Everything felt distant. Blurred, like an old dream that didn’t belong to him anymore.
“Cedric.” Gwenna’s voice cut through the storm of his thoughts.
He exhaled sharply, dragging his gaze from the towering silhouette of the palace to where she stood, half-hidden by a tangle of overgrown bushes.
“We’re here.” She pushed aside a mass of foliage, revealing a rusted grate set into the stone wall. It was nearly invisible beneath the creeping ivy, its metal corroded from years of neglect. The faint stench of damp earth and stagnant water clung to the air. “This leads to an old drainage tunnel,” she explained, her voice low. “It should take us right under the castle walls.”
Cedric eyed the grate warily, his pulse quickening. He hadn’t set foot inside these walls since—since then. The last time, he had been something else, someone else. His body had not been his own, his mind lost to the storm of his first transformation.
The thought of walking back into the palace made his skin crawl. Still, he forced himself to focus on the present. “How did you even know about this?”
Gwenna shot him a sideways glance, mischief glinting in her eyes despite the gravity of their situation. “I may have done some exploring in my younger days. Being a princess can be terribly boring, you know.”
Cedric shook his head, not remotely surprised. Gwenna had always been reckless, always testing the edges of her golden cage, looking for ways to slip through the bars.
She crouched and gripped the edges of the grate, straining. The rusted metal groaned but refused to budge. “It’s stuck,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Can you…?”
Cedric stepped forward automatically, bracing his hands against the grate…and froze.
A memory slammed into him, fast and brutal.
Claws screeching against stone. The tang of blood in the air. The cries of men as they died. His own breathing—ragged, wild—his heart hammering against the inside of his ribs as he lost himself to the hunger, to the heat, to the sheer, uncontrollable terror of what he had become…
“Cedric?” Gwenna’s voice pulled him back, the world shifting beneath his feet as he clawed his way out of the past. He was here. Now. Not then. She was watching him, brow furrowed with concern. “Are you all right?”
He swallowed hard. His mouth was dry. “I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice sounded brittle. Liar. “Let’s just—let’s just get this open.”
Together, they pulled at the grate. Rust flaked beneath their fingers, the metal groaning in protest, but it refused to budge. The years had sealed it shut, the elements conspiring against them.
After several frustrating minutes, Gwenna let out a sharp breath and released it. “Great. Now what?”
Cedric ran a hand through his hair. They needed another way in. And then?—
A memory stirred. A secret tucked away in the depths of his childhood. A passage he had never told Darius about. Never told anyone about.
“I know another way,” he said slowly. “It’s risky, but it might be our only option.”
Gwenna turned to him sharply. “Oh? And when were you planning on sharing this information?”
Cedric ignored the jab, his mind already working through the logistics. “There’s a hidden entrance to the royal stables. It was used in times of siege to smuggle in supplies. If it’s still there, it should get us inside the castle grounds.”
Gwenna blinked. Then her eyes narrowed. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”
“I’d forgotten about it,” Cedric admitted, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like I’ve spent the last decade reminiscing about childhood escape routes.”
Gwenna huffed, but nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They moved swiftly through the darkened streets, keeping to the narrowest alleys and the deepest shadows. Cedric’s pulse spiked as they neared the eastern side of the palace grounds, where the royal stables awaited them. Would the entrance still be there? Had it been discovered in his absence?
He reached the stand of trees shielding the hidden door and ran his hands over the weathered wood, searching. His fingers brushed against something—an indentation, a faint groove. There.
With a quiet click, the door swung open.
Gwenna arched a brow. “After you, Your Highness,” she said with a mock bow.
Cedric shot her a withering look but stepped inside first, his senses stretching into the darkness. The passage was narrow and smelled of mildew and rodents. They moved carefully, feet whispering against the packed dirt.
Memories played like torchlight on the walls. He had loved the stables once. Had spent hours here as a boy, learning to ride, brushing down his favorite horse. Sunset. A pang shot through him. Was she still here?
