Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
The door closed behind Cedric with a soft click.
The familiar darkness of the secret passage enveloped him as he stared at the stony barrier that stood between him and the woman he vowed to protect.
Maybe you shouldn’t. I never asked you to!
Her words clung to the chaotic storm in his mind. Pressing a hand to his brow, he exhaled a sharp sigh. Weeks ago, under the shade of trees, she had said she needed him, but now…
Irritation buzzed beneath his skin.
But if he searched deeper, it wasn’t anger that flooded him—it was fear.
The image of her limp body in his arms, the blood trickling from her head, had undone him. As he hurried to her side, her fluttering blue eyes met his, and his heart stopped, leaving him unable to breathe.
How many times would he arrive almost too late? What if there was no next time? How could he keep failing her?
And how could she be so reckless?
His boots moved on their own accord. Marching down the halls, he unlatched the concealed door leading into the barracks.
Several of his men were playing cards over barrels, chatting and laughing among themselves.
Some leaned against their bunk beds, smoking or polishing their boots.
When they saw him, they shot to their feet and saluted as he passed.
“Your break is over,” he barked. “Get to work.”
“Yes, Captain!” their voices shouted in unison.
They scrambled to get their things in order as he made his way to the training hall.
The large space was empty, the wood floors scarred by years of drills and sparring.
Slivers of moonlight beamed through tall, narrow windows, giving just enough light to make out the chalk ring marked on the floor.
Practice swords and rapiers were arranged along the walls, their blades dulled for sparring.
Cedric lit three sconces, grabbed a sword, and approached the nearest dummy. Once, twice, and three times he sliced through the layers of canvas protecting its straw innards. The crude face stitched on its head had a lopsided grin, mocking him.
“She doesn’t listen,” he muttered, performing a spin and striking its right side. “Why doesn’t she listen?”
Cedric slashed its floppy arm, then the other. The smile that remained on the straw dummy fueled his rage.
“She could have died!” He slashed through its abdomen, and straw exploded from its form. Pieces of hay floated over his boots, and he kicked at the debris.
“Sir?”
Cedric whirled, poised in a defensive stance, his sword raised. Jean leaned against the doorway, expression calm except for the slight quirk of his brow. He lowered his weapon, determining Jean a non-threat, and returned it to its place on the wall.
“What is it?” Cedric demanded.
“I’ve come to report.” Jean stepped inside, eyeing the straw littering the ground.
Cedric rolled his hand, “Go on, then.”
“We followed the culprits, but they split in different directions. We lost track of them.”
Cedric swore under his breath.
“However, one of them left this behind.” Jean fished a small, cream-colored packet out of his pocket. “I think you’ll recognize what it is.”
Cedric gingerly took it from him and unfolded the seal. The odorless white powder gleamed softly, revealing its iridescent sheen under the dim light.
Silent Breath.
A chill traced his shoulders. This had not been smuggled in blindly—someone had made room for it.
Sealing it away, Cedric slipped the packet into his pocket for further study. “Is there anything else to report?”
“No, sir.”
“Then your next mission is to track down those men. I want their names, where they live, and who hired them. And look into who is providing Silent Breath shipments in the black market.”
Jean saluted, “Yes, Captain.”
Turning, Cedric waved a hand in dismissal.
There was more to this plot than anyone had realized. Something in him had whispered it from the beginning, but now evidence lay folded in his pocket. The spy who had poisoned the first assassin was still at large, and now he suspected there were more.
As he picked up the training sword, his mind wandered, captivated by the silvery gleam of its blunted edge. But instead of metal, he saw stone floors, a forgotten cellar, and Nin crumpled on the ground.
“She never should have been down there,” he murmured.
“No,” a voice chimed in behind him. “She shouldn’t have felt the need to.”
Cedric pivoted, frowning as Jean remained leaning against the doorframe. He should have known he was still there—he hadn’t heard the telltale retreat of his boots.
Perhaps he was losing his edge.
His gaze sharpened.
“I know, I know. I’ve been dismissed,” Jean said, pushing off the doorframe. “But you’re calling it the wrong thing.”
Hot pressure built behind Cedric’s ribs as he folded his arms over his chest. “She defied orders.”
Jean didn’t argue the point. “She followed a lead we missed—and nearly paid for it,” he said. “But she found something we didn’t.”
Cedric stared into the ground as tonight’s events rolled through his mind like a tidal wave. The blood—her listless form—haunted his mind.
“She acted alone.”
Jean took another step closer. “Would you have let her act otherwise?”
Cedric refused to answer.
“You can call it defiance,” Jean continued, more quietly now. “Or you can call it instinct. Either way, it’s the reason we have anything to go on. She acted on what she believed was necessary.”
Another argument sat at the tip of Cedric’s tongue, but he couldn’t give it shape.
Jean inclined his head. “Captain.” He saluted, then turned and took his leave.
Cedric’s eyes remained locked on the floor, tracing the scuffs in the wood for several minutes. Conflicting thoughts and emotions battled for dominance.
Why couldn’t she do as she was told?
The rules had served him well. Order amid the unpredictable flow of court politics had kept him sane. Rules were predictable and safe.
Despite that, there were things he could not control.
The Duval family was known for strict command and steady leadership.
They followed the law, remained loyal, and performed their duties without question.
Yet Cedric and his family had once been at the mercy of a single rumor.
One word had nearly destroyed their livelihood and a hundred-year legacy—born of nothing more than jealousy.
The rules hadn’t protected them.
And confinement hadn’t kept Nin safe.
No matter what he did to protect her, danger would still find her. It was in the very nature of the duty he had asked of her. He had put her in harm’s way and justified it by attempting to be her shield.
He had traded the princess’s life for hers.
Guilt stung within him, and he sighed. Cedric couldn’t erase that fact, but he wouldn’t allow her to face the threat alone. Perhaps Jean was right. Although she risked herself, she did what she believed was necessary.
It was up to him to guide her through what he had set in motion.