She shrugged and then wiped her cheeks. “I can’t find a single box of Puffs in this joint.”
I bit my lip against a chuckle, popped up, and jogged into the bathroom. Thankfully, Doon was progressive enough to have toilet paper. As I wrapped a few pieces around my hand, I stopped and stared up at the toilet tank above me. Maybe the tiny book hidden there contained some clue that I’d missed. What I’d said to Kenna was true; the deaths weren’t her fault. But I couldn’t absolve myself so easily. I’d been the one obsessed—the one Kenna followed to the bridge.
Jamie’d said there was a price for everything. It seemed as if the price I’d paid to enter this paradise was costing my best friend as well as innocent Doonians. After delivering the tissue to Kenna, I sank down at the table. I cradled the journal in my hands, knowing it was too late to turn back the clock, but praying there was a way to stop what I’d inadvertently set into motion.
Hours later, I closed the journal with a sigh and picked up the page of notes I’d taken. The pieces were here; I could feel it. But for some reason I couldn’t fit them together. I ran my finger across the last paragraph of my notes.
The Rings of Aontacht are purported to do different things depending on the Protector’s will. Page 47 says that their purpose is to enable individuals to cross the Brig o’ Doon at times other than the Centennial. This seems consistent with pages 73 and 109. But on page 148 Gracie says the symbols on the rings indicate they can be used for the purposes of protection and substitution. The prominent symbol indicates that someone can take the place of another at a spiritual level. Sacrificial substitution.
Opening Doon: An Esteemed Legacy, I flipped to the chapter on ancient symbols.
Kenna, fresh from a nap, flitted around the room, singing snippets of show tunes and lighting lamps to push back the growing darkness of the stormy afternoon. When she stopped to light the lantern on the table in front of me, I lightly touched her hand. She paused mid-song, her brows pinched together.
I pointed to the open page at a three-looped knot labeled Unity. “Does this look like the first symbol on your aunt’s rings?”
“I think so.” She sat across from me. “Why?”
I ran my finger down the drawings, to another one that looked familiar. “And this one?”
She leaned over and studied the triple spiral. “I do remember that one. What does it mean?”
I read the tiny script beside the picture aloud. “The Triskele is the symbol of substitution or rebirth.” I moved to the next symbol I recognized. “And this one represents sacrifice or an exchange offering.”
“It’s pretty, but I wouldn’t get it tattooed on my lower back or anything.” I glanced up to find Kenna’s scrutiny on me rather than the symbol. “What’re you doing, anyway? As soon as the bridge opens, we’re gone. We’ll probably never see those rings again.”
“Has it occurred to you that all the horrible stuff going on in Doon started after we got here?”
“I guess, but I figured that was just a coincidence. I mean, Glinda and Elphaba we’re not.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “But I could totally get my Glinda on if you think it’ll get us out of here faster.”
Not in the mood for one of her Wicked sing-alongs, I shot my best friend a dirty look as a succession of knocks sounded. Our eyes darted toward the door and then back toward one another for reassurance. After so much time in isolation, the implications of that knock felt ominous.
At the guard’s signal, Kenna and I moved to the bedroom and waited for him to answer the door and then sound the all clear.
When we returned to the living quarters, Fiona stood beside a flushed Fergus, whose bright red nose and eyes told me he’d been crying. The giant guard turned to me, lifting his chin in an attempt to hide his anguish. “Our good king seeks an audience with Miss Veronica.”