Page 111 of Prince of the Sun

“Impossible,” says a different male voice. “We all saw the sword go into her chest. And we all saw what happened af—”

“Saechon,” says the first male voice, the one that turns my insides to melted chocolate. “If you don’t shut the fuck up andget the fuck out of this room, I will remove you myself. One limb at a time.”

Another frail, wobbling word escapes my lips. “Daerios?”

“I’m here, baby.”

I’m here.

My eyes peel apart. The room is a blur. My eyes feel sore. Swollen. As iftheywere the ones stabbed by a sword, not my heart.

Wait.

I stabbed myself in the heart.

“I’m supposed to be dead,” I croak.

A relieved sob escapes my mom’s mouth. I can’t see her—just the smudge of a familiar brown bob—but I know it came from her.

“Yes, you are.” I feel Daerios’s cool, calloused fingers slide around my other hand, the one not in a death grip from my mother. “And if that sword had gone into you even an inch to the left, you would be.”

“But I’m not?” I blink. The room comes slightly more into focus. I make out three figures, plus white walls and a mess of machinery.

“No, sweetheart.” My mom reaches up and brushes back a lock of my hair. “You’re not.”

I blink again. Again. Again.

“Your eyes might take a while to return to normal,” comes Saechon’s voice. I look over at his blurry figure, hunched in the corner. “If you opened them during the Release, your corneas were likely damaged.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Daerios snaps from my left. “You’re no longer needed here.”

“Very well.” The tall smudge that is Saechon straightens up. He starts to head for the door, then pauses, turning back to face me. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Lightbearer.”

They make me go back to sleep. At first, I try to refuse, but exhaustion quickly pulls me back into the dark.

When I wake, my vision has cleared. The room appears empty, but when I look to the left, I find Daerios. He sits quietly in his chair, hands folded in his lap, looking oddly restrained.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hello,” he says.

“Where am I?”

“Mass General.” He gestures to the starched white of the bed upon which I lie, the tangle of instruments in the corner.

“Back in Boston? How’d my mom get here so fast?”

Daerios smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “You’ve been out for three days, Quinn.”

“Oh.” I chew my bottom lip, unsure what to do with that information. Unsure what to do withanything.“Where is she now?”

“Outside with Michael. She’s… processing.” He pauses, watching me carefully, then adds, “They both are.”

“And Cara? Berendir?”

“Both safe.”

I nod, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the pillow. “Good,” I say. “It was worth it, then. Sacrificing myself to stop the war—it was worth it.”