Finn’s head lolled toward him, and his gaze locked onto Cedric’s with an intensity that sent icy fingers racing down his spine. “He knows,” Finn breathed, the words trembling with urgency. “He knows about you, Cedric. Knows you’re alive.”
The world shrank to nothing but Finn’s bloodied mouth shaping those words. Darius knew. The ground beneath Cedric felt unsteady, like the entire world had shifted without his permission.
But Finn was still speaking, bloodshot eyes never leaving Cedric’s face. “I didn’t mean to tell him,” the broken knight whispered, his face contorting—not just with pain, but with something deeper. Shame. Guilt.
Whether it was the pain of torture or his own words crushing him, Cedric couldn’t tell.
He should have been furious. He should have let himself rage at the unfairness of it. But there was no anger left in him at the moment—only grief.
Only Finn, holding on by a thread.
“I know,” Cedric murmured.
He ached to touch him, to comfort him, to make this right. To smooth back his tangled hair, to feel the warmth of Finn’s skin beneath his palm—just to know he was still here.
But Finn looked so close to slipping away, so close to passing through the veil to Nivara’s domain, that Cedric was afraid to touch him at all. He dragged his gaze to Gwenna.
She swallowed, glancing between them before kneeling beside Finn, pulling something from her satchel. “I have a draught for pain.”
Finn nodded, but Cedric saw the way his body sagged forward, as though even holding himself upright had become unbearable. Cedric clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.
Gwenna worked carefully, tilting Finn’s head and pressing the vial to his lips. He drank, his throat moving with difficulty, but he finished it. She set the empty vial aside.
Finn looked a little more at ease now. Which, given his condition, meant almost nothing. Cedric took the risk, resting a hand on Finn’s shoulder. Beneath his palm, bone and bruised muscle tensed.
“We need to get you out of here.” His voice was low but firm. “Can you move?”
Finn’s gaze lifted to his. And gods—the agony in those eyes. “I don’t know.”
Three words. They shattered Cedric all over again.
His fingers flexed, as if he could help Finn with touch alone. But they couldn’t stay here. Another few hours, and Finn wouldn’t survive this dungeon, let alone the executioner’s block. “Darius plans to execute you at dawn.”
Finn shut his eyes. “I know,” he whispered. His brows furrowed, pain twisting his expression. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Cedric pressed his lips together, glancing at Gwenna. Was Finn just disoriented from pain? From exhaustion? Or was there something else?
He was so damn insistent.
But it didn’t matter. Cedric wasn’t leaving without him. He shook his head. “It’s a little late for that. We’re here, and we’re getting you out.”
He shifted to ease one of Finn’s arms around his shoulders, then carefully helped the knight rise from the ground, mindful of his mangled hand.
“How are we going to get him out of here without being caught?” Gwenna whispered, moving in to help.
Cedric’s lips pursed, already calculating. The draught was helping—Finn’s breath was no longer as labored, and some of the tension had left his frame—but he was still weak. Too weak to move fast. And time—they needed time.
If Cedric could just get Finn outside the city, somewhere secluded, he could fly him to safety at dawn. But that was still at least two hours away. Even if they got Finn out of the dungeons, where could they hide him until then?
His mind worked furiously, piecing through their options until he remembered the ledger he had seen earlier.
“The key,” Cedric hissed suddenly. With his free hand, he slipped it out of his pocket and thrust it at his sister. “Free the other prisoners.”
Gwenna’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “What?”
Cedric’s stomach churned, but he was sure of this. “They’re political prisoners. Many are refugees,” he whispered. “Not criminals. They’ve crossed Darius, somehow. And he’s making them suffer.”
Gwenna let out a quiet but vicious curse. He felt her hesitation—there was risk in this, so much risk—but then her lips pressed into a hard line, and she nodded. “You’re probably right. Okay. I’ll get to work.”
