Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Of all the people who could have walked up to me tonight, it had to be him. Cedric’s breath formed faint clouds in the cool night air as he made his way from Duskridge, a small lantern clutched in one hand and a sack of supplies balanced on his shoulder.
The moon hung low and bright in the sky, painting the world in silver and shadow.
He didn’t really need the lantern—his night vision was sharper than most thanks to his draconic curse—but it gave him an excuse to pretend he needed light.
It was comforting, too, in its own way. A tether to humanity when the beast within him was never far from the surface.
As soon as the knight had spoken, Cedric recognized the voice. He’d never seen his face—Finn had worn a helmet during the attack—but the voice was unmistakable. The same one that had assured Gwenna he had come to her rescue, who had insisted Cedric was the real threat.
And even as he’d hidden his fear at being discovered behind a mask of amusement and indifference, he’d found the knight far too interesting.
The town receded behind him, market lights flickering until they became little more than a speck against the darkness.
He tried to focus on the road. Cedric gritted his teeth, shifting the weight of the sack on his shoulder.
Finn. The name lodged in his mind like a thorn.
Their conversation in the market still played over and over—his attempt to project calm, Finn’s intense stare, the heat in the knight’s eyes that Cedric couldn’t quite dismiss as simple anger.
The flirting. The knight had most definitely been flirting…hadn’t he? Cedric huffed out a frustrated breath. Truth be told, he was out of practice when it came to basic social interactions.
And I found him handsome. Rather enjoyed the conversation. Aurenis grant me common sense! He’s a knight.
More than once tonight, he’d replayed their argument—faces inches apart, heat sparking in a way he had no right to feel for a man who wanted him dead.
He forced a slow exhale, trying to calm his pulse.
But the memory persisted, surfacing like a wave he couldn’t quell.
He’s just another knight, a fanatic for duty—someone who’d see me dead if he knew the truth.
The cold air smelled faintly of pine and damp bark, laced with the earthy musk of the undergrowth.
His draconic senses picked out every subtle shift in the breeze.
He almost wished a predator would skulk out of the shadows, just to give him a concrete enemy.
Because the real threat, the one that tweaked his nerves, was intangible. The knight’s determination. He won’t be dissuaded. Not easily. Even Gwenna’s furious rejection hadn’t changed his mind, apparently. If only he’d just turn around and leave before things escalate.
Moonlight caught on the narrow deer trail beneath his boots.
The forest pressed in on either side—gnarled trunks looming like silent sentinels.
It was a place that once might’ve frightened him, but after ten years, Cedric felt safer here than he ever had in the corridors of Solavere Palace.
Here, at least, the shadows didn’t judge him.
Cedric squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, letting the night wind brush against his cheeks. What would he do if Finn came back? If he came at night, Cedric could speak with him…but what were the odds of that?
He rounded a bend in the path, and the silhouette of the old outpost came into view, half-hidden by twisting vines and encroaching trees. Home. And yet, tonight, it felt less like a refuge and more like a tenuous fortress against the tides of the past.
He paused at the edge of the clearing, letting his gaze flick to the sky. The moon’s silver glow revealed roosting birds on skeletal branches, their eyes reflecting tiny pinpricks of light. Is the knight out there now, planning a return? A shiver of unease slid down Cedric’s spine.
Finn wasn’t dangerous because of his skill or stubbornness. It was the way he looked at Cedric—not like a monster, not like an enemy. But something infinitely more dangerous. Like he wanted to understand him.
Gods help him, but a traitorous part of Cedric desperately hoped the knight came back.
Enough. He shoved the thought aside and kept walking. Gwenna was likely waiting for him, and he had a thousand questions to parse before dawn demanded the inevitable shift.
I might have to leave this place, he realized bitterly. All because of him. The forest had become a haven, a quiet pocket of wilderness where he and Gwenna could exist without constant fear.
He swallowed the lump of frustration in his throat. Could they really uproot themselves again? Gwenna deserved better. She’d built a life here—her tinkering, her goats, her quiet contentment. And I dragged her into it. Anger flared, a familiar self-loathing that had never quite left him.
But I won’t kill another knight for no reason, he vowed silently, the wind biting at his cheeks.
If Finn forces my hand…I’ll find another way.
The very notion churned his stomach. Fighting Finn—somehow the idea bothered him more than any other mercenary or bounty hunter who’d ever come calling.
Was it because Cedric had learned his name, had spoken to him in a way that made him human and not a cruel enemy?
Or perhaps it was because he’d glimpsed the shadow of doubt in the knight’s eyes.
Or maybe it was the way Finn had looked at him just before Cedric left. More personal…more dangerous.
He paused in the courtyard, scanning the silent ruins. Night insects buzzed, and for an instant, he let the stillness envelop him. This is home, he reminded himself, heart heavy. I just hope it stays that way.
He clutched the sack of supplies—flour, salt, new threads for Gwenna’s sewing. Simple things that made their life a little more comfortable.
A soft sigh escaped him as his gaze drifted toward the treetops. If Finn came back, he wasn’t sure what scared him more—the fight he’d have to win, or the truths he wouldn’t be able to avoid.