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.
Chapter Thirteen
Finn was not about to let a goat have the last word.
Clarence had bested him once today, but Finn still had his dignity. (Well, some of it.) Which was why, after dinner, he pushed back from the table and stretched, giving Cedric a pointed look. “I’ll help you fix the fence.”
Cedric quirked a brow, clearly amused. “Will you?”
