Page 24 of Prince of the Sun

He turns, disappearing into the tunnel.

I take a deep, steadying breath, allowing myself a few seconds to slow my racing heart before I follow.

“So,” I ask as we walk down Mt. Auburn Street, a healthy three feet in between us. “Where are we headed? To your mysterious final club?” I try to keep the hope out of my voice.

“No,” says Daerios, keeping his eyes forward. “The club is far too inelegant for a ball.”

“Somewhere else in the Square, then?”

“Not quite.” He points ahead of us. Elves stand in a line on the sidewalk, queueing up to board a bus. “We’re going there.”

“On abus?”

“Indeed. On a bus.” He shoots me a sideways smirk. “A bus that will whisk us away for a night of magic.”

“I think I would settle for a night of not being murdered.”

Daerios stops walking. He tilts his head, studying me. “Why would you say that?”

I stop too, turning to face him. I tap my chin twice. “Gosh. Maybe because I’m going to be the only human at a gathering of all-powerful magical creatures?”

“Oh.” His brow furrows, but he shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that. No elf would dare touch a humanwho’s under my protection.”

“Says the lion to the lamb,” I mutter.

Daerios tilts his head again. I can tell he wants to say more, but I turn and keep walking.

When we reach the bus, the line to get on is, unsurprisingly, almost dead silent. If this were a line of drunk humans going to a party, there would doubtless be screaming and laughing and bottles of vodka rolling into the street. Here, nothing but stillness and serenity.

I lean into Daerios’s shoulder and whisper, “What’s the point of going to a ball if you’re not planning to have any fun?”

Daerios snorts, then tries to cover the sound up with his shirtsleeve. A few heads turn to look at us. I shrink into him, wishing I could hide behind his long, willowy frame, but it’s too late. Attention has been called.

The human is here.

A hundred pairs of green and grey irises turn to face me. An autumn breeze rolls through, raising goose bumps through my lace top. I wonder, not for the first time, if elves can smell fear.

“This way,” Daerios says, laying a hand on my lower back.

“I can manage,” I snap.

He withdraws his hand, surprised, and I clench my jaw shut.Focus, Quinn. I’m supposed to be getting on his good side. Not biting his head off.

We start toward the end of the line, but before we’ve made it more than a few steps, a face bearing a shit-eating grin pops up and out of the line. “Well, look who it is!” calls Berendir. “My favorite grumpy human!”

I roll my eyes. “I’m fairly certain I’m the only human you know, Berendir.”

“One oftwohumans,” he corrects, slinging an arm over my shoulders. I try not to cringe away. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you all the same.”

“That was a double negative,” I grumble.

Berendir rubs my hair. “That’s my girl. Here.” He pivots left, dragging me over to his part of the line. “Come join us.”

“Who is u—” but then my voice shuts off entirely, because there, holding his place in line, is Cara.

She smiles sheepishly. “Hi.”

“How did—”