Page 35 of Prince of the Sun

“Well, who’s the oldest elf you know?”

“That would be my father.”

“How old is he?”

Another pause, this one longer. Finally: “One thousand and forty-four.”

“One—” I sputter, briefly losing my footing. Daerios catches me, effortlessly guiding me back into the dance. “Is that a joke?”

“Not even close.”

“But how can one stand to live so long? Wouldn’t you get sick of it?”

A shadow passes through Daerios’s eyes. “Father certainly hasn’t.” Then his features soften, and he adds, “You find things to live for.”

“Like what?”

“Family, for one. Or love. Or vengeance.”

“And you?” I ask. “What do you live for?”

He watches me for a long moment. Too long. Then his eyes leave mine, tracing the crowd around us. I hadn’t noticed, but the other couples all loop about in strange circular dances I can only assume are Elvish.

“I live for…” Daerios starts, then pauses. He seems to weighhis words. I wonder if he’s deciding whether or not to tell the truth. “I live for diversion.”

I crinkle my nose. “Diversion?”

“Yes.”

“Say more.”

His eyes return to mine. “There are quite a lot of minutes to fill in one hundred and sixty-three years. Berendir and I—we decided early on that the best way to stay sane is to have as much fun as possible.”

“Ah.” Now I understand. “You mean to cause as much trouble as possible?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“But would you disagree with them?”

“In some ways, I would.”

I snort. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve told me tonight.”

Daerios pulls us to a halt in the middle of the dance floor. A couple nearly spins into us, but at the last moment, they change directions—elven reflexes. Daerios doesn’t release my hand or shoulder. Instead, his grip tightens, eyes digging into mine with the same intensity I saw when I caught him watching me dance. “I have never lied to you, Kallister.”

“That’s a lie too.”

Daerios shakes his head. “I might choose my words carefully, but don’t we all? Does not everyone have secrets to protect?”

More than you know.

He releases my shoulder, using a finger to trace the rim of my collarbone. I don’t look down. I’m scared to see his skin in contact with mine. Scared of what it will do to me. “I will never lie to you,” he whispers.

I swallow. “I’ll hold you to that.”

We stand like that for the rest of the song, eyes locked, Daerios’s finger lingering at the end of my collarbone. My chest heaves up and down. As the intensity in his gaze deepens, assomething unfamiliar flares at its edge, heat blossoms at the base of my pelvis. It’s heavy, growing, like the spreading of vast wings. I’ve never felt anything like it.

I step backward. I need to get away from Daerios. Far, far away. “I…” I flounder, searching for an excuse.Anyexcuse. Finally, I settle on, “I need to find Cara.”