Chapter 4
”I kind of feel badfor him,” I said as I swiped the orange wedge along the rim of the glass.
”For Fynn?” Terin asked, snorting. ”Why?”
”Look at him,” I said, pointing the orange toward Fynn. ”He”s been dancing all night nonstop. That must get exhausting at some point.” I split the orange from its peel and took a bite before dropping the half-eaten wedge back into the glass.
”Let me get this straight: you pity him because he”s been bouncing from one woman to another all night?” Graeson asked, leaning against the pillar beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. The tips of his black hair brushed the pale scar running from his brow to below his cheekbone. The scar did little to soothe his features or the irritation plastered across his face. However, that annoyed expression had been a permanent mark on his countenance since we were children. And it had little to do with the scar.
Before the royal family was attacked, so much love, life, and laughter that spilled from the castle. After the attack, however, a fog coated its inhabitants. The queen”s laugh lines faded, Terin”s under eyes darkened, Graeson”s features hardened. Graeson became more solemn than usual, preferring to hide away in the shadows than talk about the darkness lurking inside him. Shadows loomed large over him wherever he went. It was only on the rare occasion when the darkness in Graeson”s silver eyes disappeared.
While he still laughed with us, the sound was tainted with a sorrow that wouldn”t disappear. He spent most days either training or obsessing over a premonition his mother had before she passed.
Terin was sweet but quiet, often preferring to slip into the background of the action.
And Fynn—well, Fynn welcomed anyone and everyone with open arms. To many, it probably seemed as if the attack didn”t change Fynn like it had the rest of the family. But when I was younger, I might have paid too much attention to the prince. After the tragedy, I had seen how a coldness lay beneath the mischief in his deep brown eyes.
Watching Fynn now, I wondered if the coldness had softened.
I hoped so. All three of the men deserved to live and be happy despite the tragedies that had befallen their family.
”Yeah, I feel terrible for the guy,” Moris said, pointing his glass in Fynn”s direction and wavering on his feet slightly.
Turning away from the prince, I rolled my eyes.
One would have never guessed Moris was a military man because of how he carried himself when he wasn”t wearing his uniform.
”A dreadful position to be in, truly,” Moris stammered.
I huffed. ”All right, but if it were me?—”
”But it”s not,” Moris said, interrupting.
I cocked a brow and started again, ”If it were me, I would get tired from the small talk after the first two or three partners. How many times can you talk about the weather?”
”If I know my brother,” Terin said, raising his glass to his lips, ”there”s no way they”re talking about the weather.”
”Then what—” I snapped my mouth shut as mischief lit Terin”s brown eyes. I forced myself to nod, ignoring the sour taste in my mouth.
”This is his day. He deserves the attention,” Terin said with a shrug.
And for that, I was grateful that the attention wasn”t on me and my lack of promotion.
”But did he have to dance with Rosalina? I thought he finally put her in the past?” Graeson asked.
I snorted. Graeson had a point, but I didn”t wish to talk about Fynn and Rosalina. Turning to Terin, I asked, ”Is it strange for you?”
”Is what strange?”
”The fact that Fynn has officially been named heir?”
”Sometimes being second isn”t all that bad. I”ve never wanted the title or the responsibility. My mother and her advisors might have debated who would be named heir for the past few years, but it was all for show. It was never going to be me.”
”You can”t mean that.”
He quirked a brow. ”Come on, Dani. Fynn has always been more outgoing than me.”
”But—”
Terin waved me off. ”Fynn is the right choice. It might take some people a while to see that, but they will. My brother can be reckless, unserious, and?—”
”A complete moron,” Graeson added.
Terin chuckled. ”And a complete moron, but he is a good man and will be a great king one day.”
I nodded and took a sip of wine. From the corner of my eyes, I spotted Fynn twirling Rosalina across the dance floor, her olive green dress glittering beneath the flickering lights of the chandelier.
