The witch emitted a humorless chuckle. “Now that the colorful sidekick is out o’ the way, it’s time to address the wee girl who would play the hero. For you, o’ queen of Doon.” She raised her hand, made a circular motion, and then a quick downward slash.
Reflexively, my arm jerked up, and I saw the ring on my finger was glowing again. But before the magic could form, a weight like a concrete wall crushed me to the floor. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Panic ripped through me as I felt my body being crushed to nothing. As if from a great distance, I recognized my own hysterical voice screaming for help.
Wave after wave of crippling pain slammed down on me. Through it, I could just make out Jamie’s voice. “Vee.” His words were punctuated by blows of his sword. “I shoulda—told you. The monarch o’ Doon’s—meant to be the—counter balance to the witch. When the ruler’s weak—the witch’s evil grows—more—powerful. Ye must—be—strong—love.”
His words bolstered me, giving me the strength to focus and mentally push against the crippling, invisible weight. I had an instant of relief before it slammed back doubly strong, the attack no longer just an external pressure but also a mental assault. The spell moved through me like jagged bits of glass, gouging my soul and draining my will.
A thousand insecurities bombarded my mind, urging me to give up. Telling me I couldn’t win. That I was nothing but a powerless fraud. A pathetic loser. Unwanted. Stupid and weak. Never good enough …
Tossed in a raging river, I was drowning in self-condemnation. Memories of my many failures flashed through my mind—Eric in Stephanie’s arms, Mom’s resentful gaze, Dad waving as he backed out of the driveway for the last time—draining my will with each recollection. Who was I to think I could make a difference? I was just a worthless girl from Podunk, Indiana who’d never done a noble thing in her life. I wasn’t a warrior like Jamie. Tears leaked from my eyes and my lungs burned, ready to explode.
Darkness closed in on my vision, and I realized it was over. The substitution had been a mistake. Doon’s new queen had failed.
CHAPTER 38
Mackenna
I would never look at a game of Scene Freeze the same way. In fact, if I ever got out of this I would never play it again. Being frozen was painful and humiliating, not to mention terrifying.
All I could do was watch my best friend being crushed to death. Gawk as the boy I cared for fought off a half-dozen hell worms alongside his brother and his friend. And stare at the Big Bad Witch strolling from one end of the room to the other inspecting her handiwork.
The only arsenal I had left was my words. I hurled them at her like a virtuoso, calling her every name I could think of and then making some up when Vee howled again in pain. If this was the end, I would not die quietly.
“What’s the matter?” I goaded. “Did some prince ditch your skanky butt for a nice girl? Or were you just born a pathetic, monarchy-hating slag?”
Bull’s-eye.
Addie’s smile faltered as I earned her full attention. A vein under her eye twitched. As she sauntered in my direction, I worried that slag would be the last word I ever spoke.
Nah—I could do better. But just as I opened my mouth, Addie’s hand made a grasping motion. Suddenly, I had no air. My chest seized, paralyzing my lungs as my eyes began to bulge.
“Slag,” she mused. “Such an interesting colloquialism.”
Although her attention was riveted on me, her fist opened to hurl a gust of air at Duncan. The blast knocked the sword from his hand. Helplessly, I watched as he ducked into a roll and dove after the weapon, narrowly avoiding a snapping serpent in the process.
Addie clapped her hands and my air returned. I wheezed like an asthmatic bullfrog while she studied me as if I were some kind of lower life-form. From the opposite end of the room, Fergus yelped in pain, causing the witch to chuckle. “Careful,” she called in mock warning. “They bite.”