Page 19 of The Heir's Bargain

"So, you're going to sabotage all the suitors your mother lines up for you?" Sylvia asked.

I smiled over my glass. "That's the plan."

"But what if there's someone you like? What if some of the men your mother chooses are suitable options?"

"Doubtful."

"You're not even going to give them a chance?" Terin asked.

I shrugged. "Pontia isn't that big. At least, the area in which she's probably searching. I know my mother. She's going to want to find someone whose family is close by. That's how she picked Sawyer and Xander's wives. Ambrosia and Vera's families are no more than a half of a day's journey away. She will want the same for whomever she plans to set me up with. Someone with strong morals and a good standing in society. Someone who will make a good father and put their family first." I lifted the glass to my lips and mumbled, "Since, according to her, that is not in my nature."

"She's not wrong," Fynn said.

I straightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fynn arched a brow but kept his gaze on the stars. "You're not the most gentle or soft-handed person in the world, Ferrios."

"I'm sorry, but when have soft hands and a gentle voice ever gotten anything done? If I want to become general sooner than later, I need my soldiers to respect me. Gentleness gets me nowhere."

"I disagree. You do not need to be an aggressive warrior to earn someone's respect."

"Fynn's right," Sylvia said. "My mother is terrifying, and she's only a painter."

Fynn waved a hand as if one measly example proved his point. "Second, is it such a bad thing that your mother wants you to be happy?"

With a look of incredulity, I lowered the glass and peered at Fynn. "A man isn't going to make me happy."

"Do men really make anyone happy?" Sylvia asked.

"Hey!" the men shouted.

"Oh, shut it," I said. "My point is a marriage won’t make me happy—a promotion will. However, it seems that is not enough to appease my mother or the leadership. I need to appear more 'family-oriented.' It's bullshit if you ask me."

"Well, we didn't," Graeson mumbled.

"Anyway," I said, ignoring the grouch. "The pool of suitors is not going to be big, nor will it be worth my time. Do you know how many men are viable options that will meet my mother's high standards?"

Moris snorted. "She might as well set you up with Terin or Fynn at that point."

The group burst into laughter.

"Don't even joke about that, Moris," Fynn said, his face contorting with disgust.

I couldn't agree more. Maybe a few years ago, I had dreamed of marrying Fynn or even being viewed as more than just a friend in his eyes, but those days were long gone.

Graeson was the first to head in for the night, muttering about an early training session. Sylvia, Moris, and Terin were quick to follow after him.

It was unfair, I thought as I stared up at the star-speckled sky.

No one blinked an eye at how much time Graeson dedicated to his training. Why, then, was it a problem for me when I focused on my career? When Graeson did it, he was a martyr. When I did it, I was too career-focused.

I snorted. What a ridiculous thing to hold someone back for.

"Is it, though?" Fynn asked.

Lying on the bench across from him, I propped my head up, turning on my side. "Excuse me?"

With the others gone, Fynn had taken up the entire bench, spreading his limbs across it as he lay on his back and looked at the stars. One hand hung down, his knuckles scraping the edge of the cobblestone patio. The other was draped across the back of the bench beside his jacket. His messy brown curls were spread out along the seat. A slight indentation marked his hair from the crown, which still sat precariously on his knee. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie hung loosely around his neck.

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