Page 105 of Prince of the Sun

The Shadow King appears genuinely surprised by thesedemands. “Her brother? What on Elaërion could you want with that useless human?”

I would love to run an arrow through that bastard’s heart.

“That part of the deal has nothing to do with us.” Daerios gestures to me. “It was a demand made by the Lightbearer. She agreed to come willingly with us to Elaërion, provided that we could guarantee the safety of her brother.”

The Shadow King surveys me, his all-black eyes glinting in the sparse moonlight. “Interesting. You would give up your own life to save that of your brother?”

“A thousand times over,” I say. This time, I’m not lying.

The king nods. “Very well.” He turns to the guard at his right and says, “Fetch the boy.”

I’ve never been so happy to hear three words spoken aloud in my life. I have to hold myself back from sprinting after the guard, ensuring no harm comes to Michael before he reaches this chamber.

“Now.” The Shadow King steeples his fingers. “As to the matter of the Shadow Sword. I’m curious as to what you want with the weapon that caused all of this”—he gestures vaguely, encompassing the infinite night coating all of Elaërion—“in the first place. Planning to do the same thing on Earth?”

Daerios shakes his head. In my peripheral vision, I see his black hair swish back and forth. “Quite the opposite. We will be placing the sword under our protection to ensure that you don’t get any ideas about doing the same thing to our new home.”

The Shadow King taps a long fingernail to his chin. “The Shadow Sword is quite sacred to us, you know. Only one of its kind exists, and the blacksmith who made it is dead.”

“We’re aware,” Daerios says.

The Shadow King says nothing for a long breath. His lips turn down. I can see the wheels spinning in his head—weighing the deal, the benefits he would gain, the opportunities he would lose.And, of course, the veracity of it all. What if Daerios is lying? What if it’s all a ruse?

Please, God, if you exist on this planet, if you exist at all, let him buy our story.

After a small eternity, his pale grey lips quirk upward. “Very well. The boy and the sword in exchange for the Lightbearer.” He stands, folding his hands behind his back. “It’s a small price to pay, really. We have no use for either of those items. And once the girl is ours, our reign will be cemented. There is nothing and no one else who can take away the shadows. We will happily hand over what you desire…” A smile curls his lips. “Once we have the girl safely locked away.”

Beside me, Daerios tenses. I reach out and brush his fingertips, hoping to remind him that I am not afraid, that we planned for this scenario. That wewantedthis scenario.

I only realize my mistake when it’s already too late. The Shadow King catches the gesture, subtle as it was. His eyes dart down to our fingers, then back up to us. They narrow. He opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the doors to the chamber swing open. I whip around, and there he is.

My brother.

He’s different than I remember. Taller. Paler. Hair thick with dirt and down to his hips. Painfully thin, as if the elves have fed him nothing. But it’s him.

It’s my little brother.

“Michael,” I sob. I can’t help it. I break away from the guards and my friends, sprinting over to greet him in the doorway. I throw my arms over his shoulders, which have grown to unfathomable heights, even if they feel frail as bird bones under my arms. “You’re alive. Thank God. You’realive.”

I’m allowed only a brief moment to cling to my brother before the guards pull me away. Still, I keep my eyes glued to his face—to his concave cheekbones, his sunken eyes, his lipsdangling open in obvious confusion.

When he speaks, his voice is raspy with disuse. “Quinn?”

“Yes,” I choke out. “Yes, Michael, it’s me.”

“You…” His eyes dart back and forth across my face. “You came for me?”

“Of course I did. Looking for you—it’s all I’ve done for the last seven years. I was so afraid you were… that I would be too late. But here you are, and—”

“Enough,” the Shadow King’s high voice cuts us off. “You’ve seen him. You know he’s alive. Let’s get this deal over with.” He waves a hand. The guards clutching my arms yank them behind my body and start to push me out of the chamber.

“No!” Daerios says.

I want to turn aside. I want to look at Daerios, to remind him that everything will be okay—even if it won’t. But I can’t take my eyes off Michael. He’s looking at me like I’m a ghost. Like he’s standing in a dream that has played over and over in his mind for the last seven years, waiting to wake up.

“No,” Daerios says, softer this time. “How are we to know that, once you take Quinn, you won’t simply keep her brother and the sword to yourself?”

Unwillingly, I tear my eyes from Michael turn around to watch the interaction between the prince and the Shadow King.