Page 106 of The Heir's Bargain

"Fynn, are you attending the commander's dinner next week?" Sylvia asked.

The mug almost slipped from my hands.

Shit.

"The commander's dinner?" Fynn asked, his gaze flicking to me.

"It must have slipped my mind," I said. "It's only a casual dinner."

In these moments, I wished I was the one who could read minds. While Fynn didn't appear mad that I hadn't told him, something twisted his features.

"Don't let her fool you, Fynn," Moris said through a mouthful of peanuts. "It's only a gathering of the most important leaders in the military and their partners. Every month, they invite a few select soldiers. So, like Ferrios said, casual."

"For Fynn, that is casual," Sylvia said, rolling their eyes.

"Ah, right." Moris shoved more peanuts into his mouth. He wiped the salt from his lips with the back of his hand. "You know, sometimes I forget that you're a prince."

Fynn stiffened.

Beneath the table, I squeezed his knee (sweaty palms or not), and he relaxed.

To Moris, I said, "It's not that exciting, Moris. The leaders mainly discuss new strategies they wish to implement or some other boring topic."

"And how many have you been to, Ferrios?" Moris quipped.

"That's not a fair question. I'm the commander's daughter. Any time it's at our house, I don't have a choice but to attend."

"Well, at least you get to go," Moris mumbled, his elbow sliding on the table as he propped his head on his fist. Not a moment later, he perked up. "Anyway, this time I will be going."

"Have you received an invitation yet, Moris?" Sylvia asked, quirking a brow.

"No, but I can feel it."

"Oh, so you're a seer now."

"No, but?—"

"A seer told you then?"

"No, but I know it!" Moris slammed his mug down, sloshing ale onto the table. "And with Fynn and I there, I'm sure it'll be less boring."

"If Fynn wants to go." I looked at Fynn. "You don't have to."

"Do you want me to come?" Fynn asked, his hand falling atop mine. He drew light circles on the back of my hand.

I bit my tongue. While the dinner would be a good opportunity for the leaders to see us together, it now felt somehow wrong to use our relationship to acquire the promotion.

I made to remove my hand from beneath his, but Fynn squeezed it, stilling it.

I peered down at our joined hands. While I may not have wanted Fynn there for my own career advancement, I couldn't deny that I wanted him there.

"If you don't want me to?—"

I flipped my hand over, weaving my fingers in between his. "I do."

Fynn smiled softly before leaning back against the worn bench and pulling me closer. For once, I didn't find myself fighting him about it either.

The three of them fell into conversation again, but my mind was somewhere else, caught between the worlds of pretend and truth.

---