Chapter 12 #2
“Thanks! It’s just a simple vegetable stew,” she replied. “We have some decent bread left over, too.”
“Reminds me of one my mother used to make,” Finn commented, inhaling the earthy scent of carrots, onions, and thyme. In truth, it sparked memories of simpler days before tragedy sank its claws into his life. “I haven’t seen your brother today. I wanted to thank him for letting me stay.”
Finn paused, arms folded across his chest, watching Gwenna’s hesitation on the carrot she was chopping. She looked up at him, her expression cautious, almost defensive.
“Cedric…works at night.” Gwenna’s voice was hesitant, her knife hovering over the cutting board. “He’s asleep right now.”
Finn arched a brow in curiosity. “Works? Doing what?” Then he paused. “Oh, do you mean the wood carving?”
“The wood carving,” she agreed with careful phrasing. “Among other things.”
Wood carving at night, in a tower with minimal light, struck him as peculiar. But then again, everything about this situation is strange. The prince sleeping in a barn, Gwenna’s refusal to dwell on the past, the protective dragon that roamed the forest.
Wait…sleeping in the barn? When he and Gwenna had stabled Ghost, the pallet had been empty. For a moment, Finn considered pressing her—why wasn’t Cedric on the pallet in the barn? Or was he sleeping in the outpost somewhere? The watchful look on Gwenna’s face cautioned him to tread lightly.
They settled into lunch. Gwenna steered the conversation toward safe topics—small anecdotes about the local wildlife, a passing reference to the village trade.
Finn listened intently, occasionally asking polite questions.
He gathered bits of insight into how they lived here: Gwenna’s tinkering, some garden harvests, and occasionally venturing to town.
Yet that was the extent of what she’d share.
She’s wary, he reminded himself. I’m still an outsider.
After lunch, Finn insisted on cleaning up.
He felt restless, wanting to do something useful, so Gwenna relented with a teasing threat that he not overexert himself.
Washing bowls and spoons provided a comforting rhythm, temporarily pushing aside the morass of larger questions—about Cedric’s midnight woodworking, Gwenna’s gentle suspicion, and the dragon that haunted his mission.
He spent much of the afternoon with Ghost. Gwenna suggested allowing Ghost a chance to graze, so he led the mare toward the goat pen.
The goats trotted over to investigate the newcomer in their midst, bleating curiously as Ghost snatched up a mouthful of grass.
Most of the goats cautiously sniffed at the mare before losing interest. Clarence, however, was another matter entirely.
The troublemaker eyed Ghost with clear suspicion before letting out a challenging bleat and attempting to headbutt her shoulder.
Ghost flicked an ear, completely unbothered, and simply stepped aside, leaving Clarence to huff indignantly.
Finn chuckled, shaking his head at the goat’s antics. “You’re lucky she doesn’t see you as a threat.”
Eventually, the mare wandered to a shady corner of the pen, settling in with contented flicks of her tail. Finn remained by the fence for a few more minutes, watching the easy rhythm of the animals before his curiosity drew him back inside.
He drifted toward the library alcove again, scanning the spines of the books for one that might help pass the time.
The day wore on, and he fell into a light doze in a chair by the bookshelf.
By the time he stirred, the sunlight had shifted, painting the stone walls in long, golden beams. He could hear Gwenna moving about, the telltale sounds of clattering pots and pans signaling the start of the evening meal.
Finn descended to find Gwenna preparing yet another savory dish—something involving roasted meat that made his stomach rumble just from the smell. His mind flicked to Cedric again: He was resting, presumably. Will he finally make an appearance?
Gwenna filled two cups with water from a jug.
They chatted as she continued the meal preparation, with Finn chipping in—mostly about Finn’s horse and the goats, interspersed with the occasional dry remark about how she hadn’t expected to be hosting a knight-errant in their tower.
Finn tried to laugh it off, focusing on the casual banter, but his thoughts inevitably circled back to Cedric’s absence.
“Will Cedric be joining us?” he ventured at last, pitching his voice as evenly as he could manage. Something about the question felt loaded, like he was asking permission to see the man again.
Gwenna glanced at the window, likely checking the sun’s position. “Yes, he should be here shortly. He never misses dinner.”
Finn let out a quiet exhale. Good, he thought, forcing an untroubled nod. “I can’t say I’d blame him. This smells delicious.” He gestured to the haunch of meat Gwenna was fussing over, juices sizzling in a shallow pan. His mouth practically watered just at the sight.
Before they could continue, the patter of hooves and a sudden, high-pitched bleat from outside broke the moment. Gwenna froze, spoon still in hand, then groaned, rolling her eyes heavenward. “That has to be Clarence again! Gods above, that goat is insufferable.”
Finn laughed—an involuntary reaction to her exasperation. He pushed back from the table, ignoring the faint twinge in his healing injuries. “I’ll go check on him,” he said impulsively. Perhaps it was a chance to prove he wasn’t completely helpless.
Gwenna lifted an amused brow. “Sure you’re up for it? You might want a battalion of knights at your back.”
