Chapter 17 #2
Cedric wanted to argue. He wanted to believe—believe that Finn was different, that the man who had kissed him wasn’t the same knight who had set out to slay a dragon.
But doubt plagued him. What if Gwenna was right?
What if he’d been fooling himself all along, seeing what he wanted to see in Finn’s eyes?
“I don’t know what to do,” Cedric admitted, his voice breaking under the weight of it all. His shoulders curled inward, as if trying to make himself smaller. “I’ve ruined everything.”
Gwenna squeezed his hands. “No, you haven’t.
We’re still here, we’re still free. That’s what matters.
” She sighed, her grip tightening as if she could anchor him with just that touch.
“Look, we don’t have to leave immediately.
But we need to be prepared. I’ll start packing essentials, just in case. ”
Cedric couldn’t bring himself to respond.
“You should rest,” Gwenna continued. Her voice had softened, the anger fading into something quieter, more resolute. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
Cedric nodded, too drained to argue, too wrung out to do anything but accept Gwenna’s words.
She was right—of course she was. He should have slept during the day, should have given his body the reprieve it so desperately needed, but he hadn’t been able to.
The weight of it all—the grief, the self-loathing, the loss—had become a smoldering ache that sleep couldn’t fix.
So he had stayed awake, let exhaustion punish him in the only way he could control.
As Gwenna moved through the tower, gathering supplies, Cedric let his mind wander.
He thought of Finn, somewhere out in the world beyond this tower.
Was he already back in Mirathen, kneeling before the king, speaking Cedric’s fate into existence?
Had he told them everything? Had they mobilized an army?
Or was Finn still out there, riding alone, as torn and uncertain as Cedric himself?
The memory of their night together drifted through Cedric’s mind like a specter.
He remembered the warmth of Finn’s skin, the strength of his hands, the way he had held Cedric as if he were something precious.
The way their bodies had fit together, moving in time like they had been made for it.
It had felt so real, so terrifyingly right.
“You’re mine tonight,” Finn had whispered, his voice a possessive growl.
“No,” Cedric murmured aloud to himself, “I’m not.” His eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t fall.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under, pulling him into a restless sleep where his body sagged into the chair, arms crossed tightly as if to hold himself together. But even in sleep, there was no peace.
He dreamed of a knight riding a grey warhorse, his dark hair whipping in the wind as he rode away, never looking back.
In the middle of the night, Cedric stirred, his skin prickling with awareness at the lightest touch against his forehead.
His breath hitched. For one fractured second, his sleep-fogged mind thought it was Finn.
But when he forced his eyes open, it was Gwenna kneeling beside him, her face drawn tight with worry.
“You should sleep,” he grated, his voice like gravel.
Gwenna exhaled sharply and waved a hand. “I can’t. Not when I’m worried about you.”
Cedric blinked blearily at her. “Why are you worried about me?”
Her face contorted in the lantern light, her exasperation plain as day. “I would think that’s painfully obvious. You just had your heart broken, and your life is in danger.”
He frowned at that, looking away. He didn’t want to think about either of those things. Didn’t want his sister to worry about him, not when she had already given up so much for him. But what was there to say? He couldn’t reassure her—not when he couldn’t even reassure himself.
The unrelenting silence stretched between them.
Finally, unable to sit still, Cedric rose from the chair on trembling legs.
Gwenna sucked in a breath, likely preparing to scold him, but he ignored her and walked to the nearest window.
He pressed his palms against the sill, bracing himself as he stared out at the darkened forest below.
The trees were still, their branches unmoving in the crisp night air. And yet Cedric couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. He half-expected to see the glow of torches between the trunks, soldiers emerging like specters to drag him from this fragile life he had built.
But there was only darkness.
“Gwenna.” He hated how broken his voice sounded. “What if…what if I’m wrong about him?”
She scoffed, but moved to stand beside him, anyway. “I know you want to believe the best of him.” Her tone was softer now, edged with something that might have been sympathy. “But we can’t take that risk. Our safety has to come first. Your safety most of all.”
Cedric nodded absently, still gazing into the woods, searching for something he wasn’t even sure was there. But… “I just wish I could explain,” he admitted, his voice nearly lost to the night. “Make him understand.”
Gwenna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close.
“I know,” she murmured, her breath warm against his temple. “But sometimes, there are no explanations that can bridge the gap between what people expect and what is.”
They stood there for a long time, staring into the inky blackness of the forest, listening to the quiet hum of the night. Even Clarence was quiet, his usual mischief absent.
Cedric’s mind raced with possibilities, with all the things he wished he had said to Finn. How could he have explained? How do you tell someone that the thing they have spent their life hating is the very thing you are?
The curse. The years of isolation. The fear that had settled so deeply in his bones it had become a part of him, as real as his scales. How could Finn ever understand?
As exhaustion overtook him, Cedric allowed Gwenna to guide him to bed. But even as he lay down, he knew sleep would be elusive. Every time he closed his eyes, Finn was there.
In the night’s quiet, as the embers in the hearth dimmed, Cedric made a decision. He wouldn’t run. Not yet.
He would give Finn a chance to return. To seek answers. And if he did…
Cedric would tell him everything. The whole truth, no matter how painful.
It was a small hope, perhaps a foolish one. But it was all Cedric had left to cling to as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, dreams of raven-haired knights and golden dragons chasing each other through his mind.