He wanted to check. Just one look. But there was no time.
They reached the end of the passage, slipping out into the stables proper. A lantern hung near the main entrance, illuminating the rows of stalls.
Cedric’s breath hitched. This was it. They were inside. The courtyard lay beyond, silent; the castle looming ahead like a specter. Keeping low, Cedric led the way, slipping from shadow to shadow as they made their way toward the entrance to the dungeons.
As they neared their destination, a new problem presented itself. A jailer sat at a small table just inside the dungeon entrance, his boots propped up on the edge, picking at his teeth with a fingernail. A heavy ring of keys dangled from his belt, swaying as he shifted.
Cedric’s jaw tightened. They were so close. But without those keys, they might as well have been miles away from Finn.
“We need to get those keys,” Gwenna whispered.
Cedric nodded, his mind already racing. Brute force wasn’t an option. They couldn’t risk a struggle, not when guards could patrol just beyond sight. He and Gwenna were vastly outnumbered.
“I have an idea,” he murmured, the beginnings of a plan taking shape. “But it’s going to require some teamwork.” He quickly outlined his plan to Gwenna.
Her eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Now that sounds promising.” She grinned, already reaching into her pack. “And as it happens, I have just the thing to help.” She pulled out a small vial and held it up.
Cedric arched a brow. “And that is…?”
“A little something I picked up in the markets of Duskridge,” Gwenna said smugly. “A valerian tincture. It should knock him out long enough for us to do what we need to do.”
Cedric didn’t ask why she had such a thing in her possession. He had long ago learned not to question where Gwenna acquired her tricks. Instead, he nodded and moved into position to do his part.
On the far side of the courtyard, he reached for a precarious stack of crates and gave them a shove. They toppled with a tremendous crash, the sound ricocheting off the stone walls.
The jailer jerked upright, his boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
“Who’s there?” he called, already fumbling for the sword at his hip.
Cedric melted into the shadows, hardly daring to breathe.
While the jailer squinted into the darkness, muttering curses about stray cats and incompetent servants, Gwenna slipped behind him.
Silent as a breath, she reached for his mug. Not to take it—but to add to it.
Cedric held his breath, watching as she tilted the vial toward it, letting the liquid pour seamlessly into the ale. Gwenna picked up the mug, giving it a swirl. Then, just as quickly, she retreated, leaving the mug exactly where it had been.
Cedric waited as the man grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.
Then the jailer reached for the mug, lifted it to his lips, and took a deep swig.
They waited, pressed into the shadows, watching. The effect wasn’t immediate, but within minutes, the jailer’s head bobbed once, twice, before he slumped forward onto the table, snoring softly.
“Good work,” Cedric whispered as they approached. Gwenna gave an ironic curtsy, then quickly snatched the keys from the sleeping man’s belt. Meanwhile, Cedric rifled through the stack of papers spread haphazardly across the table. The ink was smudged in places, but the names listed in the ledger sent a fresh wave of anger through him.
So many names he recognized. People who had once stood by his parents. Nobles, yes, but many common folk—bakers, cobblers, merchants. Farmers who had dared to voice dissent. His gaze skimmed lower, and his breath caught. Some of these names…they weren’t just Lunarethan.
Revendarian.
The realization sent a jolt through him. He had known Darius was turning the kingdom inward, isolating it, but this? These weren’t just political prisoners. They were refugees. People whose only crime was crossing the border.
His stomach twisted. These were people his parents might have once granted sanctuary. People who had fled their own lands, only to find Lunareth’s mercy had died with its former king.
Then his gaze snagged on a name.
Finnian Brightmoor.
Cedric’s fingers clenched around the parchment.
