13. 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.

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.

"Very well," the fae queen says. "But when you marry a man who values his kingdom over the woman he claims to love, remember that I offered you a life of peace—of freedom from pain and longing—and you refused."

"That's enough, Lysandra," Damien snaps at her.

"Is it?" she asks sweetly. "Will anything—or anyone—ever be enough for you?"

His jaw tightens, and there's a fire in his icy eyes that I haven't seen in a while.

A fire that gives me hope.

"I've made my choices, and I stand by them. Just as I stand by Amber," he says, kindling a warmth in my soul that I didn't realize was missing until this moment. "You know better than to question my loyalty to those I care about."

Her laughter's chilling and sharp, making goosebumps prickle across my arms. "And who do you care about, Damien?" she asks. "Who, not what. A kingdom doesn't count."

I look back and forth between them, a silent witness to a history much deeper and more tangled than I ever imagined.

There are so many layers to Damien's past. I've barely scratched the surface of uncovering them—of getting to know him.

Am I really about to go ahead and marry him?

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Lysandra," Damien says, as cold as ever, bringing my racing thoughts back to the verbal spar between them. "It's beneath you and the crown you wear."

Her eyes widen, and she lifts her chin in a mix of surprise and disdain. "You mistake my intentions," she replies to him. "I offer her freedom—not chains."

"You offer yourself an opportunity to get back what you feel you've lost."

His words are daggers thrown at her, and she curls her hands into fists, huge droplets of water in the fountain rising like crystal weapons.

Weapons I could potentially vaporize.

My magic warms under my skin, very much enjoying that thought.

But I won't antagonize the fae queen.

No attacking unless she attacks first.

"Your offer to Amber is noted, but as she said, she made her choice," Damien says before I can second-guess my decision to rein in my magic. "Now, we'll be on our way."

"And where, exactly, do you intend to go?" Lysandra asks. "My realm won't give way to yours for hours."

"The forest?" He smirks, as though amused by his own comment. "I hear the hobgoblins are quite hospitable."

"Don't be silly." She scoffs. "You'll stay here, in the palace."

"You say that as if you think I'll believe you're offering from the generosity in your heart."

"I'm offering because I also don't want the shadow souls to take over the city, given that they'll clearly come for my realm after they finish with yours," she says. "You and your star touched bride won't succeed in staving them off if you've been driven out of your minds by the hobgoblins before you can return home."

"I'm not his bride," I chime in, since I really hate her calling me that—even though it's looking more and more possible that it'll end up being true.

"Not yet. But if you ever are, at least you'll know you were warned." She remains focused on Damien, not sparing me a glance, and unsettlingly seeming to believe her words. "Now, since we're clearly done here, I'll see you both to your rooms myself."