Page 4 of The Darkest Knight

He wouldn’t cede. The demon lied. Nail knew down to his bones that if he gave himself to her, the tie would become stronger.

Thump, thump, thump … the constant sound vibrated through the keep. He was back in his bedchamber. Back in the keep he’d shared with the other four knights for centuries. Niall rolled over his breaths like pants as relief washed over him.

The thumping continued as he slid out of the bed and pulled his breeches on. He stormed out of the room and down the stairs. “Padriag!”

Thump, thump, thump, the sounds continued.

He went down the stairs stopping on the landing just as the basketball flew past his shoulder. It bounced off the wall back toward the red-face young knight who grabbed it and eyed him with distaste.

“You could have caught that.” Padriag said, beginning to bounce it again, turning away from him.

Niall rushed to him and grabbed him by the scruff, picking the sweaty man off the ground. “I was trying to sleep.” He shoved the younger man away watching him stumble, barely able to keep from falling.

Padriag whirled around rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why you’re such an ass. You went to your room early last night. How many damn hours of sleep do you need?”

Without responding, Niall went to the large dining table and sat. Noticing a pot of tea, he poured himself a cup. “Where is Liam?”

If everyone was to be rescued one by one from this realm, Niall was perturbed at the idea of being left to live alone with Padriag. The young knight who’d been only two and twenty when enchanted remained a reckless youth.

With his joy in life barely dimming over the years and his ability to find humor in almost every situation, Padriag was his complete opposite. Niall didn’t begrudge the young man’s refusal to see the worst, for Padriag had suffered alongside him at Meliot’s hands, just as much as the others.

But most times, Padriag’s constant cheery disposition grated at him, reminding him of his constant torment even more.

“Liam went to the other realm to see your enchantress. She’s been summoning you,” Padraig told him. “If I were you I would go. She’s threatened on more than one occasion to come here.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Niall replied, “I do not believe Tristan or Gavin will allow her to come here.”

Tamara, the woman who was to supposedly free him from his enchantment, was wasting her time. He would never leave. There would never be freedom for him, whether there in the alter-world or in the other realm.

Padriag went to a narrow window and peered out. “The watchdogs looked bored. Some of them are asleep. No orders to storm the keep today, I suppose. Either that or they can’t get past my mighty wards.” He held up his arms flexing his biceps, and then began a warding spell, dashing about the room, using his magical powers to fortify the wards of protection he’d installed and maintained since they arrived in the alter-world.

Niall watched him for a moment. Soon Meliot’s minions would storm the keep. Meliot was a powerful wizard and could probably dispose of Padriag’s wards easily. Once the keep was overtaken, they’d be forced to leave. To move to Atlandia where the royal overseers would grant them asylum in exchange for joining their forces of shifters and sentries against Meliot’s dark forces.