He wrenched his hand free. The sudden absence of contact like a bruise.
Finn’s face fell. Not anger. Not rejection. Just…hurt. A flinch, quick as a spark before resolve hardened his features. “Whatever you’re hiding...whatever you’re afraid of...it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Cedric’s throat closed. How I feel about you.
The words were a lance through Cedric’s chest. He lurched away, boots scraping against grit-strewn flagstones.
You’d drive a sword through my heart if you knew.
His laugh came out brittle, edged with hysteria. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Cedric turned away, wishing in that moment to sprout his dragon wings so he could fly far away. ”You don’t know me. Not really.”
“Then let me know you—” The knight stepped forward, the plea in his voice almost undoing Cedric completely. “Cedric, please…”
But Cedric was already backing away, shaking his head, his breath coming too fast, too ragged. “I’m sorry, Finn. I truly am. But this…whatever this is between us…it can’t happen.”
It was a mercy, he told himself. A clean cut, before Finn could get any closer. Before he could figure out the truth.
Before Cedric ruined everything.
Finn’s expression twisted, as if he wanted to argue, but Cedric didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He pivoted, his boots thudding against the stone floor as he fled down the spiral staircase.
By the time he pushed through the tower’s door and into the night, he didn’t know where to go. The stars spun overhead, sharp and cold against the dark sky. He was suffocating. His skin itched with the reminder that morning would come all too soon, that the transformation would rip through him once more, shattering the fragile pieces of his humanity.
The stables.
Without thinking, he stumbled inside, pressing himself against the rough wooden wall as a strangled sound escaped his throat—half a sob, half a breath he couldn’t quite catch. Stupid. Stupid. He had let himself hope. Let himself believe, just for a moment, that there was a future where Finn could see him—all of him—and not turn away in disgust.
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if he could scrub away the memory of Finn’s warmth, the way his lips had felt right, like something Cedric had been missing his entire life.
What a fool he had been.
Because there was no future.
Not for him. Not for them.
Cedric had been lying to himself, and worse, he had strung Finn along with him, letting him believe this could be something real. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
Maybe it would have been easier if Finn had killed the dragon, just as he was meant to.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days. Two agonizing days had passed since that moment on the tower roof. Finn paced the narrow length of his small room, his mind replaying the events for what felt like the thousandth time. Cedric’s breath hitching against his lips, the faint tremor in the prince’s fingers where they’d brushed Finn’s collarbone. The memory of Cedric’s hair slipping through his grip haunted him, silken strands dissolving into empty air.
Finn dragged a hand through his own tangled hair. His frustration twisted tighter with each passing moment. He’d hardly seen Cedric since that night. The other man had become a ghost, appearing only for brief moments at mealtimes before vanishing again, as elusive as mist in the morning sun. Even when they occupied the same space, Cedric refused to meet his gaze, responding to Finn’s attempts at conversation with clipped, one-word answers.
It was maddening.
Even now, the ghost of that kiss burned. There’s so much you don’t know. Cedric’s voice echoed, hoarse and frayed at the edges, as it had that night. Finn’s gut twisted. What was he hiding? A past lover? A forced vow? A debt owed in blood? His mind chased possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last. An illness? A threat hanging over his head? Gods, was he a spy, playing some long game Finn hadn’t even begun to understand?
Finn scoffed at himself. That last thought was ridiculous, but the frustration remained. He couldn’t keep going in circles, trapped in this limbo of uncertainty and unspoken feelings. He needed answers, and he was going to get them, even if he had to drag them out of Cedric himself.
With renewed determination, Finn strode out of his room. He checked the main living area first, where he found only Gwenna, bent over an odd contraption of brass and glass that looked suspiciously like the telescope Cedric had shown him. Tools and bits of parchment cluttered the table in front of her, gears and tiny mechanisms scattered like puzzle pieces. She looked up as he entered, her sharp gaze assessing him immediately.
“Have you seen Cedric?” Finn asked, forgoing pleasantries entirely.
Gwenna sighed, setting aside a tool that looked like it belonged in a blacksmith’s forge rather than a former princess’s hands. “Finn, I don’t think?—”
“For the love of the gods, Gwenna, just let me talk to him,” Finn interrupted.
