Page 27 of Prince of the Sun

With perfect calm, I say, “I just iced you.”

The bus falls silent. Not even Berendir speaks. A human girl just pulled a prank on the most famously unhinged prince in the elvish royal family. And I’m staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to get down on one knee and chug.

This is a challenge. Daerios knows it is.

Without another word, he flicks his thumb up and unhitches the bottle’s cap. He drops to one knee in the aisle, bends his neck back, and guzzles every last drop of Smirnoff Ice in under six seconds. He does it all without once breaking eye contact.

If this bus were filled with humans, this act would be followed by resounding cheers. But because this bus contains only elves, silence greets Daerios as he stands back up and tosses the bottle over his shoulder. He steps back into our aisle and grabs my wrist, gently pulling me to stand before him. Our chests are less than an inch apart. His rises and falls with surprising shallowness.

Eyes still locked on me, he reintroduces me to the bus. “This is Quinn Kallister,” he says. “The human who bested the Prince of the Sun.”

We arrive at Endicott Estate an hour later. Our bus glides up a long driveway situated on a vast stretch of green, ringed by spruce, elm, and weeping willows. We come to a stop outside what I can only describe as an old school mansion.

I stand, and thenirugoes straight to my head. It’s not that I’mdrunk—Daerios and I split the bottle, and he drank significantly more than I did. The guy is like a living funnel. But the thing is, I don’t drink often. Too much spying and homework to be done.

I tried to keep my sips small. I’m on a mission tonight, and I need my head on my shoulders. But when I took my first drink—wow. Niru is delicate and fizzy, cool as a bottled summer breeze. It wet my lips, bubbled gently down my throat. I instantly wanted more.

“Good, right?” Daerios had asked when he saw my expression.

I’d bit the inside of my cheek. Itwasgood.

Not that I was going to say that out loud.

We step off the bus, getting our first proper look at the estate.With bay windows, a wraparound fenced-in front porch, and no less than five different chimneys, the structure looks straight out of an East Coast luxury getaway magazine. As Daerios explained on the ride over, the Ikarith has held their annual ball here every year since 1873. After the elves took over the final club, they changed the club’s original name, but they kept this tradition.

“Why?” I’d asked. “Why not change over to something more elvish?”

Daerios had lifted his eyebrows in amusement. “What, exactly, would that entail?”

“I don’t know. More, you know, slinking through the woods. Writing on old parchment. Flirting with mermaids.”

At that, Daerios had actually laughed.

When we reach the grand staircase leading up to the porch, Daerios offers his hand to lead me up. I ignore it, lifting my skirt and smiling sweetly as I stomp past of him.

Inside, Endicott Estate is all dark wood and ornate rugs, worn paintings and marble fireplaces. Velvet-covered bars serve vodka sodas andniru. Elves float through the maze of rooms, voices low, plastic glasses cupped in their svelte fingers. An elvish band is setting up in the ballroom, their movement near-silent despite the fact that their instruments are made all of wood and metal. The curtains are drawn to reveal fires burning out on the lawn.

“Spooky,” I say drily.

Daerios, removing his jacket, raises an eyebrow. “That’s not quite the word I would use.”

To the left of the entrance, two long tables are laden with elvish delicacies. I recognize many of them from the dining hall: candied nuts, ripe fruit, honey cakes. Baskets of flakyvaaskabread. Pastry cups filled with herbs and shallots. And, right in the center, ringed by shining vegetables, an entire roast venison.

“Are you hungry?” asks Daerios.

“No,” I say.

“Oh.” He pauses. “You ate dinner, then?”

“Yes.”No.

“I see. What did you have?”

I narrow my eyes. “What is this, an interrogation?”

“I’m simply asking.”

“I had enough.”