Page 57 of Prince of the Sun

“We shouldn’t even be leaving campus. We have a project to work on.”

“Listen to yourself.We have a project to work on. Have you even seen Massachusetts outside of the Square?”

“I didn’t come to school here to explore the state.”

“No? Whydidyou come to school here, then? For theeducation?”

To infiltrate and destroy your species.“Yes.”

“Well, let me tell you something, Quinn. An education without experience is no education at all.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He leans closer. “It means that it’s time you get outside of your little bubble and see what the rest of the world looks like.”

We’re locked in a staring contest. I don’t want to think that what Daerios said is true. Don’t want to admit I’minexperienced, but—but there is something strangely tempting about climbing atop that horse. About letting him take me somewhere new. Over a year at this school, and all I’ve done is study and spy, study and spy, study and spy. And those two objectives still take priority, but—

But maybe, if we go somewhere far away, I can forget about all of that. Just for a while.

“Fine.” I allow a hint of a smile. “Take me on an adventure, Daerios Ariar.”

The ride north takes an hour. We tear down dirt paths and paved backroads, Vorrok leading us through a patchwork of New England neighborhoods. We pass stone chapels, shingled houses, picket fences waving American flags. Human families play out in their front yards, tossing footballs or bouncing on trampolines. All of it is set with a background of startlingly bright fall color—all crimson and honey and amber leaves whispering in the breeze.

But I can take in almost none of it, because I’m tryingdesperately not to die.

Daerios made us ride bareback, as all elves do. When I tried to protest back in the stables that it wasn’t fair to a beginner like me, he’d only smirked and scooped me up, throwing me over Vorrok’s back.

Now, I’m clinging to the horse’s neck in my best attempt at warding off certain death.

“Come now, Kallister, loosen up.” Daerios’s voice is butter against my ear. “You’re missing the whole ride.”

“That would be the point.”

“You’re fine. I promise. Vorrok is more than capable.”

To his credit, Vorrok is steady as a semi. Bicycles don’t scare him. Cars don’t scare him. A semiitselfprobably wouldn’t scare him.

“Any chance your magical elf abilities can just knock me out until we reach Spot Pond?” I ask hopefully.

Daerios sighs, pressing even tighter to my back.

And that right there—thatis the worst part of this ride. Not the bumps and jostles. Not the near collisions. Not the heart-stopping speed.

The proximity.

Because there’s no space between Daerios and me right now. Not even an inch. The full length of his hard chest and abs are pressed into my spine. I feel them flex as he shifts to tell Vorrok to turn or slow down. His arms encase my body. They squeeze me tighter, now, as if this gesture will somehow reassure me of my safety.

“How much further?” I ask.

“Not long, now. Why? Dreading the moment you’ll be out from under me?”

“More like counting down the seconds,” I mutter.

“I heard that, Kallister.” From behind, I can almost feel Daerios’s lips turn up into a smile. “Nobody likes a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I bite back.

But I can’t stop the little voice from whispering at the back of my mind: