A wise man once said love is a temporary madness. It was the temporary part I clung to like a life raft as I watched Jamie, strong and confident, go through the rituals that would make him a king.
He looked magnificent. His dress kilt, complete with formal jacket, was ornamented by his jeweled sword and the rich blue and green tartan of Clan MacCrae draped over his left shoulder—closest to his heart. I sat among the adoring masses, a silent participant while the emotions boiling through me threatened to erupt and rip the world in half. Was this the madness part?
The mirror told me I looked like a princess, with a burgundy fairy-tale gown and fantastical silver and garnet circlet woven into my hair as proof, but inside I was a quivering mess. I’d never felt more like a fraud. Everything inside me wanted to storm the stage and beg Jamie to ignore his destiny with Sofia. Beseech him to abandon his duty and run away with me, the king’s vision be damned! But in the end, I would remain seated with a smile pasted on my face, pretending to be in control—just as I’d done most of my life.
Placing his hand on the Bible, Jamie took the oaths that bound him to his kingdom. With every word he spoke, the chasm between us grew more insurmountable. His fate more tightly linked to the girl he would claim as his queen.
Unable to watch another moment, I glanced up at the stone columns and vaults arching over my head. Fiona had explained that the first king of Doon commissioned this chapel as a spiritual retreat for the royal family. Now it was only used for the most significant ceremonial occasions.
Next to me, Kenna’s soft sigh drew my attention away from the flawless architecture. I followed her stare toward the altar. Duncan mounted the steps two at a time and joined his brother with a squeeze on the shoulder and a heartening smile. As the clergyman announced the Oath of Fealty, Duncan solemnly lowered to one knee before Jamie and raised his right hand.
“I, Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae, promise on my faith that I will, now and always, remain loyal to my laird and king, my brother. Will never cause him harm and will, in all things, observe my homage to the kingdom o’ Doon. I pledge my devoted counsel in all situations and vow to protect the laird with my life, against all persons and in all circumstances in loyalty and without deceit.”
Every word of his commitment rang strong and true throughout the cathedral, his love for his kingdom and his brother clear to all. But it occurred to me that Duncan seemed to weigh his vow of protection above his declaration of honesty. Was withholding Gideon’s true whereabouts and the mysterious deaths of his soldiers a violation of loyalty? I couldn’t judge Duncan, because like me he must know the terrible secret he held would hurt more than it helped. We both had our reasons for keeping information from the new ruler of Doon.
Finished with his pledge, Duncan tipped his head and kissed his sovereign’s ring. In a touching display of humility, Jamie clasped his brother’s hand and helped him to his feet, pulling him into a brief hug, their locked fists between them.
The haunting music of unseen bagpipes wove through the room as every citizen filed into the aisle, patiently waiting their turn to step in front of their new laird and repeat an abbreviated version of the oath Duncan had just confessed.