Page 7 of An Enchanted Knight

Astounded, Tristan’s eyes widened. “How long was I gone?” That time moved differently on the two planes made timekeeping difficult for them while leaping. Although time seemed to move at a normal rate in the alter-world, when they went to current time, it moved faster.

“Two days,” Gavin told him.

He’d thought to have been gone less than an hour, if that. But the fact that, in this plane, he’d been gone so much longer didn’t surprise him. Nothing did anymore.

Tristan looked back to Liam. “Attacked how? Were ye caught outside? Were they able to enter the keep?”

“A group of centaurs and a couple Minotaur attacked before we could make it back inside, after escorting ye out to leap,” Liam replied.

Minotaur were exceptionally strong, but not usually a deathly threat when in small numbers. “There were about twenty centaurs,” Padraig added shaking his head.

Tristan now noticed bruises and some bandages. Gavin sported a nasty gash on his jaw that was already healing. Padraig’s left eye was slightly swollen, his bottom lip split, and Liam’s right hand was wrapped in bandages.

It seemed Niall had been busy.

Liam spoke again after allowing Tristan to look about the room, pride in his voice. “Of course, we were able to defend ourselves and managed to kill more than half before making it back to the keep.”

“A missive was nailed to the front door when we reached it.” Gavin handed Tristan a piece of rolled parchment.

The parchment crackled as Tristan unrolled it, everyone’s eyes landed on him as he read the words.

“Betrayal will come. Lord McRainey will turn against all of ye in his quest for freedom. He will gain his freedom at the expense of yours. Be warned.”

Tristan slammed his fist on the tabletop and jumped to his feet, his chair falling behind him. “I will never betray any of you and I will not leave unless we all leave together. That is my oath.”

Padraig, who’d sat next to him, stood as well and placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “We don’t doubt ye Tristan. But ye cannot make such an oath.”

The young knight looked around the room at the other men. “Ye know the rules of the enchantment. We can only leave one at a time, unless by some chance two of our fates are linked. Each of us will have a different quest, a different enchantress, and a different outcome.”

“Of course, this could be Meliot’s way to dissuade ye from seeking the enchantress that will free us,” Gavin replied, his golden gaze meeting his. “And since the rules don’t allow for us to know what is true and what is not...” He didn’t finish, turning toward the fire.

“To hell with this place and its damned rules,” Tristan exclaimed. “Why do we even try? Everything in this accursed place has been and will always be a lie. If this enchantress manages to get past Meliot’s spell binding me here, I have little doubt another binding of some sort will take its place.”

He stormed from the room tired of all the tricks and rules and even more exhausted by the hope that had dared to flicker within him.

As he walked away, he overheard Padraig chuckle, “We didn’t even get to ask him about his trip.”

He hesitated in the hallway, trying to decide if he needed to return to the room. Truth be told, he shouldn’t have lost his temper. It wasn’t their fault. They, like him, went through the same experience.

“Be silent, Paddy,” Liam admonished the young knight. “More than we can imagine is in store for Tristan.”

Liam, who had the gift of foresight, continued. “I only hope this lass is as strong as he needs her to be.”

Chapter Four

Derrick McRainey, Edith’s nephew, arrived early the next the morning. Gwen and Edith had barely sat down to breakfast when he walked through the doorway and paused just inside, his lips curving in greeting.

Allowing her gaze to take in the man’s appearance, which he seemed to be expecting, Gwen couldn’t help but acknowledge that the McRainey genes were definitely passed down to Derrick.

The dark-haired man stood well over six feet tall, was broad-shouldered with an athletic physique. No wonder he’d had success as a rich playboy, if social media was any indicator.

“Aunt Edith, you look well. May I join you for breakfast?” he asked. Then he turned to Gwen. “Good morning, miss.” His dark eyes sparkled mischievously at her.

“Good morning,” both women replied.

Edith turned her face up when he neared and kissed her cheek. Then she extended her hand, motioning to the chair opposite Gwen’s. “Derrick, please join us.”

She regarded her nephew with a cool smile and was silent for a moment, then seemed to gain her composure. “This is Gwyneth Lockhart, the professional ghost medium I hired to see about Tristan McRainey.”