Chapter 4 #2
Fine. Moving on. He swung down from the saddle and knelt beside a cluster of cords looped around a low branch. Whoever had built this contraption was cunning, resourceful, and—judging by the sheer amount of noise—determined to scare intruders off rather than fight them outright.
They don’t want open combat. Maybe they were too few or simply trying to avoid bloodshed.
But that didn’t make sense, not with the skeletal remains left outside the cave. Finn wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Focus. There’s a puzzle here. Solve it.
Before he could trace the ropes further, Finn glimpsed a flash of movement in his periphery. He froze.
Auburn hair caught the light as a slender figure slipped between the trees. Finn’s breath stalled in his throat. Princess Gwenna?
He’d seen the official portrait hanging in Solavere Palace—a bright-eyed royal girl with that same distinctive shade of hair. Could it truly be her?
Finn was off and moving before his brain fully caught up.
“Princess Gwenna!” he shouted to be heard over the racket, breaking into a run. “Wait! I’m here to help!”
Branches clawed at him as he pushed forward, but she was already slipping away, vanishing between trees like a ghost in the mist.
Finn skidded to a halt near a gnarled oak, torn between chasing blindly or returning to Ghost. Was that really her?
He glanced back, gauging the risk of leaving Ghost alone. She stood exactly where he left her, unbothered. Her dark gaze tracked him with mild patience, like she was waiting for him to be done with whatever nonsense he was about to run into.
“Stay here, girl,” Finn called.
Ghost flicked an ear. Possibly acknowledgment. Possibly boredom. Either way, she wasn’t moving.
Finn turned back toward the tangled undergrowth ahead.
Too thick for a horse, but not for someone on foot.
He didn’t waste time hesitating. Finn plunged forward, brambles raking across his armor, branches snapping in his wake.
He ducked under a low limb, boots slipping slightly in the damp earth as he pushed harder.
The trees thinned.
Ahead, a stone watchtower loomed, draped in ivy. A weed-choked courtyard stretched before him—an abandoned military outpost, just as he’d been told.
This was it.
His gaze swept the area, searching for any sign of movement—a flash of auburn hair, a flicker of gold.
“Princess Gwenna!” he called, wincing at the roughness in his throat. “It’s safe now. I’m here to rescue you!”
Silence answered him. The wind stirred the ivy across the walls, and in the distance he could just make out the faint noise of birds returning to the forest canopy.
Then, from within the tower, a voice crackled with outrage: “Piss off, you armored twat!”
For a beat, his brain simply refused to process the words. Princesses were supposed to beg for rescue, not curse out their would-be saviors.
That’s…not what I expected. He had pictured so many things on this ride. A trapped princess, lonely and afraid. A woman desperate for help. Maybe even a tearful reunion with civilization after ten years of solitude.
This?
This was not in the script.
Finn exhaled slowly, resetting his expectations in real time. Straightening, he called back, keeping his voice even despite the whiplash in tone. “Your Highness,” he said, “I understand you’ve endured something terrible here. I promise, I mean you no harm.”
A pause. Finn tilted his head, waiting for a response. None came.
He cleared his throat. “King Darius sent me to rescue you.”
For a moment, all was still again.
Then, the same defiant voice, brimming with frustration. “I said piss off! I don’t need rescuing, and I’m certainly not going anywhere with you!”
Finn blinked. Well, that was emphatic.
He gritted his teeth, confusion tangling with irritation. This was not how rescues were supposed to go. What was going on?
Was she brainwashed? Doubtful. She sounded far too coherent for that. Possessed? Also unlikely. Unless possession made you really, really annoyed.
Which left the most plausible option—this is what a decade of captivity does to a person.
Especially a princess who once lived in a gilded palace and now, apparently, lived in a ruin full of trap-rigged cookware.
But Finn had seen no sign of Gwenna’s potential captors, or of the dragon, so this was his best opportunity to free the princess.
He forced a calming breath. Fine. She wanted defiant? He could work with defiant.
“I’m coming in, Your Highness,” he announced, picking his way across the courtyard toward the door. Finn heroically avoided tripping over a good-sized rock shrouded by the weeds.
His free hand hovered near Sunwrath’s hilt while the other reached for the door handle. Because if she wasn’t alone, he’d rather not go inside unarmed.
Finn barely had time to test the tower’s door before a resounding roar ripped through the clearing.
The sound vibrated through him, rattling his bones, snapping him into high alert.
His body reacted from sheer instinct and training.
Sunwrath flashed free of its sheath, Finn’s stance low and braced for defense or attack.
A massive, golden reptilian shape emerged from behind the tower. The dragon’s scales caught the sunlight, dazzling in arcs of molten brilliance. Finn’s stomach plummeted, fear and adrenaline boiling together in a white-hot surge.
The same dragon that killed my father. The one that ruined my life.
Jaws parted in a low, rolling growl of challenge as the dragon prowled closer. Its wings half-unfurled, casting an intimidating silhouette. Finn couldn’t help but note the dark intelligence in its gold-flecked eyes. This was no mindless creature—there was a keen awareness there.
His pulse thundered in his ears, but he held his ground, Sunwrath raised. His grip tightened, feet shifting back as the dragon prowled closer.
Another step forward for the dragon, another back for Finn. No, he couldn’t retreat. Not when the beast that caused so much heartbreak stood before him. Jaw clenched, Finn hefted the longblade, assessing the dragon. Go for the soft point of the throat or wing joint. That was his best chance.
