Page 9 of The Darkest Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #3)

Chapter Nine

T ammie paced along the edge of the castle gardens, her long skirts swirling around her legs with each hurried step, the hem of fabric brushing her ankles. The crisp morning air nipped at her cheeks despite the bright sunshine filtering through the shedding branches overhead. She clutched her cardigan tighter, her arms crossed against the chill.

“You look pensive,” Sabrina’s voice broke through the silence as walked toward Tammie, a cup of coffee in each hand. Offering one to Tammie, she said. “What’s going on little Tammie?”

“I had ... a dream last night,” Tammie said, her voice low and uncertain. She turned her gaze upward, scanning the pale sky as if searching for answers. “Except, it didn’t feel like a dream. It was too vivid. Too real.”

Sabrina’s brows furrowed with interest as she sank onto a nearby bench, the wood creaking beneath her. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

Tammie took a sip of her coffee, the creamy richness grounding her momentarily. “I was somewhere else,” she began, her voice unsteady. “With Niall. I could see him, but I wasn’t really there . I couldn’t touch anything or make myself seen.” Her voice cracked as her hands tightened around the cup. “Sabrina, he was being tortured. These ... creatures, horrible and inhuman, were whipping him. He was in so much pain.”

Sabrina’s expression turned grave. “Niall? Tortured? What kind of creatures?”

“I don’t know what they were,” Tammie said, her words trembling. “But it doesn’t stop there. One moment he was being flogged, and then ... the next, he was in a bed with a woman.”

Sabrina froze, her cup halfway to her lips. “A woman?”

“She looked like one,” Tammie clarified, her tone darkening. “But there was something wrong about her. An aura—black, heavy. She felt ... demonic, evil.”

The memory clawed at Tammie’s mind as she sat on a wooden bench beside Sabrina, her cup clutched with both hands. “She was demanding that he give himself to her. When he refused. She tied him to the bed, and I think—” Her voice faltered, but the implication hung heavy between them.

Sabrina’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, Tammie. Are you sure it wasn’t just a nightmare?”

“I don’t know.” Tammie shook her head, her dark eyes clouded with doubt. “But it felt so real. I could feel her wickedness, her intent. And then, somehow, I pushed her away—not with my hands, but with my mind. I just willed her to leave him alone.”

Sabrina’s eyes widened. “You fought her?”

“Yes.” Tammie exhaled shakily. “Then somehow I realized she had control over him because he was sleeping. I screamed at him to wake up. The moment I did, he vanished.”

Sabrina set her cup down, her fingers knitting together as she searched Tammie’s face. “Do you think this has something to do with the other vision you had? The one about the claws clutching Niall?”

Tammie nodded slowly, her thoughts tumbling over one another. “It has to. This isn’t just my imagination. Something is after him, Sabrina. And it felt as if it’s been going on for a long time.”

The two women sat in silence, the weight of Tammie’s revelation settling like a shadow over the garden, the cool air suddenly feeling much colder.

“Come inside. We need to discuss this with Gwen,” Sabrina urged, her voice firm but not overbearing.

“Give me a few minutes. I need to clear my head,” Tammie replied, relieved when her sister didn’t press further.

As Sabrina stood and walked away, Tammie inhaled and exhaled slowly. The crisp air felt great in her lungs. The quiet surrounding her felt as if the world were holding its breath. What troubled her most wasn’t the lingering fear she’d felt after attacking a demon, but the startling surge of power she’d unleashed. She hadn’t known she was capable of anything like that. It had taken immense strength—strength she’d never even attempted or knew she had. All her life, she’d accepted that Sabrina and Gwen were the gifted ones, their abilities far stronger than hers. That truth had never bothered Tammie. She actually preferred to stand at the edges of their metaphysical world.

But the night before had shifted something within her. Funny how a single night could topple everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Her phone buzzed, breaking through the tangle of thoughts. Glancing down, she saw Gerard’s name on the screen, and guilt knotted her stomach. The message was curt, short.

“Dropped off your stuff at your apartment. Left the key on the kitchen table.”

A fresh wave of regret washed over her. She’d already apologized—profusely, tearfully—when she confessed her betrayal, but Gerard hadn’t lashed out. He hadn’t even raised his voice. Instead, there had been a chilling calm in his response, as though he’d been waiting for her to end things. His quiet acceptance hurt more than any angry words could have. She remembered the long silence after her confession, the way her heart pounded until she finally asked, “Are you still there?”

