Page 50 of Prince of the Sun

He held the paper as if it were a stick of dynamite. “I just—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’ll find anything.”

“That’s the whole point.” I stuck my hand out and waved it impatiently. “Now, let’s go turn it in before we miss the deadline.”

And, of course, as I passed the paper in to Sheila, our TA, I thought about the kiss.

Two hours later, working at my desk in my dorm room, I decide I have to say something to him. Anything. A hint, a sign, no matter how oblique.

Quinn: where did those donuts come from?

The response comes almost instantly.

UNKNOWN: Well, hello there, friend.

UNKNOWN: I do believe I’ve found your weakness.

He has no idea how right he is.

Not long afterward, a knock sounds on my door. When I open it up, the person who knocked is already gone, but I find a pink box sitting on the floor with a note taped to the top:

I live to please. —D

My cheeks burn. I peel off the note, crumpling it up and stuffing it into my pocket before Cara can see.

It’s Thursday night, which means I’m lying flat on the roof of the Ikarith, listening to Daerios and Berendir harass the Punchmaster. They’re supposed to be going over the rules of joining the Ikarith, giving the Punches a chance to ask questions. The Terrible Twosome have done most of the asking, the questions turning subtly lewder with each round. When Berendir asks, “And how much time, then, do you think we’ll spend on our knees before we bring the mission to completion?” I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

An hour into the stakeout, a commotion sounds down on Linden Street. Whinnying. Horse’s hooves. Voices extinguish inside as members scramble to determine who is arriving. It doesn’t take long.

“It’s Saechon, Your Highness.”

“I see,” comes the voice of Daerios. “Presumably to see me again.”

“Presumably.”

Light footsteps as the other Punches file out of the room. Then the soft closing of the door, and a long beat of quiet before:

“I assume you know why I’m here.” Saechon’s voice, delicate and musical as that of a child, should soothe me. Instead, it sends chills down my spine.

“Not a clue, brother.”

“Word has reached England,” Saechon says. “You’ve been spotted cavorting about campus with a human female.”

Dread, thick and murky, pools at the base of my stomach.

“Is that so?” asks Daerios.

“It is.”

“What else do they say?”

“They say her name is Quinn Kallister. That she is a skilled linguist who grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota. That you follow her around campus like a lovesick puppy.”

“Now, that’s somewhatrude.”

“You know the rules, Daerios. It is one thing for you to play around with human females in nightclubs. It is quite another to pursue a relationship with one.”

“Is this the part where you give me a lecture about not disobeying Father’s commands?”

Father’s commands?