Page 34 of Fading Sun

He doesn’t smile back.

Not even a hint of emotion.

Maybe I should open the duskberry bond. Show him what I’m feeling.

Except what I’m feeling is fear. Hesitation. Questioning if I’ll regret this decision forever. Guilt for not telling him about the token, the kiss, and everything I learned from Astrophel about his connection to Ambrogio.

I can’t tell him any of it. Because if I tell him how much Astrophel opened up to me, he’ll push to learn why he opened up to me. And I’m not sure I’m ready to share that with anyone yet. Especially not with Damien, right here, a few minutes after telling him I’ll be his queen.

That’s a mood killer if there ever was one.

“We’ll do the ceremony tomorrow night,” he says. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can leave the city to find the Solar Scepter.”

The sooner it’s done.

It sounds like he’s talking about a job interview—not about our wedding day.

“Okay.” I straighten my shoulders, trying to match his stoic indifference. “Tomorrow.”

He gives me a look of approval, as if verifying that the date is set. No ring. No nothing.

Just a verbal agreement.

A business arrangement.

“We should get some rest.” He clears his throat and glances at the elephant in the room—the bed. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell him. “We can share the bed.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never shared a bed with a woman before?” I ask, knowing there’s no chance it’s true. Especially after witnessing that verbal spat between him and Lysandra.

His gaze is steady, locked on mine, challenging me. “Not with a woman who’s about to become my wife.”

His wife.

Heat ignites in my body at the commanding way he says it, and my pulse quickens, the air around us charged with the possibility of something deeper than the contractual bond we’re about to enter.

“Damien…” I reach out, but he steps away, as if my touch is a snake about to bite.

My chest pangs with rejection, and I drop my arm down to my side, looking at the empty bed before us.

It’s like it’s mocking me. A physical representation of the loveless marriage I just agreed to enter to try killing the Shadow Lord.

Astrophel.

The man who actually seems like he wants to give me his heart.

Assuming he has a heart at all.

“Enjoy the floor,” I say, and then I stomp to the bed, get under the covers, pull them over my head, and pray that by some miracle, I’ll be able to fall asleep.

Amber

My body tingles with magic, and then I’m lying on a cold floor, the sounds of birds chirping through an open window bringing me out of my restless sleep.

I push myself up and look around.

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