Page 78 of Prince of the Sun

“They were tall,” I start. “Pale grey skin, almost white. Like moonlight. Black cloaks with hoods. Black eyes. Long nails. Hair tied into topknots. The spear they used to—” I can’t saymurder my father. “The spear they used had intricate designs carvedinto its length.”

The King gestures to Daerios, who walks over to me carrying a book under one arm, eyes still on the ground. I jerk backward at his approach. He registers the reaction. Pauses, eyes flitting up to me before quickly looking back down. Without a word, he holds out the book and flips it open.

The cover is heavy, faded, like a dictionary that spent too much time in someone’s basement. But the paper is thick and waxen. It crinkles as it turns. It feels old—older, even, than scroll or papyrus. My eyes fall to an illustration that takes up the entire left page. An elf. An elf with pale grey skin and hair in a topknot.

And below the drawing:Zolaë Aldar

I inhale.

“Something like that?” asks the king from his throne.

I look up but say nothing.

“We believe that the Shadow Elves snuck onto Earth, took your brother, and brought him back to Elaërion.” The King pauses. “We believe that, in their effort to thwart our search for the one thing that could save our realm, they mistook him for you—the true Lightbearer. We believe that they hold him hostage there still.”

“How do you know they haven’t killed him?” I ask. “Surely they’ve tested him and know by now that he isn’t the real Lightbearer.”

“We cannot know for certain that he remains alive.” Varith rubs two fingers together absentmindedly. “But I do know the elf who calls himself the Shadow King. He is a cautious sort. Even with a failed test, if the Shadow King believes there is any chance at all that your brother could contain the light that would dispel the dark, he would not risk an accidental sacrifice. He would keep your brother in his clutches, imprisoned but alive.”

My brain chews slowly over this information. “Alive,” I repeat slowly.

At that single word, a helix of tension unwinds in my stomach.

Michael. Alive.

“I would like to offer an exchange,” the king continues, sitting up straighter in his chair. “A life for a life.”

Beside him, Daerios stiffens.

“Sorry?” I ask.

“A life for a life. You give your life to save Elaërion; in exchange, we rescue your brother and ensure his safe return to Earth.”

Wintry dread creeps into my stomach.You give your life.I see myself, strapped to a stone platform in the middle of a shadowy forest, demons snarling in the bushes, as King Varith carves a saber from my forehead to my pelvis. I see light exploding from within me. I see it sweep across the land, expelling the demons and the shadows. And then I see myself again, body a pile of ashes, burned up by my own light.

Dread spreads, leaking steadily out into my limbs.

“You wish for me to be a willing sacrifice,” I say at last.

The King nods. “I do.”

“And if I say no?”

He gestures to the many guards surrounding the clearing. “You have little choice, Quinn Kallister. I will get what I want regardless of your answer. Offering to rescue your brother is purely a kindness.”

“Father—” Daerios begins. It’s the first he’s spoken since I opened my eyes.

Varith waves his son quiet. “Let us hear what Quinn has to say.”

“How can I trust that you’ll rescue Michael? From what I’ve heard, the Shadow Elves have full dominion over Elaërion. A rescue sounds impossible.”

“It would be impossible,” the king says, “under the realm’scurrent conditions.”

As the implication of his words sinks in, I go rigid. Through gritted teeth: “You mean to save him once the shadows have been dispelled.”

“That is correct.”

“Which means that, even if youdokeep your word about rescuing Michael, I won’t be alive to see it. How am I supposed to trust that kind of promise? How am I supposed to trustanythingyou say?”