A Knight for the Celebrity

By Adonis Devereux

Nora Lyons was a prisoner in New Britain, and though she escaped to rebel Scotland with her sister, she hasn’t been able to escape the enchantments that still cling to her. She’s wasting away, so she is sent to Avalon to die in peace. Sir Gawain, Arthur’s heir, is so smitten with her beauty and kindness that he resolves to save her, no matter the cost.

What healing can be found in Avalon for Nora’s mind? What healing can be found in Gawain’s arms for Nora’s heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781772336849

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Copyright© 2016 Adonis Devereux

ISBN: 978-1-77233-684-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: JC Chute

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

JMJ

A KNIGHT FOR THE CELEBRITY

Knight Moves, 4

Adonis Devereux

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Five, four, three… The two and the one were silent hand signals, but Nora, so long accustomed to appearing before the cameras, could almost hear the count in her head. The lights were bright and hot, and sweat started to bead up along Nora’s spine.

She tried to remember how long this session was supposed to be, but found she couldn’t. Still, when the lead-in music faded, her mouth opened on its own, and words, flawlessly spoken, faultlessly memorized, poured out.

Scotland is now free. It’s been a hard campaign, a long one, but we’re free of the unlawfully usurped power of Prime Minister Morgan. But are we to leave our fellow Britons under her yoke? No. How could we? We Scots have never endured tyranny, and we won’t now. Nora smiled wearily. I’m Nora Lyons. And that’s the truth.

I’m Nora Lyons. And that’s the truth. Why did that phrase seem to stick to her lips, scarcely to be spoken?

Nora furrowed her brow. There was something wrong. She was confused again.

Cut! That’s a wrap. I’ll have it up for broadcast within the hour.

Why am I being recorded, again?

The bustling television stage seemed eerie to Nora, and she was glad to withdraw to her dressing room. Finding it empty and mercifully silent, she sat down, feeling a weariness that seemed to settle in her very marrow.

Aspirin, Miss Lyons?

Nora looked up. When did I start looking down at my hands?

A tired-looking man in a military uniform with a dull white badge and a faded red cross around his upper arm stood before her. He offered her two small, white tablets.

Thank you. Nora took the tablets, and was unsurprised to find a glass of water on her dressing table. There was always water around, always someone giving her something to eat or drink, always someone offering her aspirin or some kind of painkiller.

Nothing helped, though.

The dull, throbbing, thudding pain never left from behind her eyes. The slight ache in her belly, as though she were hungry, never went away regardless of what she ate. The scratchiness of her throat, the dryness of her mouth never ceased, regardless of what she drank.

The world was a dull, grey place, full of a dragging discomfort that never eased. Nora could not remember the last time she had had a full night of rest, nor could she recall the last time she had seen a color brighter than the faded, dull blue of her own eyes.

Nora looked at her reflection in the mirror above her dressing table.

Do you not want the aspirin, Miss Lyons? The medic was still waiting.

Oh, thank you. Nora swallowed the pills without tasting them and then drank from the glass by her hand. She resumed her self-examination as the medic left her alone. She looked awful, and there was more to it than having had a hard winter.

Her hair was longer than regulation. Are there even any regulations anymore? There were dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were drawn, almost sunken. It looked