Finn squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to argue, to fight him on this. Cedric’s well-being mattered—of course it did. But he lacked the strength to push back. Right now, all he could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope Cedric knew what he was doing.
They were so close now. The stables were only a few paces away. Just a little further, and they’d be under cover. Finn allowed himself the smallest, most fragile sliver of hope. Maybe they would make it. Maybe…
A figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking their path.
Finn’s breath seized. Even through the dim torchlight, he recognized that stance instantly. That commanding posture, the lazy arrogance in the set of his shoulders, the gleam of calculation in his cold, dark eyes.
King Darius.
Finn’s body reacted before his mind could catch up. His legs froze, his sword hand a limp mess at his side, but he forced himself upright, alert, teeth gritted against the pain. A pitiful display, but he refused to meet Darius as anything less than a knight.
The chaos behind them faded into nothingness, muted by Darius’s presence. Finn felt Cedric go rigid beside him, his breath stilling. Gwenna tensed at his other side. But Finn couldn’t look at either of them, not now.
Because Darius’s gaze was locked on Cedric. And King Dickhead was smiling.
“Well, well,” Darius drawled, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, each syllable taunting. “What have we here? A convenient jailbreak? How cute.”
Finn hardly registered the words before he felt Cedric’s grip tighten around him. Every muscle in Finn’s battered body screamed in protest at the force holding him upright, but the pain was nothing compared to the dread curling in his gut.
“Get out of our way, Darius,” Cedric said, his voice surprisingly calm, but Finn could feel the storm raging beneath it.
Darius laughed—a hollow, mirthless sound that sent a chill through Finn’s already aching bones. “Oh, I don’t think so, old friend. You see, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”
Finn’s eyes squeezed shut. He had tried to tell Cedric in the dungeon, but had been in too much pain. You shouldn’t have come. Finn had suspected Darius’s plan to use him as bait. This only confirmed it.
“You knew,” Finn rasped, the words burning his throat. “You knew they would come for me.”
Darius’s dark eyes gleamed. “Knew? No, Sir Finnian. But I certainly hoped.” He gestured around them, at the chaos unfolding—guards struggling to control the flood of prisoners, the clash of steel ringing in the distance. “When a loyal knight like yourself returned empty-handed, I had a feeling it was for good reason. And now, thanks to your unwavering sense of honor and your misplaced love, you’ve led my lost princess and the prince’s ghost right to me.”
Finn trembled, the knowledge cutting deeper than any wound the royal torturer had carved into him. This is my fault.
“You couldn’t have known,” Cedric whispered
Finn blinked. Wait. Had he…? Oh. He’d said that out loud. His stomach twisted, and he let out a rough breath, trying to shove the words back where they belonged. Too late.
Cedric’s voice was far too gentle, far too forgiving.
Finn clenched his jaw, looking away. Damn it.
Finn hated that understanding tone. He didn’t deserve it. Cedric should be furious, should curse Finn for leading them into a trap. Instead, Cedric turned his focus back to Darius, and something changed in his eyes. The raw, open grief Finn had glimpsed in him before was gone, replaced with something darker, sharper. Rage.
“What have you done, Darius?” Cedric demanded, voice commanding. A prince’s voice, Finn thought. “What game are you playing?”
Darius’s smirk only deepened. “Game?” he repeated, feigning surprise. “Oh, Cedric, this is so much more than a game. This is destiny. My destiny. And you’re going to help me fulfill it.”
With an elegant flick of his wrist, he lifted his hand, letting the moonlight catch the facets of the ring gleaming on his finger. The ruby at its center pulsed—not with reflected light, but with something deeper, something wrong. A slow, rhythmic shimmer of unnatural energy.
Finn had seen magical artifacts before—his own armor, for starters—but this was different. This was wrong.
Cedric froze. Finn felt the way every part of him locked into place, his breath stalling in his throat. His golden-brown eyes went wide.
“Nice costume jewelry,” Gwenna snarled. Gods, Finn had been so focused on Darius that he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Now go flaunt it to someone who cares.”
Darius hardly spared her a glance. “I’ll get to you in time, my betrothed.” He said the word like a promise, like a threat. “But for now, I need to have words with your brother.”
He took a step forward.
Cedric flinched. A barely perceptible movement, but Finn felt it all the same. His breathing had gone shallow, as if every instinct was screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t.
