Page 31 of Fading Sun

Suddenly, Damien turns to face me, and my breath catches at the softness in his eyes. The flicker of the man I might have been—and possibly still am—falling in love with.

“Don’t do it,” he says. “You’d be stripping away your warmth—the essence that makes you who you are. Without the ability to love, you’ll have no incentive to fight for what you believe in, since you won’t believe in anything anymore.”

“But if I’m not bound by emotions, wouldn’t I be a more effective leader?” I ask, even though his questions are the same ones I asked myself.

Isn’t that what you always want from me? I think. To make decisions with my head instead of my heart?

His breathing quickens, as if he knows exactly what’s going through my mind.

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Emotions aren’t a weakness,” he finally says. “They’re a compass, guiding us through the darkness. And we can’t win the war against the shadow souls if you lose sight of who you are and what you’re fighting for.”

There it is.

He doesn’t want me to keep my ability to love because he thinks it’s what’s best for me.

He wants me to keep it so I’ll continue putting myself in the line of fire for his clan.

Still, looking into his eyes, I see more than strategic calculation. There’s also genuine concern, a depth of feeling he seems almost afraid to acknowledge.

Or maybe the part of me that’s able to love simply wants to see that. Maybe, if I take Lysandra’s offer, I’ll be able to see situations clearer than ever before.

“You want me to keep my ability to love because you want to use it to control me,” I say, realizing it’s not just Damien who’s trying to do that, but Astrophel, too.

Love is the strings to my heart, and Damien and Astrophel are using it like puppet masters to control my every move.

“No,” he says, so strongly that it wipes the thought from my mind. “I want you to keep it because if you give up your ability to love, you’re giving up the part of you that makes you you. The part of you that gives light to the dark, not just to the clan or the city, but to the people around you. If you extinguish that light, it’s not just you who suffers—it’s everyone whose life you touch.”

The space between us crackles at the intensity of his words, my breath catching at the indication of what they could mean.

“Are you saying you’d suffer?” I ask. “If I gave up my ability to love?”

My heart stops as I wait for his answer.

Lysandra watches him, her eyes narrow, like a cat poised to pounce.

“Yes,” he says. “I would.”

His admission hangs in the air, a confession wrapped in vulnerability, stripping the distance between us. And while he says nothing more, a breeze stirs, carrying the scent of roses and the whisper of promises.

So much hinges on this moment.

If I refuse Lysandra’s offer, I’ll have to choose between marrying Damien, and not getting the Solar Scepter in time to stop Astrophel.

If I say yes, I’ll be giving up the foundation of who I am. I’ll be letting down the ones I love the most. And, on top of that, this isn’t just about giving my love to others.

It’s about giving love to myself.

So, I return my focus to Lysandra, meeting her eyes with firm resolve.

“I’ve made my decision,” I tell her. “And I say no to your offer.”

Darkness flickers across her ethereal features, and the water in the fountain stills, as if the garden itself is getting ready to attack.

I reach for my sun magic, confirming it’s still there, relieved when it is.

After the potion nearly destroyed it, I will never, ever take its existence for granted. I don’t think I ever did, but after almost losing it, I’ll always be grateful to Sunneva for choosing me to star touch. I’m not going to give up any qualities of mine that made her believe I’m worthy of wielding a goddess’s magic.

Especially not my ability to love.

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