Chapter 26 #3
For one agonizing heartbeat, he thought Cedric had won.
Then the humanity in his eyes faded. Extinguished, like a candle snuffed out. Like a man losing the war. Like a beast surrendering to instinct.
And in that instant, Finn knew he should never have dropped his sword. He had been horribly wrong.
One moment of hope, gone.
A blur of gold and terror crashed into Finn, so fast he had no time to react. Pain exploded through his skull as his back slammed into the earth. His lungs crushed under the dragon’s claws.
Finn gasped for air. This was real. This was happening.
He had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Above him, jaws unhinged. Flames lit the depths of the dragon’s throat. And Finn understood, at last, that he was going to die.
He should have been afraid. He should have begged.
Instead, he whispered, “I love you.” His voice broke. Finn tasted blood on his tongue. “I love you. And I forgive you.”
The dragon loomed over its prey.
The weak thing beneath his claws was still breathing, still trembling, still his. Molten fire swelled inside him, ready to burn the last fight out of this creature.
He had done this before. Again and again. He had felt bones snap, tasted the tang of a kill. It was instinct, it was hunger, it was right.
His prey did not beg. It whispered.
“I love you.”
The dragon shuddered. The words were meaningless. They should have been meaningless. But something inside him cracked.
A tremor rippled through his scales. The magic snarled at the disturbance, coiling tighter around his mind, pressing its will upon his flesh. Finish it. Burn him. Kill him.
The voice came again, soft as a dying breath. “I love you. And I forgive you.”
Cedric screamed. But not out loud. Not in a way anyone could hear.
He was there. Inside the dragon’s mind. Watching. Powerless.
And Finn was about to die.
The dragon did not understand love. It did not understand forgiveness. But Cedric did. And gods, he couldn’t bear it.
He saw Finn clearly now, not as prey, but as everything.
The man who had stood beside him beneath the stars. Who had shamelessly flirted with him, who had watched him carve wood into something beautiful. The man who had trusted him.
And now Finn was trusting him with his death.
No. No, please, gods, no.
The magic lashed at him, a thousand barbed chains yanking him deeper into the beast. His body was not his own. The fire in his throat gathered, ready to reduce Finn to nothing.
Move. Fight. Stop this.
But the dragon was stronger. His body would not listen.
Finn didn’t cower beneath Cedric’s claws. He didn’t look away. He met Cedric’s gaze with bloodshot eyes, ready for whatever might come. Then he lifted a filthy, bloodstained hand and rested it on Cedric’s claw. Warm and intimate, a sign of love.
The dragon flinched.
It was enough. Cedric took it. He wrenched at the curse that had bound him. He clawed for himself, for Finn, for his own damn soul. The fire in his throat guttered out. His talons lifted.
A ragged snarl tore from his chest, and he staggered back. The chains of magic screeched against him, yanking him toward obedience.
Beneath him, Finn stirred. “Cedric?” His voice was pained but alive.
And gods, Cedric had never wanted anything more than to keep it that way. The magic roared in protest, sinking hooks into his bones. The beast was still there, waiting to take control again.
Cedric shrank back another step.
I have to leave. Now.
Because if he stayed, he would not win this fight twice.
“What’s wrong, beast?” Darius again. A pause, then a slow, taunting smirk. “Kill him, or I’ll make you watch what I do to him instead.”
Cedric’s body went rigid, head swinging toward the royal box. For a single heartbeat, Finn thought Cedric might lunge at Darius instead. That the dragon would tear through the stands, raze the king’s gilded throne to ruin, end this madness. But he didn’t.
Cedric’s gaze drifted back to Finn.
Finn shut his eyes. Whatever hold Darius had on Cedric, it was too much. Stronger than Cedric’s heart and soul. He had tried.
But Cedric was slipping away again.
The corners of Finn’s eyes burned with tears, and he didn’t know if they were for himself, Cedric, or losing what they could have been. Maybe all of it.
He remembered the feel of Cedric against him that night in the stable, soft, warm, and right. The way the prince had resisted, terrified of wanting, and then the way he had finally given himself up. Not because he’d been forced, not because he’d lost, but because he had felt safe.
Trembling, Finn’s eyes flashed open. His body was wrecked. Every muscle ached. His arms trembled from holding a shield that was long gone. He had no strength left.
Finn was done.
His gaze met Cedric’s…and his breath caught. There was true recognition in those eyes again. Pain. Anguish.
And beneath it all, a desperate, clinging love.
Cedric was himself for the moment. But what could they do? A knight and a dragon, outnumbered.
Outmatched.
Already, Finn glimpsed guards preparing to enter the arena at Darius’s behest. Then he and Cedric would both die, and this would all be for nothing.
And Darius wasn’t going to let them die quickly.
Finn’s blood went cold. His head tipped back against the sand, staring up at the sky. If Cedric didn’t kill him now, Darius would use him as a knife to carve the prince apart.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“You said I was yours,” Finn rasped, forcing the words through the raw ruin of his throat. “Then take me, Cedric. But don’t let him have me. Not again.”
He shut his eyes. If this was the end, let it be Cedric.
Not Darius. Not torture. Just…Cedric. Just him. Just them.
When nothing happened, Finn’s lashes fluttered open again. Cedric—his dragon—stared at him, then shook his head. No. A human gesture. A refusal.
Why? Didn’t Cedric see? Didn’t he understand?
The arena doors groaned open. Spears glinted as guards raced in. Finn’s head thumped back into the sand, resigned.
“Cedric, please. If you love me, don’t let me go back.” Finn squeezed his eyes shut. A sob lodged somewhere deep in his chest. His hands curled into useless fists in the sand.
A sound rumbled from Cedric’s chest—a low, broken rumble that rattled through the marrow of Finn’s bones. He smiled, though his eyes burned from the grit and unshed tears.
He let go. Relaxed into it. Cedric would make it quick. Painless.
Scales rattled with sudden movement. Claws curled around him. Not piercing. Not crushing. Holding him.
Finn’s eyes snapped open.
The ground lurched.
Powerful wings snapped open, kicking up a whirlwind of dust as Cedric launched them skyward.
“What?” The word tore from his throat, choked and disbelieving.
Screams of panic in the distance. Below them, the arena shrank into nothing. The spears, the guards, Darius’s cruelty—everything was left behind.
Cedric’s grip was tight around him, his heartbeat a thundering drum beneath Finn’s cheek. But he was careful, so very careful, as if Finn was something precious.
Finn turned his face into Cedric’s scales, exhaling a shuddering breath.
Cedric hadn’t been his end after all.