Page 62 of Prince of the Sun

“A likely story,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my bra.

“Listen.” Daerios strides down the dock, laying one hand on either of my arms. “I promise I didn’t plan this trip out here to lure you into some weird backwoods fantasy. I wasn’t even planning on taking you to the cabin. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve ever told about it.”

My arms loosen. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Not even Berendir?”

“Not even Berendir.”

“Why not?”

He pauses. Absentmindedly, one thumb runs up and down my arm. “Every piece of my life belongs to someone else. To my father, to my brothers, to the people of Elaërion. The cabin is…” He exhales. “No one else knows of its existence. It’s the only thing that’s truly mine.”

“Your escape.” I repeat my words from earlier. “It’s not just the lake. It’s a home, too.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re trusting me with this secret.”

“I am.”

A spark of guilt lights at the back of my mind. He shouldn’t trust me with this secret. He shouldn’t trust me withanything.Every piece of himself that he shares with me is another that I will eventually shatter beneath my feet.

But do you really have to?

The voice appears from nowhere, a sultry murmur at the back of my mind.

Do you really have to betray him?

It would be so easy not to. To let this—whateverthisis—continue on forever. Being with Daerios makes me feel both terrified and invincible at the same time, something I haven’t experienced since I left the gymnasium for the very last time. It’s magic.

Don’t betray him, Quinn. Don’t.

I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to.

But I have to. For Michael’s sake. I have to know if he’s still out there. I have to get him back if he is.

But those are Regular Quinn thoughts, and Regular Quinn is still at Harvard, probably bored to tears as she waits in Vorrok’s stall. At Spot Pond, I get to pretend. I get to pretend that I’m justa girl, and Daerios is just a boy, and this is just a rain storm on a dock in the heart of New England.

“Yes,” I say before I can stop myself. “Take me there.”

When we walk inside, the first thing I smell is cedar. As I blink away the rain still smearing my eyesight, Daerios flicking a light switch just to the left of the doorframe, I see why.

Every inch of his cabin, from the floor to the staircase to the matrix of rafters crisscrossing the lofted ceiling, is made of cedar. It seems to glow in the warmth of the lights dangling from the ceiling.

I hand my still-soaking shirt and pants to Daerios. We walked up from the lake in our underwear, leading Vorrok by his reins to a stall built into the side of the cabin, where a garage might be if this were a human’s home. Daerios takes our clothing over to closet door that, presumably, holds the washer and dryer. As he works, I take in the space.

The majority of the cabin is made of an open kitchen and living room, but a set of stairs with no handrail are built into the wall, leading up to high platform that holds an enormous, quilt-covered bed. The loft takes up the entire western end of the cabin, hanging over the rest of the space as if gazing down upon us. The kitchen is nestled behind a long marble island, whichseparates the burners and cabinets from the rest of the cabin. I spy a gas stove, an impressive set of knives, and, down below, a narrow wine fridge.

But the main part of the cabin is what captures my attention the longest. A dining table and L-shaped sofa take up most of the space, the latter facing a wood-burning fireplace made of polished stone. Wool blankets and pillows scatter about the couch. Thick knotted rugs overlap along the floors. All of it is set against a backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the rain-speckled surface of Spot Pond.

The whole thing is—

God. It’s cozy ashell.

Daerios reemerges from the linen closet. “Clothes are in the dryer.”