I threw Kenna a death stare and then turned toward the throne. “Ja—ah … Laird, please excuse my friend’s behavior. She’s tired and hungry and greatly distressed from being taken at knifepoint to a dungeon and—”
“Be silent.” Jamie’s disdain blazed at me across the room, causing heat to rush up my neck and into my cheeks. If I needed further confirmation that he didn’t know me, this was it.
“What say you to the charge of conspiring with the witch to breech the boundaries of Doon?” he asked evenly, his words hacking into my heart.
Too humiliated to speak, I stood trembling before him. Was this how I wanted to go down? Accused and convicted without a word in my own defense? The answer was a resounding NO.
Clenching my hands into fists, I took a step forward. But an iron grip on my arm halted my progress. I stopped, never taking my eyes off Jamie’s face. “Since you’re obviously the only one whose opinion matters”—I made a sweeping gesture with my free hand—“why do you believe we’re here, Your Highness?”
His ebony gaze narrowed and his hands gripped the armrests of his throne as if he struggled to hold himself in his seat. “Are you challenging my authority?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The barb flew out of my mouth before I could think better of it.
Jamie blinked, and for a moment the mask of authority fell from his face. His white-knuckled grip loosened, his eyes softened, and his jaw unclenched. My heart stuttered as my Jamie appeared before me. Did he remember after all? Or was it on the edge of his consciousness like a dream—the harder you tried to recall the details the faster they slipped away?
With a deep, shuddering breath, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he focused on some point behind my head. The monarch was back, his perfect face void of expression. Straightening his spine, he addressed Gideon decisively. “Take ’em back to the dungeon.”
“What?” Kenna exclaimed from behind me. “That’s the extent of our hearing?”
“Please …” I almost added “Jamie,” but stopped myself just in time. “Kenna’s aunt—”
“Silence, witch!” Gideon hissed, grabbing my other arm with a painful twist.
“Let go! You’re hurting me.” Trying to pull out of Gideon’s rough grasp, I looked to Jamie for help, but he showed all the emotion of a statue.
“Take them now, Gideon,” the boy on the throne ordered impassively.
“A word, brother.” A voice called from the back of the room. I turned to see Jamie’s tall, dark-haired brother, moving toward us.
“Not now, Duncan.” Jamie’s regard shifted to his brother, but his expression didn’t change.
Undeterred, Duncan barreled forward, “These wee lasses are—”
The crown prince’s face turned as dark as a thundercloud. He shot to his feet, grabbed Duncan by the arm, and led him out the side door.
From my limited vantage point, I watched the princes whispering in heated conversation. After a moment, Jamie returned and stood before the throne, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a granite mask. Duncan stood beside him, a triumphant grin lifting one side of his mouth.
When Jamie spoke, there was no inflection in his voice. “I’m releasing you both into the custody of Fergus and my brother, Prince Duncan, until such time that yer trial can be conducted.”
Gideon’s hold tightened painfully on my arms and he sputtered, “But laird!”
Jamie’s cutting gaze shifted to my jailor. “Gideon, I require your assistance with the king.”
“Yes, sire.”
Gideon released me, and as I rubbed the feeling back into my aching arms Jamie stalked from the room without so much as a glance in my direction. Gideon followed close on his heels. Great. Just what we didn’t need—our fanatical accuser having the opportunity to fill Jamie’s head with more lies.
Duncan approached with a smug twinkle in his eye. He extended one arm to me and then turned to Kenna. “Fear not, m’ ladies. You are under the protection of Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae, Prince o’ Doon, and no harm will come to you. I swear it on m’ life.”
CHAPTER 10
Mackenna