He’d answered simply, without emotion. “I figured this would happen sooner or later.”

After hanging up, she’d immediately reached out to a mutual friend, desperate for reassurance that Gerard was all right. The next day, she’d received a brief text stating he was bummed but moving on. Somehow, it made her feel only marginally less terrible.

Tammie slipped her phone back into the deep pocket of her sweater making it hang lower on one side. She tracked Sabrina’s slow, deliberate steps as her sister meandered back toward the front of the castle.

How had her life become so complicated, so quickly? And what was she supposed to do with this new, unsettling power that now seemed to pulse just beneath her skin?

One thing was certain—nothing would ever be the same again.

When Niall appeared in modern-day Scotland, the chill in the air struck him first, sharp and bracing. He found himself outdoors, standing amidst a garden bursting with late blooms and thick greenery. The scent of damp earth and pine filled his nostrils, grounding him in a place that was both familiar and foreign. As he turned toward the imposing stone structure before him, recognition clicked into place—it was the McRainey castle. Tristan’s home.

Clouds churned overhead, casting a silvery-gray hue over the landscape, while a brisk wind tugged at his clothes and ruffled his hair. The weight of being back on the land where he had been born pressed down on him, stirring emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He steeled himself against the rush of sentiment, forcing his thoughts to remain neutral as he surveyed the grounds.

The land was lush, vibrant green stretching in every direction. Stables stood proudly to the east, their timber frames sturdy against the elements, while meandering paths cut through the grounds, leading toward the castle or to a handful of nearby cottages. The scene was picturesque, yet it carried an air of unease—as if the land itself sensed his inner turmoil.

A sudden tingle traveled up his legs and arms, a strange, almost charged sensation that made him tense. He turned just as Tamara appeared from the side of the castle. Her skirts swirled around her ankles as she moved, the bright colors of her flowing garments melding into the lush landscape. Her eyes locked onto him, sharp and assessing, and the corners of her lips twitched when she took in his modern attire. Jeans and a gray pullover—terms Padriag had insisted he learn, though they still felt foreign on his tongue.

Tamara hurried toward him, concern etched in her expression. “How are you?” she asked, her voice low but urgent. Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

Niall shook his head, his tone calm, though pride edged his words. “I am unharmed. The battle was not long.”

Her brows shot up, and her mouth fell open in shock. “Battle? What battle?”

“We fought against Meliot’s army. Our side won.” His lips curved in a faint, satisfied smile. “They were barely a threat. Is Padriag here?”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze narrowing as though trying to decipher his mood. “He’s inside. Told me you were to come as well. When you didn’t appear in the library or in my room, I was going to check the cottage.” A faint pink crept across her cheeks,

Her blush deepened, and Niall suspected her thoughts mirrored his own, replaying the last time they’d been together in this realm. An awkward silence settled between them, though it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Finally breaking the quiet, Niall glanced at her sideways. “I expected you would have returned home.”

Tamara’s chin lifted, her eyes steady and resolute. “There’s no reason for me to return. I’m staying as long as I have to, to ensure you and Padriag are freed.” Her voice carried a steely determination, cutting through any argument he might have made. “What have you decided, Niall? Will you help us, or will you keep silent and leave yourself—and Padriag—trapped?”

Did it mean she was no longer in a relationship? Niall remained stubbornly silent. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tilt her head slightly, studying him as though he were an intricate puzzle she was trying to solve.

Tamara sighed, and her shoulders sagged as she turned her gaze upward. For a few moments, she stared at the swirling clouds, lost in thought. He followed her line of sight, letting the cool breeze wash over his face. It carried with it a familiar scent he had missed—the fresh, clean air of Scotland, unlike anything in the otherworld.

“Niall,” she said softly, her voice almost carried away by the wind. “Your decision to stay in the alter-world affects everyone in this house. None of the men can truly live their lives while you and Padriag remain trapped under Meliot’s enchantment. Do you understand how gutted they are? Imagine how you would feel if they were trapped, and you were free.”

He clenched his jaw, refusing to respond. Her words hit too close to the mark, and he wasn’t ready to admit how much his choice had cost not just himself but everyone around him.

When he didn’t reply, she took a step closer, frustration flashing in her eyes. Without warning, she leaned in and jabbed a finger into his chest. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through him, and he stiffened under her touch.

“My sisters say neither Tristan nor Gavin are at ease. They constantly worry, knowing it’s just you and Padriag trapped and having to be pulled into Meliot’s dangerous games.”

