Page 122 of The Heir's Bargain

Therefore, it didn't matter if Dani's upcoming mission was only for the purpose of gaining more information.

It didn't matter if Dani was one of the strongest people I knew.

One needed more than strength to outwit a man who had been able to slither past Pontia's defenses and discover where my family was without raising a single warning bell.

Yet Dani had brushed away my concerns, claiming it was her duty to go.

I knew about obligations. But more importantly, I knew all about failing them.

And perhaps that's where my problem lay.

As a child, I thought the title of prince granted me access to everything I wanted. I slacked off on my training because I didn't think it was worthwhile. The crown was all the protection I needed.

Or so I had thought.

When we were attacked, some of that changed. But in some ways, the ignorance and carelessness only grew worse.

As a teenager, I let my title open doors for me. I fell into bed with women because they wanted me for my name, my body, and little else. I had thought that was something to be proud of. I was wanted. I was useful.

For a while, that's all I cared about—to be wanted while drowning between the sheets of whichever woman occupied my bed for the night.

In recent years, though, the charade grew more exhausting than it was worth.

Then came the deal.

When Dani said she had never been courted, I had made it my mission to court her properly. I always thought that the formalities of courtships were futile and obnoxious, filled with clichés and superficial thoughts. I had never realized it could be fun, though. That it could be filled with so much laughter.

I had never realized that seeing the flash of someone's smile could twist my heart and paralyze me.

Until Dani, that is.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when Dani had crossed the line from being a friend to being something more. I didn't even know what that more was. All I knew was the pain spiking in my chest.

I wasn't angry at Dani. I was simply. . .numb. My body, my mind, my soul.

I didn't want my mother's gentle words, nor did I deserve them. So even though she called after me, I continued forward.

But the gods did not seem to care about what I wanted because as my palm landed on the railing, light footsteps echoed in the hall, growing louder and louder.

"I thought that was you," my mother said.

I swallowed, trying to force the heartache back down my throat as my fingers curled around the railing.

"How was the dinner?" my mother asked.

A beat of silence passed, my vocal cords continuing to fail me.

She stepped closer. When she spoke next, her tone shifted in the only way a mother's voice could, "Fynneares?" Her hand fell atop mine, and my fingers tightened around the railing as my head spun.

I slipped my hand from beneath hers. "I'm tired, Mother."

My foot hit the first step, but that's as far as I got before her delicate fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me.

"Do not walk away from me," she said, not as a queen but as a mother worried for her son.

My shoulders sagged, but I relented and turned around.

"What happened?" she asked.

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