A sudden cry shattered Finn’s concentration. “No! Stop!”
Princess Gwenna burst from the tower, chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders, violet eyes burning with something fierce. Not fear. Not desperation. Anger.
And why in all the hells was she running toward the dragon?
His breath caught—because she wasn’t just standing near the dragon. No, she was in front of it. Shielding it. Finn staggered, mind scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing.
The dragon made a low rumble—not quite a threat, not quite amusement.
Finn remained in his defensive stance. “Princess Gwenna,” he tried again, steady, but urgent, “that dragon is dangerous.”
Gwenna didn’t move. “And you’re not?” she challenged.
He took a cautious step closer. “It killed your family.”
Gwenna’s expression darkened. Before Finn could read more of her expression, the ground trembled beneath his boots.
The dragon had shifted—not to attack, but to place itself between them. A deep growl rolled from its chest like distant thunder. But something about the beast’s posture seemed…hesitant. Its talons flexed in the earth, but its jaws remained closed, the lethal fangs hidden.
Finn’s anger surged. Hesitant or not, this monster is the reason my father died. He didn’t hesitate.
Years of training and vengeance burned through him, fueling the lunge. Sunwrath flashed in a tight arc, angled for the vulnerable spot between head and neck—where armor thinned, where a clean strike could end it.
The dragon recoiled, wings mantling in a sweeping dodge. Finn braced for a counterattack—a gout of flame, a clawed strike, something.
It didn’t come. The dragon retreated, but still blocked Gwenna. The princess stood behind the beast, arms crossed.
Finn took a step backward, sucking in a breath to help his mind focus as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. A stolen princess who didn’t want rescue. A dragon that didn’t attack on sight.
It didn’t matter, though. He’d made a vow.
“You must see reason!” he shouted, his voice raw. Finn tried another lunge, but the dragon sidestepped again. It let out a warning snarl, but still no attack. “I’m not your enemy, Princess Gwenna! I came to save you—”
“Save me from what?” she yelled back, eyes flashing. “My own independence? Leave, you fool!”
His thoughts snagged on that. Independence?
Damn it all.
If Gwenna wouldn’t come willingly, then—fine. He’d force her hand. Get her away from the dragon first, argue later.
The beast growled, tail lashing like an agitated cat, but still held back. Finn’s mind raced. No claws. No fire. No real fight. It’s holding back. Why?
Did it matter? Not really. Not when this was the dragon he’d dreamed of killing for so long. Its hesitation gave him an opening.
He feinted left, sword slicing through the air. The dragon dodged, wings flaring as if shielding Gwenna.
That was exactly what Finn wanted.
He lunged, driving the beast back a few paces. Gwenna edged aside to avoid the dragon’s retreating claws, ducking beneath an outstretched wing.
There’s my opening. He slammed Sunwrath into its sheath mid-motion, sprinting for the princess.
Grab her and run. That’s the only way. Deal with the dragon later.
He was almost there when the dragon’s tail came out of nowhere. It caught Finn’s legs, and he lost his footing entirely.
The world tilted—sky, trees, dirt, all blurring together.
He tumbled end over end, slamming through the underbrush with bone-jarring force, though his enchanted armor absorbed the worst of it.
Pain blazed in his side as he rolled to a stop, body screaming in protest. For a moment, white spots swarmed across his vision, and he tasted blood at the corner of his mouth.
Finn struggled into a sitting position. He forced a ragged breath, gulping air into his throbbing lungs.
Beyond the tangle of branches, he glimpsed the dragon, still standing guard in front of Princess Gwenna.
It hadn’t chased him. It hadn’t tried to finish him off.
Instead, it regarded him with narrowed, golden eyes, as though daring him to try again.
Finn clenched his teeth, humiliation burning hotter than the pain lacing his ribs. The princess was watching, her expression difficult to read. Not fear or the desperation of someone longing for rescue, of that he was certain. If anything, she looked furious with him for intruding.
He pushed to his knees, swallowing a groan as pain licked up his side. Damn it. The thought came unbidden, thick with guilt and grief. I failed.
His fingers twitched for his sword—only to spot it several feet away, half-buried in the dirt. The distance might as well have been a mile.
Swallowing the coppery taste in his mouth, Finn staggered upright.
His balance wavered, but he steadied himself with a sharp inhale.
It took far too much effort to reclaim his sword.
He wasn’t fighting this battle again today.
The dragon’s unwavering glare promised that a second charge would end far worse.
Finn’s soldier instincts cut through the haze of anger: Withdraw. Regroup. Live to fight another day.
With a muffled curse, he stumbled toward the treeline, one hand clasped tight over his ribs. Leaves and brambles snagged at his legs, as if the entire damned forest wanted him gone. He pushed forward anyway.
He shot one last look over his shoulder. The princess had stepped beside the dragon again, her posture less defensive, more…resigned. Finn’s stomach twisted as he caught the relief on her face. Relief that he was leaving.
His jaw locked. That thing killed her parents. Burned their palace. Took everything. And she’s standing beside it like a trusted ally?
Finn’s hands curled into fists, frustration and confusion churning hot in his mind. Fine. He was in no shape to keep fighting today. But he’d be back.
He had to find Ghost, tend to his wounds, and—most importantly—figure out how to break the dragon’s hold over the princess. Because whatever had happened to her in these ten long years, whatever the beast had done to twist her mind…
Finn refused to leave her here.