Page 32 of The Heir's Bargain

Nearby, someone cleared their throat as the glow of the sun disappeared behind my eyelids. I didn't need to peel my hands away from my face to see who it was, but I did so anyway.

Dark, shaded brown eyes blinked at me through a halo of chestnut brown hair. And at the bottom of Fynn's face, there it was—that cocky smirk and stubborn dimple shining down at me, as wide and as clear as the blue skies behind him.

"Is this what you look like flat on your back, Ferrios?" Fynn whispered. "I should store it in the back of my mind for safekeeping."

I glared at him. Perhaps, years ago, I would have blushed bright red hearing those words. But if there was any coloring tinting my cheeks now, it was only from anger.

"You know, in case someone ever asks." He winked and offered me a hand.

"As if anyone would ever ask that." I slapped his hand away and pushed myself off the ground, groaning slightly.

"General," Fynn said over his shoulder. "Do you mind if I borrow Captain Ferrios for a moment?"

"Wait, no, I have?—"

Fynn arched a brow.

"The rules?" I mouthed. This was not a good sign. This directly interfered with my training, which was rule number one.

But before I could disagree any further, General Walen tipped his head. "Of course not, Your Highness."

I looked back at Sylvia, who was no help as they stared at Fynn with curiosity freckling their cheeks.

"Lead the way, Your Highness." I rolled my eyes and followed Fynn off the mat and away from the rest of the soldiers.

We walked for a couple of minutes until there were no prying ears in hearing distance.

Fynn turned to his guards. "Give us a moment, will you?"

The two guards raised a brow in unison as they sent cursory glances in my direction.

I propped a hand on my hip. "Come on, boys. What am I going to do? Stab him?"

Lance, the younger of the two guards, scratched the back of his neck, shrugging. Lance was six or seven years older than me. When I was a private, he had been the captain of my company before he had been tapped to join the prince's royal guard. Several years had passed since then, but I was only marginally less lethal with a blade back then.

With an exasperated sigh, Fynn brushed a hand through his hair, the waves flowing back. "She's not going to hurt me. You saw her get knocked flat on her back a moment ago, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"Very well, sir," Lance said, holding back a snicker. Then, he and Telis, the quieter and more seasoned guard, nodded and walked out of earshot.

Folding my arms over my chest, I turned my attention to Fynn. "I was distracted."

Fynn chuckled. "Oh, about what?"

My gaze narrowed on his smirk, and I wondered how long he had been watching. However, we were not here to discuss my failures.

"Are you going to tell me what was so important that you needed to interrupt my training?"

Fynn inspected the peonies in the garden beside him, his long fingers brushing over one of the pink petals. "We should make the announcement. We cannot keep delaying this?—"

"I'm not delaying anything," I said, quickly interrupting—too quickly, based on Fynn’s raised brow. I cleared my throat. "You've been busy."

Instead of pointing out the lie we both knew I spoke, he stared at me.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and peered at the crowd of soldiers who continued fighting on the mat. "Do we need to do this right now?"

Fynn snorted and shook his head. "Gods, no. We need to do this right. I can't just say that I am courting you. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not? When Sylvia started courting Riana, they didn't make a whole show of it."

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