Page 30 of Fading Sun

“Any question I ask about why you’re asking me to break the bond is relevant regarding my decision to help you,” she shoots back.

It’s impossible to deny that her point is a good one.

“I need to leave Manhattan,” I say before Damien can answer. “But I’m not ready to accept Damien’s proposal.”

Damien moves closer to me, as if preparing to protect me from Lysandra’s wrath.

But Lysandra only nods slowly, her eyes searching mine so intensely that it’s like they’re trying to see into my soul.

“Do you think you’ll ever be ready to accept his proposal?” she finally asks.

A lofty question.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

Something about Lysandra—perhaps her obvious ageless knowledge of the world, or maybe simply the fact that she’s fae—makes me think she’s easily able to see through any lie. Trying would only put me in more danger than I’m already in from coming here in the first place.

She sizes me up, and I hold my breath, praying she’ll offer us a deal—and that it’ll be a fair one. Or at least a reasonable enough one to accept.

“I can break the bond,” she finally says. “In exchange for the part of your soul that allows you to love.”

Amber

I stand there for a moment, shocked as I process Lysandra’s request.

She wants the part of my soul that allows me to love.

I expected a debt or favor. But giving up a part of my soul…

What would it be like to be unable to love? Would I still be me? Or would I become a shell of who I am? Hard instead of having an open heart, cruel instead of kind, selfish instead of helping others, and cold instead of embracing the sun’s warmth that runs through my veins?

I don’t know.

But I doubt I would have risked myself to save Abigail from Lucas on Little Island. I wouldn’t have run to the lobby to help fight when the shadow souls attacked the Fairmont, instead of staying safe in my room. Astrophel’s desire to get me to love him—and my inability to stop thinking about that kiss—wouldn’t be eating away at me so much, since there’d be no part of me there for him to tempt emotionally. And I certainly wouldn’t be so torn up about Damien’s proposal.

Because, like he said, getting married would be a sensible business arrangement. Why avoid it if it wouldn’t mean missing out on love?

Plus, if I can’t love, will it even hurt when I inevitably lose someone close to me? Will it protect me from the agony Damien’s going through after what happened with Viktor?

I glance at him, wanting to ask for his thoughts. But he’s not even looking at me.

It’s like the part of the soul that allows him to love disappeared the night he killed Viktor. Or like my decision doesn’t affect him enough for him to care, as long as the bond gets broken.

I’m not sure which of the two is worse.

So, I turn away from him, looking out over the garden that doesn’t seem quite as magical as it did before. It’s beautiful, sure, but beneath the surface, there’s an undercurrent of darkness. Of deals, sacrifices, and losses too great to bear.

“Love is a powerful force, Amber,” Lysandra purrs, goading me. “It can be your greatest strength, or your ultimate downfall. It causes endless pain and chaos. It can blind you from seeing the truth. It makes you think with your heart and not with your head—to make decisions impulsively instead of thinking them through.”

I flinch at the mention of that stupid word again.

Impulsively.

Would it make me a better leader if I didn’t love? If it was easier to do what everyone always seems to want from me nowadays, and make decisions from a place of logic instead of emotions? To see people and situations as they are instead of the way I want them to be?

Could I really take Lysandra up on this and say yes?

Her eyes glisten, as if she knows how seriously I’m contemplating her offer.

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