Page 150 of The Heir's Bargain

"I—" My tongue twisted. Esmeray squeezed my hand, and I took a deep breath. "I wasn't sure, but I had a feeling."

Esmeray hummed in understanding. "Your instincts have always been beyond most, my dear. I am simply sorry that my son took so long to realize it himself." Water glistened in her eyes. She blinked, and it was gone.

Releasing my hand, she turned toward the vanity and picked up the tiara. "I wore this when I married Marc. His late father, a great metallurgist, crafted it."

I stared at the golden tiara shimmering in the sunlight. It was magnificent. Despite its age, the metal did not appear worn or tarnished.

"It is beautiful, Your Majesty."

Esmeray pushed the tiara forward. "It is yours."

I took a jilted step back. "I cannot possibly?—"

Esmeray shook her head, and I snapped my mouth shut. "It is a tradition in my family that the groom’s mother passes on a family heirloom to the bride to welcome them. While I do not feel that I need to welcome you into our family because you have been a part of it since the beginning, some traditions are worth keeping. May I?"

Unable to do or say anything else, I nodded.

Esmeray took a step forward and placed the tiara atop my head.

I held my breath in anticipation, but when it made contact, the tension vanished quickly. I had thought it would hurt, that the metal would feel cold, but it didn't.

Even hours later.

As it sat atop my head, pressing into my perfectly woven curls, I understood Fynn a little more.

A knock on the door pulled my attention away from the mirror. "Sylv—" I began, but I cut myself off as my gift hummed in the pit of my stomach and the soft, sweet song grew louder.

Relief washed away the tension.

"Dani?" Fynn asked from the other side of the door.

My heart thumping in my chest, I pressed my ear against the door. "What are you doing here, Fynn?"

"Sylvia said you were having some sort of"—He coughed, and I could hear the amused lilt in the noise—"meltdown?"

"I am not having a meltdown."

"But. . .?" Fynn prodded.

My shoulders sagged, the dress becoming heavier as the train turned to lead on the floor. "But I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to wear this dress."

"What's wrong with the dress?" he asked.

"It's too—ugh. It's too much."

"So you keep supposedly saying." He chuckled. I heard him shuffle on the other side of the door, his weight leaning against it. "Dani, would you do me a favor?"

"You want me to do you a favor now?" I cried out, my fingers digging into the fabric. "Seriously, Fynn? I'm in the middle of having a breakdown! Do you think now is the appropriate?—"

"I thought you weren't having a breakdown?" Fynn asked, interrupting.

I groaned.

"Go to the closet."

"What did you forget now?" My eyes rolled back, but I pushed myself away from the door. "Why do I always need to?—"

"Ferrios, please."

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