Page 25 of An Unlikely Knight

Chapter Eight

The air shifted around him as Padriag materialized in the labyrinth at Sterling’s castle. Relieved not to have appeared outside the gates, he bent at the waist in relief. The entire time he’d been at Dunimarle, he’d worried about the return to Esland.

There was no telling what would have occurred if he’d miscalculated and ended up in a place from where it would be hard to traverse without being poisoned by plants or killed by whatever creatures were out there.

He made his way into the castle and climbed the stairs toward the rooms he and Liam had been assigned.

“Padriag,” Sterling called from the first floor. “We must speak.”

The prince’s expression was grim. Either he’d done something wrong, or there was bad news considering the tight line his lips formed.

“With me,” Sterling said, motioning for Padriag to accompany him. Together they walked into what looked to be the prince’s private dining room.

Once inside, Sterling turned sharply to face him, his silver-blue eyes unreadable in the dim candlelight. “We should sit.”

Padriag swallowed against the knot tightening in his stomach. The prince’s tone, clipped and formal, gave him little doubt that whatever was about to be said wouldn’t be good. Still, he followed him in silence to a balcony where a small, ornately carved table sat beneath the open sky. The night air carried the scent of jasmine and something metallic—perhaps the lingering aura of Esland’s strange foliage.

They sat. The tension between them was palpable. Sterling’s fingers drummed against the polished surface of the table, his expression one of barely concealed impatience.

“Is there anything you wish to say to me?” the prince asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Not exactly the way Padriag had expected this conversation to begin. He frowned. “About?”

“Today.”

Padriag exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. “I wasn’t around much today. I came down, had first meal, then returned to my room, changed clothes, and attempted to cross into the other realm. For the past few weeks, it has been nearly impossible. Today, it was … easier. Judging by the movement of the suns in the sky, I was gone for half a day.”

Sterling’s frown deepened, his fingers stilling. “I am certain that when Veylen explained our laws to you and Liam, he made it abundantly clear—Esland forbids travel outside the realm.”

Padriag’s brow lifted. “So your citizens are prisoners?”

The reaction was immediate. The prince’s nostrils flared, and his gaze darkened with cold fury. “They are protected, not imprisoned,” he ground out, his grip tightening on the arms of his chair. “If they wish to leave, they may do so.”

“If they manage to survive what you claim to be a poisonous and perilous wasteland.” Padriag’s tone was measured but laced with challenge. “And I assume, should they succeed, they are considered outcasts?”

Sterling’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “Do not pretend to understand the laws of my kingdom.”

It took every ounce of restraint not to push further. Padriag had already tested the prince’s temper enough and antagonizing him would get him nowhere. Instead, he inclined his head slightly.

“I will allow it just this once,” Sterling said after a long pause, his tone firm. “Perhaps you did not fully grasp the information when it was first explained to you.”

Padriag nodded, his expression schooled into something more diplomatic. “When Veylen told us that travel to the other realms was forbidden, we understood it to mean to Atlandia or Meliot’s gloomy lands—not that we were barred from dematerializing and returning home.”

Some of the fire in Sterling’s gaze dimmed, and his posture eased. “That is why I am forgiving this time.”

But Padriag understood now—Esland’s laws were meant not only for its citizens, but for visitors as well. He and Liam were no exceptions.

A heavy silence stretched between them before he spoke again, his voice calm but unwavering. “According to your law, once someone leaves this realm, they cannot return.” He met Sterling’s gaze directly. “Once Liam returns, we will leave and return to the other realm, Atlandia, or where our keep is. There is no choice but to take our chances with Meliot’s sentries.”

Sterling said nothing.

Padriag pressed on. “The only way for me to be freed is to be in Scotland when it happens. Every one of our group whose curse has been broken was in the other realm.”

He took a breath before continuing. “Sterling, do you truly intend for me to remain here for the rest of my life? To be a burden, someone who depends on you and your hospitality until death?”

The prince’s expression was unreadable once more. Then, in a voice as smooth and unwavering as steel, he said, “You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish. My hospitality has no other limitations.”

Padriag clenched his jaw, his heart pounding. A gilded cage was still a cage. And it seemed that Sterling had no intention of wavering when it came to his ability to travel between Esland and Scotland.