry back, people would come looking for us. “Let’s pretend that nothing happened and enjoy the absence of conflict for once. We’ve got princes who adore us and a ka-lay-lee to go to.”
“A céilidh .” She pronounced it kay-lee , like a girl’s name. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
Fiona had described it as a gathering with traditional folk music and dancing. Apparently the weekly dinner-dances held in the Great Hall of Castle MacCrae were also céilidhs, but the one tonight in the village marketplace, marking the end of the highland games, would be the mother of all gatherings. In addition to dancing, there would be folk art and storytelling — the closest Doon had to a thriving arts scene.
Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out a tube of mango-granate lip gloss and handed it to Vee. “Doesn’t a Kaylee party sound better than research?”
Vee contemplated the gloss like it was a horse full of Trojan soldiers before taking it out of my hand. “Besides,” I prompted, “what do you think is going to happen if you tell Jamie about this? Do you really want to go on lockdown again?”
Even though Doc Benoir had declared Vee recovered from whatever had caused her to collapse the day that I’d decided to stay in Doon, the cause was still a mystery. And without a reasonable medical explanation, Jamie tended to hover over her like a male version of Mama Rose searching for the slightest hint of a relapse.
“Fine,” Vee capitulated, “we can chalk whatever happened out there up to PTSD — for now. But if anything like that happens again — to either one of us — we’re going to tell our friends immediately and then do everything we can to get to the bottom of it. Deal?”
She held out her hand and we shook on it. “Deal.”
After the drama of the Eldritch Limbus, we were entitled to time off for good behavior. In the last couple months we’d rescued Doon not once but twice from evil, and it was high time to enjoy the benefits of saving the world. Her Royal Highney and I had waited long enough for our happily ever afters.
CHAPTER 3
Veronica
A cool breeze from the open window flowed over the nape of my neck, chilling the sweat beading on my skin. I scrawled my name across the bottom of the page and then dripped hot wax in the corner and impressed the royal seal beside my signature. Adding the sheet to the growing pile of accepted petitions, I rubbed the now dulled points of the crown on my luckenbooth pendant. The ornament had belonged to a long-ago queen of Doon, a young girl named Lynnette who had died trying to save her kingdom from a band of witches.
Normally, the pendant brought me comfort and a sense of connection, but today it wasn’t doing its job. I tucked the long chain back into my blouse. After stealing the necklace from the forbidden ground of the witch’s cottage — the home of the very witches who had killed Lynnette while attempting to take her throne — I hadn’t shown it to anyone. Even if Kenna and I had journeyed to find the one book that could help us break the curse trying to destroy Doon, when I’d stepped foot on that cursed