The journey back to the tower seemed to take an eternity. Gwenna’s legs burned from the relentless pace she set, but she didn’t dare slow down. Every rustling leaf, every snapping twig sent her heart hammering, paranoia clamping around her like an iron vice. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see torches bobbing through the trees, soldiers emerging from the mist.
By the time she reached the clearing, she was breathless and trembling.
“Cedric!” she shouted, voice raw with urgency. “Cedric, where are you?”
A deep rumble answered her. Gwenna silently cursed herself. The sun’s still up. Damn it. She clenched her jaw and stormed toward the stables, hardly sparing a glance for Clarence as the goat trotted after her. Judging by the scattered hay and the way the fence gate hung ajar, he’d orchestrated another mutiny among the goats. Typical. Another disaster for an already disastrous day.
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.
