Page 27 of The Darkest Knight

He finally met her gaze, his grey eyes dark and turbulent, and for a moment she thought he might answer. Instead, he turned away. “I must take my leave.”

An idea struck. Before he could disappear, she grabbed his shirt, forcing him to stop.

“Were there three moons when you first fell under the enchantment?”

His brows lifted in surprise at her sudden shift. “Aye, there were.”

“Then maybe the approaching three moons are tied to the attack on that village.”

He stilled, considering her words. “You may be right.”

Emboldened, she pressed on. “Could Meliot be after the women from that village?”

“Aye.” His tone grew more serious. “That could be his goal.”

Their eyes locked, tension thick between them. She wanted to shout, to beg him to open up, to tell her what she needed to know before it was too late.

“Please, Niall,” she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. “Tell me what it takes to break your curse. Tell me how to save you. Do you know more than the words you spoke when we were last together?”

His gaze darkened, but no answer came. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that stole her breath. The tenderness caught her off guard, yet she leaned into it, surrendering to the soft, insistent pressure of his mouth. His arms encircled her, pulling her close, and she let herself fall into him, hoping to convey what her words could not.

Choose life, Niall. Don’t give up.

Her hands slid over the hard planes of his arms, fingers threading through his thick hair as he deepened the kiss. When he drew her against him, the warmth of his body sent shivers racing through her. His lips moved to her throat, and she arched into him, her knees weakening under the sweet torment of his touch.

“Niall…” she whispered, urging him on.

He silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, more desperate. Just as she thought she might break from wanting him, he released her abruptly, stepping back. His storm-dark eyes met hers, both of them gasping for breath.

Tammie reached for him, unwilling to let him go. “Stay, Niall. Don’t leave.”

But before she could say more, he vanished.

“Damn it,” she hissed, her hands clenching in the empty air where he’d stood.

Three lives rescued

Three moons high

Two hearts restored

One must die

Padriag’s spell was ominous. He’d repeated several times, then Tammie and her sisters had dissected every word for hours.

Too tired to remain seated, Tammie stalked from one side of the library to the other. Gwen and Tristan sat on a couch and watched her. She’d repeated the verses so many times; she could say them in her sleep.

“Niall said the three moons would rise in a few days.” She stopped pacing and looked to her sister’s husband. “What is the significance of it?”

Tristan shrugged a broad shoulder. “It’s a rare occurrence in the alter-world, happens every hundred years or so. I don’t recall there being anything different during the last time it happened.” He gave her a worry-filled look. “We think that perhaps it means that the last knights will be able to break free of the enchantment, but someone will die.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Gwen cried. “That would be horrible. After all that time in captivity, only to die upon being rescued.”

Liam materialized. The knight was so bundled in furs, only his blue eyes were visible. He began to immediately remove the layers, dropping them on the floor.

When only a tunic and breeches remained he finally addressed them. “The icing began when I left. I didn’t want to chance returning in the midst of it without being properly dressed.” He explained.

Tristan stood and went to him, placing his hand on the Brit’s shoulder. “Liam, how are you?”