Page 48 of The Heir's Bargain

"Whatever one does?"

"Mhm," I mumbled, twisting the blade in my hand. I sensed Fynn's gaze, but I continued studying the sword.

"Dani, when was the last time you were courted?"

A prickle shot through the back of my neck when I met his gaze at last, his head cocked to the side.

"I—" My tongue grew heavy as I placed the sword back on the rack.

I might have slept with several people, but none of them were a result of a serious relationship. For me, intimacy was about attraction and chemistry. A courtship never mattered. Never having officially courted someone never bothered me before.

Until, that is, amusement peppered Fynn's countenance.

"Do you mean to suggest that you have never been courted?"

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I dug my nails into the flesh of my palms. "Get out of my head, Fynneares."

"Ha! See, that's how I know I'm right." He leaned forward, the crisp scent of the ocean breeze surrounding me. With a finger, he poked the side of my head. "I don't need to be in your head to know when you're lying, Ferrios."

With a scoff, I flicked away his hand. "I have. There was that—that one guy. . ."

"The one who threw up on your boots, or are you referring to the second man who did that?" Fynn quirked a brow. "I'm not sure your mother's suitors count based on what you have told me about those outings."

The muscles in my jaw ticked.

"It's fine if you haven't," Fynn continued, dragging the tip of his blade through the dirt. My fingers flexed along the top of the rack as he walked in a circle around me. "I'm surprised, that's?—"

A throwing knife flew from my hand, spiraling in the air. Fynn jumped back, narrowly missing the blade. Inches from his feet, the hilt of the knife wobbled.

"Shit, Dani. What was that for?"

"You're simply lucky I can't hear your thoughts because seeing them spread across your face is more than enough."

He snatched my wrist and pulled me toward him. He tipped my chin up with a finger, and my breathing hitched in my throat. "Because of that, Ferrios, I'm going to ruin you for any future suitor."

His closeness, his words—it was all too much. The pit of my stomach stirred, and my brows drew together. My eyes bounced across his face, unsure where to look. His dark brown eyes swirling with gold, the strand of hair falling across his forehead and brushing against the top of his cheek.

Snap.

The sound of a twig cracking in half forced my attention away. Behind Fynn, Jorian walked toward us.

Fynn smirked down at me.

The fluttering in my stomach extinguished into a puff of smoke. The closeness, the gaze—it had all been a part of the charade. One we both had agreed to, I reminded myself as the jealousy rolled in my stomach.

I shook out of his hold. "I have things to do."

With each step, I ignored the lingering warmth of his touch on my face and let the breeze sweep it away.

Fynn was only pretending, but I no longer knew if I was.

Chapter 12

DANI

I twisted the mug between my hands, the dark ale sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Laughter and music filled The Splintered Oar, but tonight, I couldn't bring myself to join in it.

Since we were privates, Sylvia, Moris, and I had been coming to the tavern near the soldiers’ barracks. At the end of a hard week of training, we would head to The Splintered Oar to drink our sore muscles and fresh bruises away. Although the drinks never made the bruises disappear, and often, we would hurt more the next day than we did before we stepped foot in the tavern. Still, we kept coming.

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