Page 104 of Prince of the Sun

At the far end of the room, seated on an intricate stone throne draped with black vines, is the Shadow King.

He lounges in the throne with one leg crossed over the other, a goblet dangling from one hand. He looks perfectly comfortable in his position of power. He surveys us silently, lifting the goblet to take a sip. His lips pull back slightly as he swallows, revealing bright white pointed teeth. I can only imagine what kind of foul liquor Shadow Elves must drink.

“Well,” the Shadow King says, surprising me by speaking in English. “Here she is.” He stands from the throne, placing his goblet on the armrest. “The true Lightbearer, come at last.”

I look him squarely in the eye and say, “Where is my brother?”

The Shadow King’s eyebrows shoot skyward. “No formal greeting?”

“Why would I greet the man who plans to imprison me?”

The Shadow King clucks his pointed tongue. “Fair enough.” He steps down from the throne, pacing toward me. The others stand apart, as was part of our plan, leaving me alone, vulnerable, at the center of the room. Moonlight shines through the hole in the ceiling, forming a halo around me. “So, the useless worm that has been eating our food and wasting our oxygen for the last seven years is your brother, eh?”

At those words, seven years’ worth of weight slides from my shoulders. All of my muscles go loose at once.He is alive. He is alive.The words sprint through my mind, a flurry of footsteps tripping over each other.Heisaliveheisaliveheisaliveheisalive.

The Shadow King must see the relief on my face, because his lips peel open in a nasty approximation of a smile. “You thought we killed him, did you? We considered it, of course. He failed the test; all would most likely have been well. Ultimately, though, I deemed it too risky.” He strolls in a circle around me, pale, long-fingered hands wound together behind his back. “The sacrifice of the Lightbearer will chase the darkness back to Shadowfell. We suspect that the only way for that to happen is with a sword through the heart, but we couldn’t take any chances.”

I cannot hold my demand in any longer. “Bring him to me.”

“You demand much for a girl who is about to become our prisoner.”

I fold my arms. “With what little time I have left, I would like to see my brother.” I pause, then add, “Please.”

Instead of answering my request, the Shadow King looks over my shoulder. His eyes settle on someone standing just behind me. “Ah. Varith Ariar’s least favorite son. I should say that I’m surprised to find you here, but I’m not.” He steps aside, brushing past me to hover near Daerios. “Is that what this is? An act of defiance against your father? If so, it’s the most foolish decision you’ll ever make. If your father didn’t hate you before, he certainly will now.”

I don’t need to turn around to see Daerios’s expression. His eyes will be steely ice. His lips a thin line. Jaw clenched tight as stone, fists balled at his sides, itching to swing at the Shadow King. But that isn’t part of the plan. So, instead of doing what he wants to do, Daerios says, his voice smooth and even, “Actually, I’m here on my father’s behalf.”

I cannot help but glance over at the Shadow King to see his reaction. His face has lit up with surprise. “Is that so? I’m to believe that your fatherwantsme to possess the one human capable of driving back the shadows that cloak his home planet?”

“You are.” Daerios keeps his tone light. “My father has grown quite comfortable on Earth. The humans are terrified of us, which essentially allows us to have our run of the place. They still have their petty governments in place, but everyone knows who the real rulers are.” I keep my back to Daerios, but I imagine his lips pulling up into a cruel smile at this point. “Elaërion is yours, Shadow King.”

I glance at the Shadow King again. His eyes gleam. He wants to believe Daerios’s story, I can tell. But he knows that victory does not come this easy. “If he’s ready to admit defeat, why didn’t he come here himself? Why send his failure of a son and two irrelevant lackeys? One of which,” the Shadow King frowns, “is a human? What isthatcreature doing here?”

“I’m Quinn’s best friend,” Cara pipes up before anyone can tell her not to. “I came along for moral support.”

“Walking your best friend to her death? How…” The king tilts his head. “considerate?”

“And this man is no irrelevant lackey,” Daerios says. “This is Berendir Meldë, son of Adan Meldë.”

“Ahhhh.” Recognition lights in the Shadow King’s eyes. “I see. Degenerate sons of the king and his general. Borderline useless on the battlefield, even less so when it comes to strategy. I understand, now.” He smiles. “You’re the most expendable members of the royal entourage.”

NowI’mthe one holding back my fury. How dare this phony king speak as if he knows Daerios and Berendir? How dare he call themuselessandexpendable? My fingers twitch, eager to reach for the bow slung over my shoulder.

“Pointless insults aside,” Daerios says, his voice remarkably calm for the black rage that I know must be bubbling just beneath the surface. “We are here to make a deal. Would you like to hear the terms or not?”

“The terms?” The Shadow King barks out a laugh. “Son, youmarched straight into my territory, armed with little more than a few spears and sabers. What bargaining power do you expect to hold over me?”

“You underestimate the level of planning that has gone into this exchange,” Daerios says. “Berendir and I were sent ahead as a show of good faith, but my father is not far behind. Within an hour or so, he will be arriving at the top of that mountain over there.” I can’t see to which mountain he’s referring, but I’m assuming it’s one of the peaks visible through the wide, open-air window. “With an army of approximately 4,500 soldiers behind him. Either you deal with Berendir and me, or you deal with them.”

The Shadow King’s face tightens. He spins on his cloth boots and marches back toward his throne. He ascends the two steps that lead up to it and settles back onto the black cushion covering its stone seat. He crosses his legs, settles his chin on one fist, and narrows his eyes at Daerios. “You’re lying,” he says at last.

“He’s not,” Berendir says. “My father is the one leading the army.”

The Shadow King sighs, rubbing his forehead with one pale hand. After a long pause during which the king seems to think through his next move, he lifts his face back up and says, “Very well. What are your terms?”

At this signal, Daerios steps forward to stand beside me. I nearly melt with relief. I didn’t realize how tense I’d become while having to face the Shadow King without being able to see Daerios. Now that I can see his dark hair, his green cloak—even just peripherally—warmth and comfort spark at my center.

“We will give you the Lightbearer in exchange for two things,” Daerios says, just as we practiced. “Her brother and the Shadow Sword.”