Page 118 of The Heir's Bargain

My brows quivered. Twisting my fingers together, I said, "I would have told you if I had known."

Fynn rubbed his palms over his face. "That is not the truth, and you know it."

"Yes, it is," I hissed, though I didn't believe the words I spoke aloud. "I was trying to protect you."

Fynn scoffed. "You thought you were protecting me?"

"Yes," I said, and for the first time since Fynn had found out about the mission, I looked at him—really looked at him. His countenance was painted with pain, his brows drawn together, and his hair ragged from his fingers running through it.

The truth was a burden, and I would not have wanted to burden Fynn with it—not this time, not unless I absolutely needed to. When it came to the Bull King, the less Fynn knew, the better.

At least, that’s what I had thought. A part of me still did.

"The truth, Fynn." I took a step forward. "Are you mad at me because I didn't tell you, or are you mad that I was chosen to go?"

His lips parted, but no words came out.

I had my answer.

"What is the difference if it was me or someone else, Fynn?"

"Because, Dani!" Fynn dug his fingers into his hair. "That—that man has taken too much from me already. I cannot—" Fynn groaned, and the charming prince with smooth, sweet words disappeared before me.

Fynn was scared, and he was finally showing it.

While I could understand his fear, I would not let his fear deter me.

"I am not your sister, Fynn. I am not being taken against my will. We are not even going to Ardentol."

"It doesn't matter if you are going to the castle or not! Pontia was supposed to be the safest kingdom in Vaneria, yet we were still attacked! My sister was taken from us all because we weren't quick enough or strong enough. How am I supposed to protect you from him if he somehow discovers that a group of Pontians have been sent south?" He shook his head, stumbling over his words. "This isn't—you can't?—"

And it was the sound of those two words that washed away any conflict in my mind. I no longer cared if I hurt his feelings. I was a warrior, and Fynn would do well to remember that.

"You may be the Crown Prince, but you do not tell me what I can or cannot do, Fynneares." I took a step forward. My heart beat faster and faster, but my voice was ice-cold and steady. "This is the job. My orders have already been given, and they come directly from the commander and the queen. At the end of the day, our lives—my life means nothing when it comes to protecting Pontia. When I joined, I made a vow to protect this kingdom at whatever cost."

"A vow?" Fynn's jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. His hands fell from his hair, the blood rushing from his face. "What is a vow compared to your life, Dani?"

When I spoke, my voice was steadfast, unwavering. "It is everything."

Once again, his mouth fell open, yet he didn’t utter a word.

But I was done waiting for other people to make their judgments about my choices.

I pushed my shoulders back. "I am not a queen, Fynn."

His face twisted with confusion, deep wrinkles creasing his forehead. "How does that—that doesn't?—"

I shook my head, lifting a hand and silencing him. "I am neither a queen nor a princess. I am a soldier. I love this kingdom. I love my family and friends. It is my home, and I will do anything and everything I can to protect it."

"You are more important than a mission, Dani." Fynn took a step forward. Only a foot or two separated us, yet it felt like a mile stretched between us.

He reached out a hand as if he wished to console me, but I did not wish to be consoled. I didn't need to be consoled.

My lip curled. "You don't get it. You're not a soldier."

His hand, having dropped to his side, rolled into a ball, his knuckles blanching. "But I am a servant to this kingdom. I know about sacrificing your life—your dreams, your wants—for the kingdom."

I scoffed. He still didn't get it, but I was beginning to think he never would.

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