She darted toward the cells lining the corridor, sinking the key into the first lock. Cedric caught the disbelieving gasp as someone whispered, “Princess.” He winced. He hadn’t accounted for that. If word got out that both lost royals were here, they were as good as dead.
But there was no stopping now. The flood had started.
As Gwenna worked, prisoners poured from their cells, silent but desperate—a wave of the forgotten, the wrongly punished, the innocent who had suffered under Darius’s rule. Cedric tightened his hold on Finn, bracing the knight against his side as the others streamed past.
None of them stopped. None of them looked too closely at Cedric, and he was fine with that. Let them think whatever they want. Just let them run far, far away.
Every few steps, Cedric adjusted his grip on Finn, his own muscles burning under the weight. “We’re almost out,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Finn or himself.
Step by step, they climbed. Step by step, they left the dungeon behind. Cedric couldn’t think past the single driving command pulsing in his skull.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
And when they did—when the night air hit them and the shouts of confusion rang through the dungeon below—Cedric knew the escape was far from over.
But for the first time, the world felt just a little wider. The first real breath of hope.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The world was a haze of pain and confusion as Finn stumbled out of the dungeon, his body a ruined thing held together only by Cedric’s tender grip. Every step sent daggers of fire through his ribs, his breath shallow and ragged. His legs barely functioned, as though they belonged to someone else entirely. The uneven stone beneath his feet might as well have been shifting sand. He didn’t know how he was still moving, only that Cedric was keeping him upright, and that had to be enough.
Through the fog of agony, one truth shone with aching clarity—Cedric had come for him.
Finn didn’t understand it. Couldn’t fathom why. Cedric should have let him rot down there. That would have been the wise thing, the safe thing. Instead, here Cedric was, risking everything.
The cool night air hit Finn’s face like a blast, shocking after the stifling warmth of the dungeon. Or maybe he was just feverish from all of his injuries. He gasped, lungs seizing, body rebelling against the sudden shift. The world outside—the real world—was overwhelming.
Chaos churned in every direction.
Prisoners spilled from the dungeon entrance, their hoarse shouts splitting the air, some ragged with desperation, others lifted in exultation. Shadows flailed against torchlight as men and women ran, some breaking toward the palace walls, others ducking for cover wherever they could. Guards scrambled, trying to contain the surge of fleeing bodies, but they were so few against the tide. Someone tackled a guard to the ground. Another snatched up a fallen sword. The din of combat echoed against the stone walls of the palace courtyard.
Finn swayed, vaguely aware of his own faltering steps. The pain blurred the edges of his vision, turned everything into unfocused shapes and streaks of color. He was slipping—too much, too fast.
“Stay with me, Finn,” Cedric’s voice cut through the haze.
Finn forced himself to nod, teeth gritted against the agony lancing through his skull. Keep moving. That was all he had to do. Just keep moving. But even as he fought to focus, his senses felt distant and unreliable.
His fevered mind caught on fleeting glimpses of familiar faces—fellow knights, merchants, nobles—people he had once known. Their features blurred together. He had no idea how any of them had ended up here. Had Darius done this? Had the kingdom always been rotting from within, and Finn had simply been too blind to see it?
None of it mattered. Not right now.
“Where…where are we going?” Finn didn’t recognize the gravelly sound of his own voice.
“The stables,” Cedric murmured, his grip tightening around Finn’s waist, supporting more of his weight. “Then we’ll find a safe place to rest.”
Gwenna appeared on Finn’s other side, looping his arm over her shoulder to help. Finn let them take the burden without protest, his strength waning fast.
“Should we steal some horses?” Gwenna asked, breathless from running.
Cedric shook his head. “Finn’s in no condition to ride. Our best chance is for me to…to transform. I can carry you both to safety.”
Finn’s gut twisted—not just with pain, but with fear.
“Cedric, no,” he protested. “You’ll be seen…” His thoughts spiraled in frantic disarray. Darius knew. He knew about Cedric, about the dragon. And yet Cedric had come here anyway. By Kavros’s anvil, what were you thinking?
He wanted to shake Cedric, to demand why he had thrown himself into the fire for someone like Finn. But even as the thought formed, another followed, quieter and sharper—I’m glad he did.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cedric said, his voice fierce. “Getting you two to safety is all that matters now.”
