Vee’s elbow dug between my ribs to pummel my kidney. When we got home, I was going to duct tape a pair of elbow pads to her arms. With a toss of her shiny chestnut hair, she curtsied to the prince. “Thank you, Prince—eh—your highness, sir.”
He reached for Vee’s hand. When she gave it to him, he bent to brush a chaste kiss across her knuckles. He straightened with a grin, his bewitching eyes darting from Vee to me. “You needn’t stand on formalities with me. Please, call me Duncan.”
Faced with his smug, lopsided grin, I couldn’t help but be contrary. “That’s very kind, your highness, but I couldn’t.”
“I must insist.” He offered me his hand, palm up. Then for good measure, he added, “If ye refuse me, I’ll have ye thrown back into the dungeon.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Is that a challenge?” The right corner of his top lip twitched in a way that made me almost completely certain he was bluffing.
The echoes of a long-forgotten incident floated up from my subconscious. Some kind of face off with a smug little boy—on the playground, maybe—but before I could capture it, Vee’s elbow struck again and the thought vanished.
“Duncan,” Vee interjected, all the while reprimanding me with her eyes. “You can call me Veronica. And she’s Mackenna—Kenna for short. Isn’t that right?”
And she accused me of being the bossy one.
“Fine. Call me whatever you want.” Feigning indifference, I placed my hand in the prince’s. His lips puckered as his head bent. Suddenly, I felt as breathless as when I’d stumbled into his room. I sensed the curse of the ginger—the blush of prickling heat—as it began to redden my neck and face. My only hope of controlling the affliction was cold water, and lots of it.
Giving his hand a firm single shake, I wrenched mine away before his mouth could make contact. In an overly loud voice, I heard myself babble, “Excuse me, but could you please direct me to the bath … ah … privy, the loo, whatever the heck you call it?”
He indicated a door along the back wall, next to his books. “Aye, it’s through there and to the left.”
“Come on, Veronica.” I tugged her away from the rare editions. “I’m not facing this alone.”
Duncan’s bedroom was equally as dazzling as the sitting room. To the right, another roaring fireplace crackled like a mythical beast, and I had to admit the cozy window seat at the far end would make an excellent perch to contemplate the view of the mountains. I skimmed over an enormous four-poster bed that dominated the center of the room—refusing to consider what went on there—while in search of the bathroom. Just as our host promised, the door stood off to one side.
As I veered left, Vee broke from my grasp. She paused at the foot of the bed fit for a royal oaf and ogled the thick plaid-flannel comforter. Exhaustion accentuated the angles of her face, giving her purplish crescents under the hollows of her eyes. She teetered on her feet as she stifled a huge yawn. “I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”
I agreed. Since coming to this crazy place, time had gotten skewed. I couldn’t tell how long it’d been since we slept last, or how long until it was time to sleep again. But, unfortunately, some things were more important.
“No napping, Sleeping Beauty.” When her gaze turned somber, I quietly asked, “Are you okay? Really?”
Her eyes closed on a deep sigh and then snapped open. “I’m going to be fine. We both are.”
With images of the dungeon buckets still haunting me, I towed Vee toward the bathroom. How bad could it really be? I pushed through the doorway and froze in shock. “Whoa. Are you seeing this?”
“I would.” Vee gave me a light shove, sounding more like her usual self. “If you’d get out of the way!”
As I regained my wits, I walked forward to the item that had astounded me, and pulled lightly on an overhead chain. Ta-da! Water whooshed from a high tank into the open toilet bowl below and swirled down the drain.