ever been easy? The Protector’s ways are not always our ways. Events may not happen the way we think they should, but they will always work out for our best if we have faith.”
“But the newcomers, some of them are just kids. They’re not soldiers. No matter how much they train, they’re not ready to fight a supernatural war.”
Fiona squeezed my hand. “I’ve seen Duncan do a lot more with a worse lot.”
Duncan had taken a small group into Glasgow to get supplies for Oliver’s explosives. At the suggestion of a blue-haired girl from Vancouver, they were also picking up nylon rope, fishing line, and duct tape. Her idea—and it was a good one—was to set traps in the tree lines that didn’t appear to be threats, like trip lines and sticky barriers, in hopes that the skellies would walk right into them and destroy themselves. But a good idea didn’t make us warriors.
“I promise ye, Kenna. When this is over and we’re standin’ on the other side, you’ll see how everythin’ worked out exactly as it should’ve and better than anything ye could’ve asked for.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
She was right. I had to trust that the Protector wouldn’t lead us into a bloodbath. Regardless of how we got here, the path would lead us to a final showdown with Adelaide Blackmore Cadell. Too much had happened to believe we would not win. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be casualties. Some would surrender their lives for the sake of the cause. Fiona was prepared to do so—so were Duncan and Jamie and Fergus. So was Vee . . . and I was as well.
But that battle was in the future. Right now, in this moment, I needed to cherish my life and the people in it, especially one thick-headed ogre who had traveled across worlds more than once to find me.
CHAPTER 34
Jamie
The morn dawned in an eruption of larks heralding the new day. Clouds, like flames shooting across the sky, filled the landscape with brilliant hues. Each sound, each color, moved over my skin like a master painter’s brush on canvas. The overall portrait was one of joy, almost as if Doon rejoiced along with us.
Our ceremony was set to begin within the hour, with a celebration breakfast to follow. I stretched my sore limbs and breathed the crisp air. Duncan had near beat me senseless the day before, but I’d take the pain again and again if it led to the same outcome—Veronica’s absolution.
I felt as if I’d been carrying a devil on my back, its lies sinking into my flesh, clouding my every thought, and now it was gone. I was free. The storm had passed, but another brewed just over the horizon. I stretched my arms to the sky, power buzzing through my muscles. Adelaide may have plotted and schemed for centuries to gain vengeance and sit on the throne of Doon, but vengeance was not hers to take and I would defend the throne with my life—fighting for something you believed in was a blessing. My father had taught me that. But I knew everyone I loved would fight alongside me, and therein lay the heart of my fear.
Finding a quiet spot in the forest, I dropped to my knees. The Protector had proven over the centuries that he used the weak to defeat the strong, and I asked for him to do this once again. For an army of peace-loving Doonians to defeat Adelaide’s supernatural soldiers, it would take a miracle. Fortunately, Doon had been built on miracles.
After concluding my prayers, I returned to my tent to finish dressing. There was much to be done in preparation for battle—weapons forged, strategies and counter-tactics finalized, squadron drills . . . the list went on, but first, I would make the girl who ruled my kingdom and my heart officially mine. A handfasting before the Divine Ruler bound a couple body and soul; the marriage rite just a slip of parchment. For me, this meant forever. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I entered the clearing, my heart swelled at the sight of our people, all five hundred of them packed elbow to elbow in the glade we’d been using for training. Rushes had been laid on the ground to control the mud and someone had created an altar of sorts. Reverend Guthrie greeted me from the other side of a trellis made of sticks and vines with white flowers cascading down the sides.
Sharron