Page 17 of Prince of the Sun

“Quite.”

“What if I told you there would be unlimited M&Ms at the date event?”

Her head whips around. “How did you—?”

Berendir’s eyes dip down, landing on front pocket of Cara’s backpack. Out of which sticks an open bag of M&Ms.

“That’s cheating.” Cara stuffs the bag into the pocket and zips it up.

“Is it?” Berendir flutters his eyelashes. “I would call it using my powers of deduction.”

Cara rolls her eyes.

Berendir leans closer. “And those aren’t the only powers I possess. Has anyone ever told you about elves’ supernaturally-enlarged—”

“All right!” Daerios interrupts, setting his glass of water down just a tad too hard. “I believe the girls have heard enough.”

“I never thought I would say this.” I shake my head. “But, thank you, Daerios.”

The prince looks at me with obvious surprise. Cara tilts her head almost to horizontal and mouths,“Daerios?”I shrug and look away, cheeks heating. My eyes fall on Berendir’s cloak, where a pendant of three golden torches is pinned. The official symbol of the Ikarith.

After dragging myself in the door of our dorm room well past midnight, Cara not saying a word as she eyed me from her desk, I spent hours lying awake in bed, thinking about what I heard on the roof of the Ikarith. My first instinct had been right. The elves are looking for a book. More specifically, they’re looking for somethingwithina book, because if Daerios had found the book in question, he wouldn’t need to investigate further. But that begs the question: if this book is truly the answer to the elves’ century-long search, why would he return it? Why allow someone else to check it out? Wouldn’t he want to keep it under lock and key, lest it disappear altogether?

None of the pieces fit. Thankfully, I will have more than enough of an opportunity to wheedle information out of Daerios on Saturday. As long as I don’t reveal my hand in the process.

“Have you two ever tried elvish food before?” Berendir asks.

“No,” says Cara, taking a pointed bite of shepherd’s pie.

“Oh, you must. Once you do, you’ll never go back to human food.”

I say, “I quite like human food, thank you very much.”

“Oh, do you?” Daerios snorts. “Youenjoytasteless mush?”

I spear another soy-drenched vegetable with a little too much gusto. “Maybe I do.”

Daerios’s lips curl backward.

“What?” I ask, waving the fork in his face. “You afraid? Noscary broccoli on Elaërion?”

The words are out before I can think twice about them.

I freeze. Across the table, so does Cara. Daerios and Berendir look at each other, clearly engaging in some silent conversation. After a too-long stretch of time, during which neither Cara nor I take a single sip of air, Berendir’s eyebrows raise, almost as if he’s impressed. Daerios blinks in response.

At last, Daerios turns to me. “No,” he says. “No broccoli on Elaërion.”

I cannot help but exhale audibly.

“But the vegetables we do have?” Berendir kisses his fingertips. “Nothing like the tasteless mush you serve on Earth.”

“But our sweets are even better.” Daerios picks up the cake on his tray. “Have you ever tried one of these,Quinn?”

I don’t even glance at his hand as I answer; I’m too relieved I’m not being dragged to elvish prison. “No.”

“Do you even know what it is?”

“Yes,” I say without thinking. “It’spaal—a traditional honey cake served at elvish celebrations.”