Chapter 19 #3
Gwenna ignored him and slipped inside the stable. Another quarter hour before sunset, she estimated, wiping sweat from her brow.
Cedric lay curled on the stable floor. He cracked one eye open at her entrance, but didn’t bother moving. Didn’t even lift his head. He looked as if he hadn’t left the stables all day. A fresh pang of worry lanced through her. He’s getting worse.
She took a step closer, rubbing her forehead. “We don’t have time for this.”
His other eye opened. She was demanding, yes, but that was nothing new. Gwenna’s bluntness rarely startled him. But urgency—that did.
With a low, reluctant sigh, Cedric heaved himself upright. The tips of his wings and horns brushed against the stable ceiling as he adjusted.
“It’s worse than we thought, Ced.”
A sharp, inquisitive growl rumbled from his chest, his tail flicking against the straw. Explain.
Gwenna swallowed her fear. “We have to leave. Now. And...and we have to help Finn.”
His scaled brow furrowed deeply. His head tilted, the ridges above his eyes tightening.
Cedric bumped her lightly with his snout—urging her to slow down and tell him everything.
So she did.
She recounted all of it. The village. The wanted posters.
The whispered rumors of a knight imprisoned for treason.
Cedric listened in total silence, motionless save for the occasional fidget of his claws.
But as she spoke, she noted the change in his expression, in the way his breathing grew heavier.
Shock gave way to grim understanding. Then his entire frame tensed, talons digging into the ground.
His nostrils flared, his pupils constricting to narrow slits. She knew that look.
“Thalos drown me, of course it’s that time,” Gwenna muttered, already retreating.
The change was coming.
She yanked Clarence by the horn and dragged the stubborn goat outside with her, ignoring his indignant bleats. “You’re the worst emotional support animal,” she grumbled, shoving him toward the pen.
To distract herself from the sounds of cracking bones and shifting scales inside the stable, Gwenna busied herself—refilling the water trough in the goat pen and tossing extra feed for the chickens.
But her mind wasn’t on the chores. It was on Finn.
What is Darius doing to him right now? How much longer before he breaks?
The stable door flew open.
Cedric strode out, barefoot and sweat-slicked, his breathing labored. His shirt clung to him, damp from the shift, his blonde hair disheveled. “What do you mean Finn is imprisoned?”
Gwenna turned. “I mean exactly what those words sound like,” she snapped. “Unless Darius found a reason to lock up another knight. But Finn—”
“—is the only knight who failed to return with a princess and slay an evil dragon,” Cedric finished grimly. He took a step back, running a hand through his unruly hair. Then another step. Then he pivoted on his heel and paced. “This is my fault.”
Gwenna’s jaw clenched. Gods, not this again.
She marched after him and clamped her hands onto his shoulders, forcing him to stop. “No, Ced. This isn’t your fault. It’s Darius. It’s always been Darius.”
His muscles twitched beneath her grip. He gave a sharp nod, but his expression twisted into something darker. “Darius imprisoned Finn because... because Finn protected us.”
That was the same conclusion Gwenna had reached. It was increasingly possible that her brother was correct about the knight’s character. And now he would pay for that. She swallowed, peering into Cedric’s face. “Darius isn’t a good man.”
Cedric’s shoulders sagged. His head dipped in silent agreement.
They had both wanted to believe Darius was good. It had been easier, once. He was charming when he wanted to be, clever, even kind. Gwenna and Cedric had both fallen for it.
“Finn knows. And now Darius will do anything to get that knowledge from him.” Cedric stared up at the darkening sky as if it held answers.
Darius didn’t bluff. He didn’t make empty threats. And he would break Finn. He would rip that knowledge from him piece by piece, no matter what it took. Once he had what he wanted...
Gwenna refused to let that thought fully form.
Cedric whispered, “We can’t abandon him.”
She sighed. A large, very loud part of her wished they could. This was Finn’s mess, after all. He had played both sides. The knight had chosen to betray his duty. He had chosen to kiss Cedric, to break his heart, to leave.
But for a moment, Cedric had been happy. Or as close to happy as he could get. If Finn died because of this, because of them, Cedric would never forgive himself. And that kind of guilt—the deep kind that rooted itself in the marrow of your bones—was the sort that destroyed people.
Gwenna rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You’d have to go home.”
Cedric flinched. Home. The place where everything had gone wrong. Where he had lost himself. Where his life had changed forever.
A sad, knowing smile pulled at his lips. “But I won’t be alone.”
“No, big brother,” Gwenna murmured, voice quieter now. “You won’t.” She sucked in a breath. “And maybe it’s time for things to change. We’ve been hiding for so long. Maybe it’s time we faced our past and took control of our future.”
Cedric’s eyes burned with new determination. “Sounds like we have some packing to do,” he said.
Clarence let out a bleat of agreement.