Right now, no one would have questioned whether the heir to the Pontian throne was having the time of his life. Fynneares Andros Nadarean had everything: wealth, power, strength, and the support of an entire island. Not to mention a decent physique. Even though I had put aside my crush years ago, I was not ignorant of what the other women around me saw when they looked at the newly named Crown Prince. A tall, muscular build, tousled hair that suggested he had just rolled out of bed, and arms that could easily lift his dance partner into the air without breaking a sweat. He was, in simple terms—and in that feigned ideal sort of way that women my age gawked at—perfect.
But no one else saw the way he brushed a light hand across his temple when he spun Rosalina outward, the way his brown eyes squinted, or the way his shoulders sagged as the song came to an end. No one else saw who he was without the title upon his head.
No one saw the man. They only saw the prince.
For a second, though, when his gaze met mine across the ballroom, Fynn was just Fynn—a tired man with too many responsibilities thrust upon him.
Only a best friend could see that.
No matter how much had changed or how little we saw each other, that friendship would still exist.
My gaze swept across the room, landing on Queen Esmeray. Fynn”s mother beamed at her son as he danced in the center of the room. Beside her, though, my mother stood, her critical gaze locked on me. Even from here, I could see her eyebrows scale her forehead as she tilted her head to the center of the room, as if asking, ”What is your excuse for not dancing?”
Refusing to think about our conversation earlier at the ceremony, I turned away from her.
”Want to get some fresh air?” I asked the others.
Graeson pushed himself off the pillar. ”I thought you’d never ask,” he said, leading the way through the crowd to the patio doors, not bothering to look back to see if we followed.
Having finished performinga ridiculous solo act in the middle of the garden, Moris bowed low, his arms spreading out wide. He leaned forward, and his legs wobbled.
Terin sprung up. But as Terin reached for Moris, the prince froze. His hand was midair, inches away, as Moris came crashing down.
”Fuck. That”s not what I meant to do,” Moris mumbled, rubbing his head.
He squinted at Terin, and the prince fell, catching himself with his hands before he smacked against the concrete alongside Moris.
”Shit, Moris. Maybe next time, don”t paralyze me when I”m trying to help you?”
”Sorry.” Moris attempted to push himself up but fell flat on the ground. He groaned. ”Maybe I am a little drunk.”
”A little?” Terin countered.
Laughter bounced off the castle walls. Even Graeson struggled to keep the grimace on his face.
Because of the temperamental and dampened blood of the gods, we spent our childhood nurturing and caring for our abilities. Yet our gifts were still fragile little things if not properly used or cared for.
When Pontanius came to the moral world, he had fallen in love with a mortal woman, Alysinth. As a result, their children had been born with both mortal and immortal blood, granting them the power of the gods. While the children were not as strong as their immortal father, they were stronger than mortals and had unforeseen abilities. To help his children master their abilities, Pontanius and the goddess Sabina built the Whispering Springs, a waterfall infused with the gods” will, in the center of Pontia. By visiting the springs and speaking with the gods, a child could learn to control their gift.
However, our gifts could sometimes remain volatile years later—especially if someone had one too many glasses of wine.
”Already started without me, huh?” Fynn asked as he hopped down the stone steps, glass in hand and crown crooked on his head.
”Not our fault Mother-dearest was parading you around like a prized cow,” I said.
Terin snorted beside me.
Fynn threw himself onto the bench with an exasperated sigh. ”Don”t even get me started, Ferrios. Do you know how many times I had to smile and nod as one woman after the next chided away about her frivolous accomplishments?”
”Aww, the little prince”s life is so hard,” I mocked. ”He”s forced to dance with pretty women.”
Those around us chuckled, raising their glasses to cover their amused grins.
Fynn narrowed his eyes and said, ”Forced is the key word here.”
Sylvia scoffed, kicking their feet in the water as they perched on the concrete wall. ”Hot is the more accurate description.” Sylvia wore a simple dark green ensemble that complimented their auburn hair. The green fabric was draped over the concrete wall and dipped into the water like ivy crawling over stone.
”Sylvia”s right,” I said. ”At least your mother is trying to set you up with attractive partners.”
Fynn”s attention flicked to me again, his eyes locking onto mine for a second too long. I scrambled, double-checking that my shields were up.
A smirk slipped upon his face.
Too late.
I slammed the door shut and forced him out of my mind.