He smirked, heading for the door. “How bad can a single goat be? I’ll bring him back, just you wait.”
Stepping outside, Finn found himself bathed in the dying light of the day.
Gold and rose hues streaked the sky, illuminating the courtyard and the goat pen.
Ghost lifted her head from an evening graze, ears flicking as Finn approached.
Around the mare, several goats milled about.
Except Clarence, who was conspicuously absent.
Sure enough, the fence on the far side looked compromised—warped boards and splintered edges hinted at the goat’s latest escapade. Finn sighed, bracing himself for the hunt. All right, troublemaker, where did you run off to?
He scanned the tree line. The woods beyond stood in dappled twilight. If Clarence had bolted there, Finn might be in for a chase. He winced. Well, I volunteered, he reminded himself, forging onward.
An imperious bleat split the air. Finn spun on his heel. Clarence stood at the edge of the clearing like some smug minor king surveying his dominion. The goat flicked his tail, chewing leisurely on a mouthful of grass as if daring Finn to try.
Finn sighed, rolling his shoulders as he slowly advanced. “All right, you rascal. Let’s get you back where you belong.”
Clarence, of course, had other plans.
Before Finn could react, the goat lunged—a blur of matted fur and curved horns.
The impact punched into Finn’s stomach like a battering ram, driving the air from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
He hit the ground hard, making Finn regret his lack of enchanted armor as his shoulder blades struck knotted tree roots.
Pain radiated up his spine. He wheezed, fingers clawing at dirt as he fought to suck in a breath that wouldn’t come.
He had faced armed opponents, wild beasts, even the claws of a dragon—but apparently, it was a damned goat that would best him.
Footsteps pounded nearby. Finn blinked through watering eyes as Cedric’s face swam into view—sharp features drawn tight with concern. “Finn!” The prince dropped to one knee. Strong fingers skimmed Finn’s arm, checking for injuries. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Finn grimaced, his pride nursing a deeper wound than his body.
He shoved himself upright, wincing at the throbbing ache blooming across his torso.
“Just got taken out by a goat.” He swiped a hand across his mouth, tasting soil and humiliation.
“Clarence seems to have picked a fight I wasn’t ready for. ”
A warm chuckle escaped Cedric, but his golden-brown eyes still swept over Finn, lingering on the grass stains streaking his borrowed clothing. Finn swore he could feel those eyes like a touch.
When their gazes met, Finn’s pulse thundered. Not from the fall.
“You sure you’re all right?” Cedric extended a hand, dirt smudging his knuckles.
Finn grasped it without thinking. Bad idea. The contact sent an inexplicable jolt through him—the prince’s firm grip, the kind of touch that made Finn’s heartbeat trip over itself in a way he did not appreciate. Cedric hauled him upright, boots slipping on loose dirt before Finn found his footing.
“It just knocked the wind out of me,” he managed, quickly letting go before he could register the warmth lingering in Cedric’s palm. “Though maybe I should avoid challenging goats in the future.”
Cedric’s lips quirked. “That may be wise.” Amusement danced in his eyes, brighter than the stars above. “Maybe stick with dragons.”
Dragons. Finn’s throat went dry as old memories sprang to life.
He cleared his throat, the motion tugging at his bruised muscles.
“I’ll leave goat wrangling to you for now.
” The words came out stilted. When his eyes met Cedric’s again, the dragon memory dissolved like smoke.
There was only the flecked amber of the prince’s gaze, the faint lines at their corners from too many stifled smiles.
Kavros help him, but Finn could lose himself in those eyes if he wasn’t careful.
Gwenna’s voice cracked through the moment like a whip. “What in Sylvara’s name is taking so long?” She stood framed in the kitchen doorway, flour dusting her apron. “Are you out there wrestling with the goat?”
Finn tore his gaze from Cedric, suddenly all too aware of how ridiculous he must look, covered in dust with his dignity lying somewhere in the dirt behind him. “Just, uh, giving Clarence a refresher on respect.” His ears burned.
Gwenna gave him a once-over and arched a knowing brow. “Looks to me like you’re the one who got the lesson.” She waved a hand toward the door. “Come on in. Dinner’s ready.”
Finn risked a glance at Cedric. Twilight deepened the hollows of his cheekbones, gilding his long hair like a crown. Unfair, really, how the fading light seemed to conspire in making him look every bit the prince he claimed not to be.
For a heartbeat, Finn wondered how those strands would feel between his fingers. The thought struck out of nowhere, slipping past his defenses before he could shove it aside.
“Let’s get inside, shall we?” Cedric’s voice broke his thoughts, light as sun through storm clouds. But as they turned toward the tower, his sleeve brushed Finn’s arm—an absent touch, a whisper of contact that burned through layers of linen like a brand.
Finn nodded, falling into step beside him.
The night stretched before them, full of unknowns, full of truths left unsaid. And for the first time since setting foot on this journey, Finn wondered if this quest was leading him somewhere entirely different than he’d ever expected.