“It’s their choice to be affected by my decision,” he said tersely, though his voice lacked conviction.

At her sharp intake of breath, he braced himself for the next onslaught. She wasn’t going to let this go—and for some reason, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to.

Tammie blew air up at her hair and it flopped back across her brow. Her clear blue eyes flickered over him. She took her time studying him and he shifted, unsure what she looked for.

Her upper teeth pressed into her bottom lip as she met his gaze. “You know, if you decided to come back to this realm, you could make your living as a physical trainer. ”

“Trainer?” Niall frowned, not sure about her sudden change of subject.

“You are muscular and well defined. Men would kill to have your physique ... er body type. Women definitely desire for men to look like you.”

He scowled at her sudden change of subject and looked down to study his body, then he shrugged. “People in this time are not content with what they look like?”

This time, her rich laughter rang out loudly and his lips ached to curve into a smile. Watching her cover her mouth in mirth, he wondered what he’d said that was so funny. “Oh if you only knew. You will find out soon enough.”

He followed her into a garden or perhaps a small courtyard, surrounded on three sides by a waist-high stone crafted wall.

Gavin strode out into the courtyard, sunlight glinting off his golden skin, each muscle taut beneath the fabric of his thick shirt. His gaze met Niall’s for the briefest of moments—sharp, guarded—before he passed by without a word. He leaned against the stone wall, folding his arms across his broad chest, his stance radiating tension.

“Are you going to tell her the terms of breaking your enchantment or not?” Gavin’s voice was low but edged with frustration. A sudden, unexpected and unwelcome pang of guilt twisted in Niall’s chest.

“It matters not,” Niall replied, his tone as hard. “It is impossible to break. No one—unless mad—would ever agree to try.”

“There are ways around Meliot’s enchantments.” Gavin’s slight smile was the kind that never quite reached his eyes. “Take mine, for instance. I couldn’t bear a woman’s touch, which made my terms seem impossible—my Sabrina had to make love to me to break it. Seemed insurmountable, didn’t it? And yet …” He trailed off, the silence serving as its own explanation.

Niall stiffened, standing straighter. The conversation stirred something he didn’t want to confront. “I have to go. Can you help Tamara understand that all of you need to concentrate on finding a way to help Padriag?”

“No, he can’t,” Tamara interrupted, her voice cutting through the air, tight with irritation. “I need to ask you a couple more questions before you poof out of here.”

Niall turned to Gavin, who merely shrugged, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips before he pushed off the wall and walked away, leaving Niall alone with her. He sighed inwardly, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

Painfully transparent doubt clouded Tamara’s gaze, frustration knit her brow, and uncertainty flickered in the way she shuffled her feet. She bit her bottom lip in thought, her eyes locked on his as though willing him to answer the question she hadn’t yet voiced. The intensity of her emotions hit him like a wave, raw and unfiltered.

“Before you go, I want to ask you a favor,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. She took a tentative step closer. “Can you … give me a hug?”

The request jolted him, knocking the breath from his lungs. A hug? Of all things? He hadn’t hugged anyone since his wife. The memory was a ghostly ache he kept buried deep, and now it threatened to resurface.

Before he could respond, she closed the distance between them, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. Her warmth seeped into him, soft and unexpected, cutting through the cold armor he’d worn for so long.

His body froze, unyielding at first. He told himself not to move, but something within him betrayed that command. Slowly, almost unwillingly, his arms lifted and wrapped around her. His chin rested atop her head, her hair brushing against his jaw. He closed his eyes, the scent of her—wildflowers and something sweet—filling his senses, anchoring him to the moment.

“I want to help you, Niall,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “But at the same time, I want what’s best for you. It’s not fair for us to place this burden on you. I’m so sorry.” Her words ended with a soft sniff, the sound fragile, breaking through his defenses. Something inside him cracked. He found himself wanting to promise her anything, anything at all, just to keep her from crying again.

Abruptly, he pulled back, breaking the contact before he could lose himself in it completely. As he stepped away, a strange, almost dizzying sensation swept over him, as if life had been breathed back into him after years of numbness. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear or battle, but from something far more overwhelming. Hope. It filled him, light and heady, threatening to spill over.

“I will disclose the terms of breaking my enchantment,” he said suddenly, his voice steadier than he felt. “Only so that you understand the impossibility of it—and so you’ll stop asking.”

Tamara’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and curiosity flashing across her face. “I’m listening.”

