Page 148 of The Heir's Bargain

"Fynn, I could never ask for you to do that. You care about this kingdom too much."

"I know you never would ask, for you care about this kingdom, too." I weaved my fingers into the wet curls at the back of her neck and pulled her closer, resting my forehead on hers. "Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved, Dani. I've let you slip through my hands one too many times. I do not want to lose you ever again. It's you or no one for me, Dani."

Her palms caressed my face. Her hands were shaking, her body trembling. I weaved my fingers between hers. When I leaned back and our eyes met, something snapped.

Fire erupted from my core, soaring through my veins and up my chest. It blanketed every limb, muscle, and every other part of me. A sweet, honeyed song rang throughout my body and hummed all around me.

Dani smiled. "It's always been you, Fynn," she whispered, an untamable fire roaring beneath her eyes as the thread connecting our souls wrapped around each other, stringing us together and uniting our hearts.

I leaned back and tipped her chin up. "And it always will be you."

The corners of her mouth flicked up.

"I love you."

Her voice was as solid as iron, yet her lips had not moved.

Shock ripped through me as I reached for the thread connecting her mind to mine.

Her mental shields were down—the fortress she had spent years building completely and utterly obliterated. Everything she had kept hidden from me, locked away in the safety of the farthest parts of her mind, came pouring out.

It had always been Dani. I had simply been too blind to see it, but Dani had known.

She had always known.

Chapter 42

DANI

FOUR MONTHS LATER

"Sylv, are you sure this isn't too much?" I asked, running my hand over the rough fabric that made my arms itch every time they brushed it.

"Too much of what?" Sylvia asked, fixing their hair in the mirror after the handmaidens had spent the past half hour pinning it up.

Sylvia wore an elegant lavender dress that was simple yet beautiful. Meanwhile, I was covered in layers of tulle, lace, and whatever other fabric and embellishments the royal seamstress, Everly, was forced to add at my mother’s request. The dress was beautiful—a true piece of art. It should have been displayed in some marbled hall for people to gawk at and admire—not to be walked or danced in.

However, this was my wedding. A royal wedding, my mother had reminded me time and time again. And she insisted that everything be big—including this godsforsaken dress.

Over the past four months, my mother and Esmeray had spent copious hours planning our wedding. The very moment my mother discovered Fynn and I were soul bonds, she spun into action. Even though I had opposed the extravaganza, my mother insisted. So, when I wasn't training, she forced me to attend meetings about napkins and glassware—long, tedious, tiresome meetings that seemed to have no end.

I didn't care about the minuscule details that only my mother would notice. All I cared about was placing my hand in Fynn's and his in mine as we exchanged the golden rings our parents forged from the isle off the coast.

At one point, I even tried to persuade the mothers to forgo the wedding entirely. The wedding was only a symbolic representation of the bond that connected Fynn and me. We could have exchanged the rings alone in a field of lilacs under the moon and stars. It didn't matter to me.

My mother, however, would hear none of it.

Yet when I did offer my opinion on the cutlery or the flowers, she ignored me. When I would turn to Esmeray for help, the queen looked at me with amusement and sympathy.

The queen was of no help, to say the least.

The dress was the one item on the list I was excited about, but my mother had taken that away from me, too. And now I was stuck in this giant ball of scratchy fabrics that irritated my skin.

I couldn't even see a remnant of who I was in my reflection. I picked up the heavy skirt and swished it as I looked in the mirror. The dress scratched against the hardwood floors, producing a horrendous sound.

"Too much. . .fabric, lace, diamonds?" I asked, my voice raising. "Too much of everything!"

Sylvia placed a hand on their hip, cocking their head to the side. "Dani, you are marrying a prince. What did you expect?"

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