”So, both of our mothers are trying to set us up, huh? Are they part of some mothers-seeking-spouses-for-their-reluctant-children club that we need to dismantle?”
I snorted. ”Perhaps that should be your first decree as Crown Prince.”
Fynn plucked the crown from his head and spun it around his finger. ”If only this crown were more than a physical representation of the symbolic chain that will be locking me to this castle in the near future.” He gripped the crown within his palm and sat it on his knee.
Moris” brows twisted, confusion spreading across his face.
I clicked my tongue. ”If I have any say in the matter, my mother”s plans will not work. I”ll entertain her options. Let whatever poor suitors she chooses court me, and then get rid of them.”
”Get rid of them?” Moris squawked. ”Dani, you can”t just go around killing people!”
Huffing, I waved a hand in the air. ”Oh, calm down. I”m not going to kill them, Moris. I”m simply going to show them that courting me is the exact opposite of what they want to do. I don”t care if they think a relationship with me is advantageous. My father might be the commander and one of the queen”s advisors, but his position in society will not be worth courting me.”
”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 wasthe 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.
Fynn picked up his crown and turned to his side to face me, mimicking my position. ”Is it that ridiculous of them to want you to have a connection with someone? To have something and someone to fight for when the time comes?”
I sat up, my fingers curling around the edge of the bench. ”How many times have I told you to stay out of my head, Fynneares?”
”Using my formal name now, are we?” He winked.
”Would you prefer Fynnie?”
Fynn grimaced. ”Never call me that again.”
I chuckled. ”How about Fynneares Andros Nadarean, Crown Prince of Pontia?”
A cocky smirk appeared on his face, the pleasure of hearing his new title practically illuminating his face in the dark of night.
Smug bastard, I thought.
”I heard that.”
”Good.”
Fynn huffed and mumbled, ”Well, at least get your facts right when you insult me. I am not a bastard, and you know that.”
”Oh, is the little prince upset?” I asked, putting on my best mocking smirk.
As much as Fynn tried to play it off that he did not want the title, he cared more about the crown he twirled around his finger haphazardly than he let on. He might have been reckless most of the time, but his heart was always in the right place. He never did anything to harm another person or put his kingdom at risk.
Fynn laid back on his back, dropping an arm over his eyes. ”You”re just trying to change the topic.”
”And what if I am?” I slunk back against the bench, my back hitting the cold metal.
He sighed. ”Avoiding the problem isn”t going to solve it, Dani.”
”Like you”re the one to talk. Aren”t you avoiding your problems by being out here instead of in there?”
”The ball ended nearly half an hour ago,” Fynn said.
I snapped my head toward the castle, and my brows furrowed.
The music and chatter that once poured from the closed doors were now nonexistent. The only people I could see through the grand windows were the staff cleaning up and the musicians packing up their instruments. I hadn”t even noticed that the music had stopped or that the crowd’s constant chatter had dwindled. Usually, I was more observant of my surroundings.
Deep wrinkles creased the center of my forehead. Perhaps it was for the best that I had not been promoted after all. If I hadn”t even realized that the ball had ended and almost everyone had disappeared, was I responsible enough to lead a battalion into battle safely?
”Come on, you know you don”t believe that,” Fynn said, with a click of his tongue.
The muscles in my jaw tightened. ”Get out of my head, Fynn.”
”What? It”s not my fault your thoughts are so loud right now. They”re practically begging me to listen to them.”
”That”s no excuse. You reading my thoughts is a complete invasion of my privacy.”
”You know that I can”t help it sometimes. It”s not like I can turn it off.”
I narrowed my eyes. ”You could at least try not to listen to them.”
Fynn shrugged. ”Normally, you”re more closed off. Unlike some people, you”re usually good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. Except, you know”—he waved a hand in the air—”when you”re distracted.”
I pursed my lips. I was distracted tonight. Usually, I could shake the concerns and worries of the day away easily. Blocking things out and separating them into their designated boxes within the confinements of my mind was not just easy but necessary. Protecting my mind from Fynn”s abilities aside, being able to walk away from the stresses of the day was a vital skill for a soldier and leader. While there hadn”t been a war in Vaneria for almost one hundred years, political strife was rising across the seven kingdoms. Even though Pontia was separated by a body of water, messengers and spies traveled back and forth, relaying news about the unrest in the kingdoms to the south.
