Page 117 of The Heir's Bargain

But now it was time to start acting.

Details of Fynn's sister were carefully guarded. Few spoke of her, and even fewer knew the details of her capture. According to the queen, her daughter was safe and alive. While this wasn't a rescue mission—not yet anyway—my father had said it would help retrieve the lost princess.

I was five when the princess was taken. Although my memories of her were sparse and quickly fading, I knew how much she meant to Fynn despite the years that had passed.

And perhaps that was why I didn't confide in him when I saw him. I knew how much this mission would mean to him if he knew the truth.

Hope, while one of the most powerful tools, was also the most dangerous.

I had no idea, however, that he was the one who had set this mission into motion.

I thought I was protecting him, but I was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

"Menides and Sorinia, dinner was delicious. Thank you. However, I must be going." Wood scraped against the floor as Fynn pushed his chair away.

Everyone around the table stood. I was the last one to do so, my legs numb and stiff.

"It was a pleasure having you, Your Highness," my mother said, offering him a small curtsy, her gaze bouncing to me for a moment.

Fynn nodded to the others and turned away, leaving the room without sparing me a glance.

My palms pressed into the wood as everyone else sat down. My heart thumped in my chest as my gaze bounced around the room, as the ghost of Fynn's handprint on my leg burned a hole through the dress my mother had picked out.

When I turned to my father, he tipped his head toward the doors. "Go," he mouthed.

I didn't hesitate. The stiff fabric of my dress wrapped around the chair, tugging it with me. The legs scraped the floor, and my mother gasped in horror.

"Sorry," I mumbled, quickly righting the chair before flying out the door. A sea of pink fabric chased me as my heels struck the floor.

When I turned out of the dining room, Fynn was already halfway to the door, his usual swagger long gone and his back rigid. I sped up, my footsteps quick across the freshly polished floors as I chased after him.

"Fynn, wait!" I grabbed his arm, but he shook my hand off and continued for the door. "Let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain, Dani," he said, his voice even, flat. Cold.

Pain pierced my gut, but I wouldn't let it stop me from reaching out again. "Fynn, please." I reached for his hand, my fingers brushing against it.

Yet he snatched his hand away. Stopping, he spun around so abruptly that I almost smacked into his back, barely catching myself before running into him.

"Fine," he said.

"I—" My tongue twisted, the words suddenly becoming too heavy to say aloud. I averted my gaze, unable to look Fynn in the eye. I glanced at the hall leading to the dining room, where everyone else still chatted and laughed the night away.

In a matter of minutes, I had ruined everything.

Fynn.

The promotion.

Everything.

He sighed, and the noise was full of all the words unspoken between us. He tugged me into the nearby sitting room and shut the door behind him. The last time I stepped into this room was when my mother had filled it with eager suitors. The room felt so small then, but now it was far too big and the air too stiff. The sun slipped in between the cracks of the curtain, yet despite the golden hue it cast, there was nothing golden about this moment.

Fynn crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's talk then. Dani. Were you going to tell me about the mission?"

As Fynn stared at me for a moment, time ticked by at a sluggish pace. I couldn’t rewind time. I couldn’t go back and tell him the truth the moment I saw him. And in seconds that ticked by, a heavy silence grew between us.

Until Fynn cut through it like a knife with three words: "The truth, Dani."

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