Cedric didn’t even pause mid-swing. “And people say royalty have egos,” he commented, though a smile tugged at his lips. The hammer came down, driving the nail in with a satisfying thunk. He paused, meeting Finn’s gaze. “No, it’s because you’re one of ours. You’re of Lunareth.”
Finn blinked, thrown by the simple certainty in Cedric’s tone. You’re one of ours.
His fingers flexed against the board, gripping it a little tighter. It wasn’t what he’d expected.
“Right,” Finn said, slower this time. “I suppose that means I owe you, then.”
Cedric raised his brows, reaching for another nail. “If you’re offering…” His tone was light, but something in his eyes made Finn’s stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
Finn smirked. “Depends on what you’re asking.” Then his expression shifted. “How did you learn how to do all this? You’re a prince. Not exactly the practical sort.”
“Hold the board straight.” Cedric shot him a look. “And just because border diplomacy seldom involves planks and nails doesn’t mean it’s something we can’t learn.”
Finn winced. He hadn’t meant to offend. “I just imagine…most nobles couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t do this.”
“We had no choice, Finn. Our options were die of exposure or figure out how to survive.” Cedric shrugged, driving another nail home. “You can see which we chose.”
Finn absorbed that, his smirk fading. He looked down at the rough wood beneath his hands. Cedric wasn’t just good at this—he needed to be. He hesitated, turning the next plank over in his hands. “You and Gwenna have been out here for a decade.” The words felt strange now—too big, too real. “Meanwhile, things in Lunareth have…changed.”
“Things everywhere have changed,” Cedric corrected, though something akin to pain briefly crossed his face. “Revendar is a husk of what it once was, thanks to the Avilisian Empire and their schemes.”
“So the recluse prince keeps up with news?” Finn asked, unable to keep the note of challenge from his voice.
“Since knowledge of current events helps keep me alive, yes.” Then Cedric’s voice became little more than a whisper. “And I may be a ghost as far as Lunareth is concerned, but I still care.”
Finn’s gut lurched at that soft admission. Then why don’t you go back? Challenge King Darius the Glorious? But he sensed that was a question best left for another time. Maybe he could tease that out in a roundabout way.
“Being a knight the past few years hasn’t been easy,” Finn said as Cedric pulled another nail from the pouch at his belt. “I thought I was protecting my kingdom. That I was fighting for my people.”
His words drew Cedric’s interest. “But?”
Got you. Finn smiled. “But I’ve been wondering who I was meant to protect. Those within the kingdom, solely because they had the fortune to be born here? And use my sword to turn away those who come here to seek mercy?”
The prince went very, very still. “You would do as your king commands.” It was spoken in the most neutral manner as possible, but Finn still felt the tension thrumming below the surface.
“Someone once told me that makes me a well-dressed weapon.” Finn winked at him, hoping the flirty gesture might further throw Cedric off balance.
In response, Cedric snorted. “Sounds familiar, like I know this person.”
Finn chuckled. “Perhaps so. Anyway, those words made me think. Especially in Duskridge. Those people, those former refugees…they’re not the enemy, no matter what King Darius says.” Was it his imagination, or had Cedric nearly startled at the king’s name? Finn pretended he hadn’t noticed.
Cedric made a noncommittal sound. “We’re almost done. You holding that board or not?”
Finn squinted at Cedric as the prince focused a little too intently on hammering in the next board. Well, I’ve already poked at every other uncomfortable subject. What’s one more?
“You were friends with King Darius,” Finn observed.
Cedric’s hammer paused mid-swing. He let out a slow breath. “What passes for friends, I suppose.” His tone was uncertain. He sighed, finally driving the nail into place. “Darius was one of those people where you never quite knew where you stood.” There was something unspoken in his voice, but before Finn could press, Cedric straightened. “What made you want to be a knight?”
Finn let the shift in topic slide. “You know, the usual. Heroic tales, a deep sense of duty, an innate desire to put myself in mortal peril for questionable leadership.”
Cedric chuckled. “So, not the cloaks and fancy armor, then?”
Finn grinned. “Oh, no, that was a factor. Have you seen how dashing we look?”
Cedric rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
Finn hesitated, then gave the simplest truth. “My father was a knight.” He paused, then added, “We have a lot in common, you know. My father died the night of the dragon attack, like your parents.”