“Do not worry, Tamara,” Niall added, his gaze softening despite the weight of his words. “I am sure you and the others will find a way to free Padriag … and leave me behind.”

His thoughts tumbled one over the other. He was not ready for this.Not in the slightest.

Tammie held her breath, anxiety crackling through her like static as a dozen grim scenarios flickered in her mind. She clutched her hands tightly, waiting for Niall to explain the terms of breaking the enchantment that had held him prisoner in an alternate world for three centuries.

Her gaze flicked to him, searching for some sign of reassurance. Instead, she found his stormy grey eyes watching her with the same trepidation she felt. He looked every bit a man bearing the weight of a lifetime’s worth of sorrow. After all, he’d lost his family, his life, his world. And here she was—worrying about how this would affect her.

“Okay,” she said, forcing her voice to steady. “I’m ready. Just tell me what ridiculous thing that stupid wizard put in your enchantment to make it so hard to break.”

Niall swallowed hard. The silence stretched between them, heavy and fraught. His hesitation made her pulse race. Whatever he was about to reveal clearly cost him to even put into words.

Finally, he dragged a hand over his face and shifted his gaze to the distant horizon, as if searching for strength out there in the fading light. “When I left, my wife, Caitlin, was about six months along in her pregnancy.” His voice grew quieter, tinged with sadness. “He would have been our first son. We already had two little girls.”

He paused, the tension radiating from him palpable. “My family was my whole world. For the first years of the enchantment, nothing mattered to me, except getting back to them. When I lost them, I lost everything.”

Tammie blinked rapidly, willing back the sting of tears. “I’m so sorry, Niall. Were you … were you ever able to go back? To visit them?”

His throat worked, the struggle evident in the way he spoke. “Twice,” he said, voice rough with memory. “The first time, I learned Caitlin had given birth to a healthy boy. She named him after me.” His lips twitched, a flicker of a smile cutting through the grief. “Loud, strong cry, he had.” He shook his head as though dismissing the thought.

“The second time I was able to return, it was different. Caitlin had remarried. My children—” His voice cracked, his gaze darkening to cold steel. “My children called him Da.”

Tammie couldn’t breathe. The agony in his voice twisted her insides, but nothing could have prepared her for what he said next.

“In order to break my enchantment … as my savior …” His eyes locked on hers, flat, emotionless. In a flat tone, he recited the words that he’d obviously repeated many times in his mind.

By blood, by heart, by love unspoken,

The power of family now be woven.

From lone knight’s path, let bonds be found,

With roots to grow in sacred ground.

Spell of ages from Master of pages.

Sacrifice fate for the knight in two cages.

“Oh my god,” Tammie whispered, the ground seeming to sway beneath her. She clutched at the rough bark of the tree behind her, trying to steady herself as dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Niall let out a long breath. “On the cursed day that the others and I went to meet with the Knights’ Council, little did we know defending a village under attack, and crossing Meliot, sealed our fates. He punished us using his powerful magic to throw us to the other realm, where he’s tortures us, sends us on useless quests and made it almost impossible to be freed. It wasn’t until Tristan and Gavin were freed by your sisters that I felt a flicker of hope. Not for myself, but for the others.”

Niall’s voice was calm, far too calm, as though he had long since resigned himself to the cruelty of his fate. “I do not wish to father children again. Not after failing the ones I had. And even if I did …”

“A demon holds you captive,” Tammie said, watching his eyes widen. “She’s real isn’t she?”

“Devina. She will never release her grip on me, no matter which realm I inhabit.”

His calmness cut deeper than any shouted anguish could have. He wasn’t just resigned—he was utterly defeated. He’d carried this burden for centuries, and now she understood why he had never truly believed freedom was possible.

“There has to be a way,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“There is not,” Niall said firmly, his tone final. “I have had a long time to consider ways I can be free. I found none. I have accepted my fate.”

Niall scanned the landscape, his eyes lingering on every detail, as if committing this place to memory. She could see it now—the quiet acceptance of a man who had already decided to let go of life.

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She couldn’t let this happen. She wouldn’t let this happen.

“Will you keep coming?” she asked, her voice edged with quiet desperation. “To help with Padraig’s rescue?”

Niall turned back to her, and for a moment, something softened in his expression. “Aye. I will help Padraig.”

His returning would give her time. Time to figure something out. Time to come up with a plan. One thing was certain—she wasn’t leaving Niall behind, no matter what it took.

Except … having a child. That was a line she hadn’t signed up to cross with a man she barely knew.