Page 43 of The Heir's Bargain

"No, not about the general. Tell me that you and a certain prince are not, you know. . .a thing."

"How did—where did—" I tripped on my words.

"So it is true!" Sylvia shouted, causing a few of the soldiers to look our way.

I pulled them to the side, away from the crowd. "Do you have to be so loud about it?"

Sylvia scoffed. "Did the prince really take you to the concert hall?"

"Yes," I said, leaning away from them.

"Wow," Sylvia said. "I'm shocked you let him. That's like his whole thing."

"What whole thing?"

With their arms crossed over their chest, Sylvia gawked at me. "Are you that daft? I thought you two were close or something."

"We are," I said, straightening beneath Sylvia's scrutiny.

"You're not that close if you don't know."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

I was thirteen when Fynn started loosely courting women and started talking about his dalliances with them. Where they went, who he went with, what they did or talked about—and more often, how they didn't talk.

At first, I couldn't help but listen. Perhaps I was curious about what I needed to do to gain his interest. Back then, our two-year age difference felt like a generation splitting us apart. I had made myself believe it was better to be his friend than not be in his life at all—even if that meant he would only ever see me as one of the guys. But then my jealousy grew.

Soon, I found excuses to slip out during those conversations—an extra study session or an early dinner with my grandparents I had forgotten about.

Eventually, leaving when the conversation came up became normal. As we grew older, I found more and more reasons to separate myself from Fynn.

I had thought it was for the best. I had seen how Rosalina or one of his other partners would look at me. I didn't want to face the questions that were bound to follow if I stayed around.

I was still in Fynn's life, but I was no longer an active part of it. He was still one of my best friends, but our relationship was tied to our history rather than our present.

Maybe Sylvia was right.

Maybe I wasn't as close to Fynn as I had thought.

Still, I needed to know what Sylvia was talking about.

I grabbed Sylvia's wrist, dragging them away from the crowd. "Sylvia, what thing?"

Sylvia sighed. "Fynn's a nice guy, and I'm sure he'll be a decent king. But he's not like. . . a good guy, you know?"

"No, I don't know. Out with it already, Sylv."

Sylvia sighed. They rubbed a hand over their pale, freckle-covered face. "The whole kingdom knows that the prince gets around."

My hand fell from Sylvia's wrist, the tension releasing despite the pang of jealousy sprouting.

This was not news.

Fynn always brought a different woman to events. A couple of times, he ended up leaving with a different woman on his arm than the one whom he came with. But based on Sylvia's concerned gaze and the purse of their lips, I knew there had to be something they weren't saying.

"How does this have to do with me going to the concert hall?"

Sylvia sighed and grabbed one of my shoulders. "I'm telling you this because I care about you as a friend, all right?"

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