Page 28 of Fading Sun

“Not completely,” he says. “Ruby would likely have the Pine Valley pack take you in, given that you’re also star touched.”

I nod, since while I hate the idea of being cast out of the place that’s quickly become my home, I know he’s probably right.

“And what about you?” I ask. “If ending the marriage is my choice, would you be blamed as well?”

“I would share your fate.” Pain flashes in his eyes at the thought of losing his clan—his family. “As your husband, and as your king, your actions would reflect upon me. My leadership and loyalty would be called into question. It would undoubtedly lead to my downfall.”

The vulnerability in his admission strikes a chord within me. Because Damien—the strong, unshakeable king of the most powerful clan in the country—could be ostracized from his own kingdom by something as human as a failed marriage.

He could lose everything because of me.

By marrying me, he’d be entrusting me with the future he’s worked hard to build.

“Maybe we could change it,” I say. “You’re the king. You can make a new law. One that’s more modern.”

His eyes harden, and a breeze stirs, as if he’s about to lash out at me for the mere suggestion.

I gather my sun magic, ready for anything.

Luckily, he regains his composure, and the air stills. “The memories of vampires are long and sharp,” he finally says. “Our customs are born from centuries of tradition and survival. They’re the threads of our history’s tapestry, and pulling one risks unraveling the entire fabric holding us together.”

I sit back and nod, digesting his words.

He says nothing as he waits for my response.

“I understand,” I eventually say, even though I feel like the fabric of his metaphorical tapestry is covering and suffocating me.

We don’t have time to discuss it further, because before he can reply, the clock hits two, and the garden shimmers and morphs. Flowers bloom, trees arch their backs as if stretching after a long sleep, and the stone bench I’m sitting on softens into a moss-covered settee.

The fae realm.

The air here is thicker somehow, as if covered with a magical haze. And the garden itself, well… it’s something else entirely with its fruits and exotic flowers, each petal and leaf shimmering with an otherworldly, dewy glow.

Water flows from the large stone fountain in the center, bubbling as if it’s the force holding the garden’s life together.

Off to the side, a woman and a teenage girl are watering a patch of iridescent flowers. They’re so involved in their task that they don’t notice we’re here, and I still, not wanting to risk any sudden moves.

Damien clears his throat, and the woman snaps to attention, the fountain’s water flowing faster as she rises.

If she’s startled by our appearance, her petite features don’t show it. She simply glides toward us, her gown flowing like a river, her silvery hair shimmering with the same ethereal light as her garden.

“Queen Lysandra,” Damien says with a respectful nod. “You look well.”

“And you look like you bear no ill will toward me for leaving you in the haunted woods to fight for your life,” she says, and despite the way she’s glaring at him, there’s a musicality in her tone that’s interwoven with a hint of respect.

“You, of everyone, should know it’s going to take more than a stroll through the woods to end me,” he replies, his composure unshaken even as Lysandra’s green eyes narrow further.

Then, just when I’m ready for her to use her water magic to attack him, she glances at me, and her expression hardens.

I don’t have a chance to introduce myself before her gaze sweeps back to Damien.

“Bringing your star touched here, to this place steeped in our history?” she says, sweet but challenging.

The water flows faster in the fountain.

Damien’s posture stiffens, but he maintains his diplomatic tone. “We come seeking your wisdom,” he says. “Nothing more.”

“My wisdom?” She raises a brow. “Or a favor?”

---