12. Amber

All isquiet inside the secluded garden of Central Park's Belvedere Castle, and I shift uneasily on the stone bench, trying not to stare at Damien.

He's standing a few feet away, his posture rigid, gazing into nothingness.

It reminds me of the trance Morgan went into while we were chatting on the roof. I keep telling myself she's just tired, recovering from her journey in the mystical realm. But something isn't right.

Even though I've only known her for a few weeks, I've never seen her like that.

I considered talking to Damien about it on our walk through the park, but I decided against it. He's been through enough lately with Viktor. I don't want him to worry about Morgan on top of everything else.

He's also not exactly open to talking to me right now, which makes the decision easy for me.

So I take a deep breath and gaze around the garden, with its creeping ivy and the scent of damp earth. It's a strange sort of magic that's about to unfold here, at two in the morning, when the park's gates lock and the mystical realm seeps through. I've heard about it from Damien and the other vampires, but seeing it is going to be different from anything they could ever describe.

Hopefully, it won't be as creepy as when Grand Central Station transformed into the start of the Minotaur's Labyrinth.

Damien's so still that he might as well be a statue in the garden. And, not for the first time since meeting him, I think about how this beautiful man—this vampire king—might someday be my husband.

Given the way it started between us, I can't believe I've had a single moment when I've contemplated saying yes.

But for the past few hours, the possibility of walking down an aisle and exchanging vows with him has felt more real than ever. And while I hope Lysandra will give us another option, I need to prepare for anything.

"If we go through with this marriage, what happens if we decide to end it?" I ask, since we don't have much time until the fae world takes over, and I feel a sudden burning need to know the answer.

Damien turns to look at me, his posture rigid, the moonlight highlighting the beautifully strong features of his face.

"If we marry and decide to part ways, the consequences are severe," he says. "Not just for you, but for both of us."

I swallow, the weight of his words settling like a stone in my stomach. "Severe how?"

"Our laws are ancient and unforgiving," he says. "A vampire who abandons their spouse is seen not just as unfaithful to their vows, but as a betrayer of their clan. You would be branded as untrustworthy and ostracized. Not just by our clan, but by all of them."

"So, I'd be alone?" I ask, the harshness of it all making my throat tighten. "Completely?"

"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?"

I'm struggling to keep up, my mind stuck on Lysandra's previous words.

A place steeped with our history.

What kind of history?

From the way she said it, it sounds far more serious than the likes of them being mere acquaintances.

My chest tightens at the thought of Damien and this beautiful fae queen together, and I step closer to him. Almost territorially so.

Definitely territorially so.

Lysandra's gaze drifts to my left hand, and she relaxes slightly, giving me a chilling smile as she waits for Damien's answer.

"Your wisdom," Damien repeats, stern and sure. "For a question you'll be pleased to hear."

Lysandra's expression shifts, intrigue sparking in her eyes. "Very well," she says, her voice softening as she turns to the girl by her side. "Freesia, would you give us a moment?"

"Of course." Freesia's eyes remain downcast as she gives me and Damien a small curtsy, although she manages one quick, curious look behind the curtain of her brown hair before hurrying out of the garden.

Damien told me about Freesia during our walk in the park to get to the castle. She's the changeling girl—a human—that Lysandra took in to raise as her own. If you can call it that, since fae view humans as pets more than children.

My heart goes out to her. I hope she's happy here, and treated well, in this realm full of tricks and deception.

The changeling, however, isn't my problem.

Ensuring I don't get tangled into a marriage I'm not ready for is.

Lysandra all but floats over to the fountain, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she runs the tips of her fingers along the surface of its water.

"So," she begins, playful and curious. "What question brings the mighty King Damien back to my garden with the woman he intends to make his bride, but has yet to put a ring on her finger, by his side?"

She looks supremely self-satisfied after speaking that final part.

I cover my left hand with my right, as if hiding a ring that isn't there.

"We're looking for a way to break the duskberry bond," I say, the words escaping my lips before I can stop myself.

I'm supposed to leave the talking to Damien.

The fae are picky about phrasing, especially when it comes to requesting favors and making deals. One wrong word, no matter how small, can be the difference between receiving what you sought or being tricked into an agreement you didn't realize you were making.

But something about Lysandra irks me so much that I can't stand here speechless, like a deer in her deadly headlights.

The fae queen lifts her hand from the fountain, and a ribbon of shimmering water follows her movements, disappearing into the air as her arm falls back to her side.

"You're asking me to tell you how to break the duskberry bond?" she asks, her eyes locked on mine, waiting for an answer.

"No," Damien replies before I have a chance. "We're asking you to break the duskberry bond that exists between us."

He keeps his gaze fixed on Lysandra, and while he doesn't look over at me, I can practically feel the disappointment radiating from his body.

Quickly, I analyze the differences between what he said and what I said.

If Lysandra agreed to do as I asked, all she would have to do was tell us how to break the bond—not actually do or give us what we need to break it. And her instructions wouldn't necessarily apply to the bond between us. They could simply be how to break a duskberry bond in general, assuming there are different kinds of them.

"You no longer want to marry the girl?" Lysandra directs the question to Damien, not to me.

"Our reason for wanting to break the bond is irrelevant," he says, his stance as guarded as ever.

"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."