Page 54 of Prince of the Sun

It all makes so much sense. What is the perfect method of discreet information dissemination? One that reaches across the globe, while avoiding the scrutiny of the masses—unlike a secure database, which draws the attention of every government hacker in existence?

Academic. Fucking. Literature.

Who, outside of college professors, even cares about the stuff?

And elves are sopretentiouslybrilliant, a fact they never hesitate to rub in our noses. Ofcoursewe wouldn’t think twice about their endless publication of essays and dissertations and theses and novels. It’s only natural.

God, they aregood.

But not good enough.

I hop up off the bricks of Plympton Street, tapping my heels together like a child.

I did it. I fucking did it.

Seven years. Seven long years of plotting against the elves, of looking for any weakness, any avenue into their secrets, and I finally did it. I found the crack in their armor. And damn if I’m not going to exploit it. Damn if I won’t find out every last—

“What’s got you so giddy?”

I stumble, almost tripping at the familiar voice.

No, no. Not you. Not now.

But when I turn, it’s him. Of course it is. Daerios. A toothy grin on his face.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” I say, breathless.

“I’m merely happy to seeyouhappy.Friend.”

It’s only at the sound of that word that I remember Saechon and the conversation I overheard the night before.Stay away from Quinn Kallister.Daerios is breaking a rule set by the king by speaking to me right now. Why the hell would he risk that?

“Aaaaand… now you no longer look happy.” Daerios tilts his head, watching me. “Have I done something to displease you?”

“No,” I say too quickly. “Not to worry. I’m just distracted. Mind on a… a project.”

“I see.” He steps closer. Close enough for me to see the swirling pattern of his silvery-grey eyes. “On our project? I mean, I can’t blame you. We didn’t make much progress the other night.”

Heat winds up my neck. “N-no.” I swallow. “On something else.”

“Shame,” he murmurs, raising one hand as if to touch my face, then hesitating. Waiting for permission, for some signal in my eyes.

Shit. This conversation isnotgoing in any helpful direction, and—for God’s sake, I’d almost forgotten—we’re standing inbroad daylight. Anyone could see us standing this close, him centimeters from touching me. What if one of Saechon’s informants is on the street? But all I can think about is how that hand felt when it cradled my ass the other night, when it pulled me into him, rocking me, faster and faster—

Shit,shit. I step backward, licking my lips, which are now chapped from unsteady exhales. “Well. Better get going. Get back to that project I’m working on.” Another step. Another. “Anyway—” Then my foot catches on the curb, sending me sprawling over Plympton Street.

“Quinn!” Daerios is beside me in a heartbeat, arms wrapping around my shoulders to keep me from hitting the concrete. I huff as my back falls into him, hands instinctively reaching up to cling to his neck. He lifts me back to standing, settling my feet on the sidewalk. I should probably let go of his neck. I don’t. “Are you all right?”

“F—fine.” I give him a wobbly smile. “Nothing an elvish prince can’t save me from.”

He rolls his eyes, a gesture that should infuriate me but instead sends little skipping stones dancing through my stomach. Still I don’t unwind my hands from his neck. Still he holds me snug in the crooks of his elbows. And here it comes again, heat spreading at the base of my stomach. His eyes soften as he inches my torso closer, and I can hardly breathe, and my insides are a twisted mess, caught between the lingering excitement of discovery, the warm coil of desire, and the voice telling me to run away before we make a very stupid, very public mistake.

“Do you know the difference,” I whisper, “between bilabial and labiodental phonemes?”

Daerios leans away, forehead bunching into threeincredulous lines. “Did you seriously just ask me a question about linguistics?”

My lips purse. “Maybe.”

His arms drop. He stares at me for a long moment, lips slightly parted.