Page 68 of Prince of the Sun

No.“Yes.”

“I meant are you certain about sharing a bed?” A grin sparksat his lips. “Not about keeping our hands to ourselves.”

At this, my face heats to previously-unheard-of temperatures. “I know that. That’s what I meant.” I pause. “I meant, I’m certain about both parts. Obviously.”You sound like an idiot.

Daerios’s grin spreads. “Lead the way, Kallister.”

I do, stomping ahead of him up the steps built into the wall. The fuzzy socks dampen the intended effect of my stomping.

Upstairs, the loft is cramped but homey. The mattress sits right on the floor, covered in a fluffy white comforter and stacked with pillows. I busy myself with pulling a few of the pillows off, then bend down to peel off my socks. Daerios watches the whole thing with suppressed amusement.

“Just the socks?” he asks.

“Keep it in your pants, Ariar.”

I don’t have to look up to know he’s smiling.

I slide under the covers, sinking into the mattress. God, this feels good. About a hundred times more comfortable than the standard-issue twin XL mattress back in my dorm room. Maybe I just shouldn’t go back to campus. Maybe I should stay here, in this bed, and—

Daerios flips a switch that turns off every light in the cabin.

Oh, God.

The covers rustle as he slides into bed next to me. True to my earlier statement, this mattress is more than wide enough for both of us; at least a foot of empty space lies between Daerios and me.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“No.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs. “Shame.”

“Pig,” I whisper, even as my stomach flutters at the idea of scooting closer to him. We settle into our respective places on the bed, but our breathing doesn’t. It picks up, on both sides. Ican feel it.

I search frantically for something to say. Anything. Pressure is building between my legs, urging me toward Daerios. I need to distract myself before I do something stupid.

Mercifully, he speaks first.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

This brings me up short. “What?”

“You know—the idea that there’s one person, and only one, out there in the world with whom you are a perfect match.”

I swallow. It’s just a question, Quinn. Get yourself together. “Of course, not. What an absurd idea. There are eight billion people on Earth; how could justonebe your soulmate? What are the odds of you ever finding them?”

His pillow rustles as he nods. “That’s the logical answer, for sure.”

“What?” My voice comes out harsher than I intend. “You don’t agree? I thought elves were nothingbutlogical.”

“We are. In fact, it’s quite rare for elves to fall in love, or to marry. We live such long lives that, more often than not, we make many friends and take many lovers.”

My stomach lurches at the idea of him withmany lovers, though I certainly don’t say as much. “So, elves don’t believe in soulmates either, then.”

“Quite the opposite.” I picture his thick lips moving as he speaks toward the ceiling. “Wedofall in love, and wedomarry—but only in rare cases. Only when we are absolutely certain that the person whom we’ve found is the one. When it feels as if we will die if we aren’t with them.”

I hear Daerios’s voice in the Ikarith:What if she’s the one?

“That sounds extreme.”