Page 123 of The Heir's Bargain

I leaned against the railing, the post digging into the middle of my back. "Does it matter?"

My mother's brows twisted together, light blue eyes dripping with concern. "Of course, it matters."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, willing the pain to spike somewhere else—anywhere else but my shattering heart.

My mother quirked a brow.

"Dani and I. . ." I released a heavy sigh. "We got into a fight."

She nodded as if she had expected this, as if this was the only possible outcome of any of my courtships.

Was this why everyone close to me kept their shields up? Were they all hiding their true thoughts about my ability to care for someone other than myself? Did none of them believe in me?

I took a step backward and up the steps. "I don't want to hear it, Mother."

"Hear what?" My mother pressed a delicate hand against her chest, feigning ignorance, as if both of us didn't already know what she was thinking.

I cocked my head to the side. "The 'I told you so' or the 'you should have planned for this.' Come on, Mother. Let's hear it. Let's hear how your son, the Crown Prince, has once again disappointed you."

She stepped forward, the silk fabric of her silver dress sweeping across the floor. "Now, why would I say that?"

My fingers curled around the railing, my knuckles blanching, as I said, "Because it's what you always say when I do something disappointing. By now, you should be used to it. I may be the Crown Prince, but I am an even bigger disappointment."

My mother pressed both hands to my cheeks, tilting my face down. Her fingers were soft against the scruff on my jawline. "Fynneares, you are not a disappointment. If your father could hear you now?—"

I jerked away, and her hands fell. "Father isn't here though, is he?"

My mother's jaw ticked, and water glistened over her sea-blue eyes.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing as I rubbed my palms across my face. "I didn't—I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to say that."

My mother tapped a hand against my cheek. When I opened my eyes, she offered me a small, sad smile. Pain still lingered in her gaze, but the anger I had expected was nowhere to be seen.

"Son, I have been through my fair share of heartaches to know not to take anyone's words to heart when they are hurting. Your grandmother has heard more than her fair share of painful words from me, no doubt. But?—"

Here it comes, I thought to myself, the moment I’ve been waiting for—when my mother passes on her wisdom while simultaneously proving to me yet again that I do not deserve the title I was given months ago.

My mother inhaled. "Stop those thoughts, Fynneares. I may not have your gift, but I have known you for your entire life. I can see it when the self-doubt creeps in and you begin questioning your self-worth and ability to lead."

I stared at the ceiling, at the depiction of the summer sky splayed across the sprawling space. It was meant to give the illusion that the sky was within reach, that our limits were endless, even within the boundaries of the castle's walls.

Or at least that's what I had once thought as a child.

Now, I saw it for what it was: a farce—a mirage.

"I am no king, Mother," I whispered at last.

"As you have said time and time again, but one day, you will be. You and Danisinia have been friends since you were children, I am sure?—"

"This is different," I said, interrupting.

Her mouth flattened as she looked up at me. "It might feel that way now, but it will pass."

My head fell, the weight of tonight becoming too heavy to carry on my shoulders any longer. The soft chestnut waves fell in front of my eyes, shielding me from the world around me, but its halo cocooning me could do little to protect me from the thoughts within.

My mother placed a hand on my shoulder. Tears stung my eyes, and for the first time all night, I let them fall.

The tears I shed rolled down my face, falling down the contours of my cheeks and chin, not in a torrent, but rather painstakingly slow. The adrenaline coursing through my veins when I stormed into Dani's childhood home was long gone. Without it, everything felt too heavy, too slow, too weighted. Each tear that slipped from the corner of my eye and left a slim trail of water on my face was more painful than the last.

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