I needed to focus.
My palms pressed into the bench, about to stand, when Fynn called out.
”Wait, Dani,” Fynn said, leaning on his side again, making me pause. ”Stay. Just for a little longer.”
I gave him a cursory glance. ”I”m not the only one avoiding my problems. Now am I?”
Fynn rubbed a hand across his face. ”I never said I wasn”t avoiding them, too.”
”You”re ridiculous,” I said with an eye roll as I settled against the bench.
Fynn grinned. ”But also charming and handsome and smart, right?”
I rolled my eyes again but laughed. ”Sure. If that”s what gets you through the night.”
His smile fell. ”I am sorry that you didn”t get the promotion. You”ve worked so hard for it over the past year and a half.”
I shrugged. ”Some things cannot simply be handed down.”
Fynn flinched.
My face twisting with guilt, I rushed to apologize. ”That”s not—that”s not what I meant, Fynn.”
The corners of his lip turned up, but the smile didn”t quite reach his eyes. He shook his head as if he could shake the emotion away. ”It”s fine. I get it. I was set to become king the moment I was born.” He dropped his gaze, focusing on the cobblestone pavement between us.
”Fynn,” I said.
My attitude was only a result of my frustrations with my situation, not Fynn acquiring the title of heir. My father was the commander of the entire Pontian military. He oversaw the promotions of the leaders, so I knew that to some soldiers, it would have appeared like a handout if I had received the promotion. But it wasn”t. I had spent my entire life training. I had worked hard to build a solid knowledge base of strategy and to build trust among the soldiers in my platoon. My soldiers knew how hard I worked and how much I lived and breathed the military.
Still, it wasn”t enough.
No, I corrected, it was too much.
I groaned. ”I don”t get it, Fynn. What more can I do? General Walen is retiring in five months. I have five months to prove to them that I—what? Can have a serious relationship? It”s preposterous.”
”Let someone court you then.”
My jaw fell open. ”You have to be joking.”
”What?”
”You, of all people, cannot be telling me to listen to my mother when you aren”t even listening to your own!”
”I mean—I attempted. You saw me dance with several women tonight, did you not?”
”And when the first opportunity to get away arose, you took it.”
Fynn shrugged. ”When the opportunity presents itself, whom am I to deny it? I am just a measly man.”
”The queen isn”t going to give this up,” I said.
Fynn sat up, his head falling to the side as he looked at me with a narrowed gaze.
I jerked back, but my shields were still intact. Still sound. ”If you”re trying to read my?—”
Shaking his head, Fynn held up a hand. ”I”m not. I promise. It”s just?—”
”What?” I asked, still not trusting the mischievous glint in his brown eyes.
”What if—now hear me out before you say no,” Fynn held his hands up, ”What if I pretend to court you?”
If I had been drinking something, I would have choked. Instead, my jaw dropped, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. ”Good one, Fynn,” I said with a forced laugh.
For years, I had dreamed of Fynn asking to court me. Never in my wildest dreams, however, did I imagine him asking to pretend to court me. While my feelings about Fynn might have changed since we were teenagers, it still felt like a slap in the face.
”Hear me out.” Fynn stood and began to pace, waving his hands as he spoke. ”I pretend to court you. We go to a few public events and make a grand show of it. In the process, we appease both of our mothers. Not only that, the military leaders will see that you do have ties to hold you down and that you do, in fact, have a life outside the military. Then, once you get your promotion in five months, we end things.”
”Just like that?” I asked, laughter bubbling in my mouth.
Fynn nodded, no hint of amusement marking his features.
His proposition was ridiculous. Outrageous, really.
”That could never work,” I said, shaking my head as I stood. ”Our mothers would see right through that. Plus, I don”t want to be courted. I don”t want a relationship, Fynn. Even a fake one.”
He grabbed my wrist, his fingers cool against my skin. ”Think about it, will you?”
I snorted. ”Goodnight, Fynn.”