Near-death experiences … Broadway would have us believe that they serve a greater purpose, like bringing reluctant lovers together. In some instances, it might be true. But for other relationships, it’s the trigger that shatters them apart like glass. What these events don’t do is significantly change the game. After the danger passes, the obstacles from before are still there, patiently waiting for the opportunity to dominate our lives once again.
Apparently, the other thing near death caused was fatigue. After a brief account of the blizzard and the hunting lodge, Vee crashed. By the time Fiona brought tea, she was sawing logs.
Not wanting to spend the evening alone, I invited Fiona to stay. I wasn’t sure she would, since my bestie had instigated Snowmageddon. But I liked to think that Fiona had become the kind of friend who would stand by us, mistakes and all.
Just to be sure, I decided to attack the elephant in the room head on. “You’re probably counting the seconds until the bridge opens tomorrow night, huh?”
Fiona placed the tea service on the little table in front of the settee and began to prepare our cups. “Far from it. I’ll be quite sad ta see you and Veronica go.”
“After we nearly destroyed your kingdom? Doubtful.”
The girl pushed a lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear and made a noise that sounded like piffttt. “It’s good ta be reminded of our own mortality now and again. Reminds us what’s really important in the final moments.”
“And what would that be—for you?” The moment the question fell from my lips, I couldn’t help but answer for myself. The image of the dark-haired prince with an easy smile and a fierce love of his realm filled my thoughts.
Fiona paused thoughtfully. “If it were truly the end, I’d want ta be with the person I loved best in all the world.”
Her expression was so strange—so astute and knowing—that I couldn’t help but worry she could read minds. Specifically mine. Averting my gaze, I folded a plaid blanket I’d left in a heap on the floor. “But you never thought the kingdom was coming to an end, did you?”
“Nay. I’ve faith you and Vee were both brought to Doon for a purpose. Ye couldna undo the Covenant unless it was the Protector’s will.” Finished preparing tea, she uncovered a tray of delicious-looking pastries. “My mum says I’ve a divine gift. Sight o’ the supernatural.”
“Isn’t that like demons and zombies and stuff? I thought Doonians didn’t believe in magic.”
“The supernatural is about good and evil. The working of spiritual things beyond our understanding.” She gestured I should sit with her. As I settled, she handed me a porcelain cup and saucer. “My gift merely gives me an insight into the eternal realm.”
Her transparency encouraged me to show her the same measure of honesty. As I helped myself to a strawberry and chocolate puff, I admitted, “I’m not sure I buy all that.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled and took a dainty sip from her cup before asking, “Do you mind if I give ye something to ponder?”
“Not at all.” No one had ever asked me before if I minded them sharing their beliefs. I found myself surprisingly interested in what she would say.
“Would ye admit that the Protector o’ Doon has dominion over our kingdom?” I nodded, which prompted her to continue while I nibbled on my treat. “So our enchantment comes from the eternal realm. And yet it seems the Rings of Aontacht brought ye across the Brig o’ Doon by magic.”
She paused to look at me sagely, before asking, “So which do you think it was—the Protector’s will or magic which brought ye here?”
This felt like one of those baffling logic questions my dad was so fond of … If a plane traveling from Spain to South America crashes in the Alaskan tundra, how many licks does it take the survivors to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? I always hated those things; I mean, why worry about random events that could never happen? With no good answer to her question, I shrugged and waited for her to continue.