No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
A thunderous roar erupted from the crowd, but Finn only heard the roar of blood rushing to his head. His fingers turned to ice around the hilt of his sword.
“Let the trial begin!”
The opposite gate groaned open. Finn whipped around, every muscle locking into place.
A massive scaled head emerged from the shadows, followed by the sinuous length of a golden neck. Sunlight struck Cedric’s scales, setting them ablaze in a gleaming display of raw power. The dragon did not hesitate. He did not resist. He charged, a force of nature given form, his wings flaring as he surged forward, the ground quaking beneath his weight.
The only thing that stopped him were the chains. Eight men strained against them, their bodies braced, their faces twisted with effort as they fought to hold him back. Even so, Cedric dragged them, talons carving deep furrows into the sand, his powerful body flexing with unchecked aggression. The iron links groaned, the enchantments woven into them flaring with arcane light to reinforce their hold. Without them, Finn knew Cedric would already be upon him.
Finn’s hope shattered as he locked eyes with the dragon before him.
There was nothing there.
No sign of recognition. No intelligence, no warmth. Just a predator with golden glowing eyes staring at its prey.
The Cedric he knew—the man—was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Finn’s heart clenched painfully in his chest as he stared across the sand at Cedric.
The dragon’s muscles rippled like a living tapestry beneath shimmering scales, straining against the enchanted chains that held him back. Cedric.
His Cedric.
The sight of him, so majestic and yet so cruelly bound, was a dagger in Finn’s heart, twisting with each heated breath the dragon took.
Finn’s grip tightened on his sword, a jolt of pain lancing through his fingers. Even healed, the bones were stiff, the ache a dull throb beneath Sunwrath’s weight. His palms were slick inside his gauntlets, sweat mingling with the ghost of old wounds. How could he do this? How could he raise his weapon against Cedric, even if the prince was currently more beast than man?
But the dragon’s golden eyes showed no signs of humanity. Instead, they fixed on him with predatory intensity, pupils narrowing to slits that seemed to pierce straight through him. A low growl thundered from Cedric’s chest, building to a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the arena, a primal challenge that echoed off the stone walls and reverberated in Finn’s bones.
His chest constricted. His mind rebelled against it, clawing for some explanation, some reason, but there was none. Why was he like this?
The ache in his chest deepened, not from his healing injuries, but from the hollow, sickening certainty settling in his bones.
It didn’t matter.
The dragon in front of him was going to kill him.
From the royal box, Darius’s voice rang out, “Begin.”
The crowd erupted. Cheers. Jeers. Roaring voices that crashed like waves against Finn’s skull. The sheer hunger in the air made his stomach lurch. This was a game to them. A spectacle. They wanted blood, and they didn’t care whose.
Darius. This was his doing. All of it.
I wish you stood before me right now, Darius. I’d drive my sword right through that black heart of yours. Even if it killed me.
But there was no time for that. No time for hate…because with a series of metallic clanks, the chains fell away. The heavy links crashed to the sand as the handlers bolted for the dragon’s antechamber.
For a heartbeat, Cedric did not move.
He crouched, muscles coiled, golden scales gleaming like a shattered sun.
Then he launched forward, a detonation of power. A shockwave of dust burst outward, blinding, the force of it nearly knocking Finn off his feet.
Move.
