Page 82 of Prince of the Sun

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Look,” I say, opening them again and looking right at the prince. “We don’t need to fight about this. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve shown me who you really are, and I’m not going to forget it any time soon.” I see a flash of something in Daerios’s face, but have no desire to parse out what it is. “What I don’t understand is why you would disobey a direct order from your father. Your king.”

I expect another nothing excuse from him. Or perhaps a deflection.

What I don’t expect is for the prince to look away from me, locking eyes with Berendir for a brief moment. The two elves hold a short, silent conversation. Daerios looks away first, but to my surprise, he isn’t the one to speak. Berendir is.

“Daer’s relationship with his father is complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Berendir glances at the prince again. “Let’s just say that their ideologies are not exactly aligned. And have not been for many, many decades.”

“Theirideologies?” I repeat.

“My dad is a prick,” Daerios says flatly. “That’s what Ber is getting at.”

Berendir mutters, “You said it, not me.”

“But my relationship to my father isn’t relevant here. Whatisrelevant is that the title to this apartment isn’t even in Lûth’s real name. Father would have to search every building in Manhattan to find us.” Daerios pauses, considering. “I would say we have a week.”

“Aweek?” I swing my legs over the edge of the couch and hunch forward. “This is your big rescue plan? To give me an extra week of life? Splendid. Well done, Your Highness.”

Daerios shutters his eyes, inhaling through his nose. “That is not my plan.” When his eyes reopen, they’ve hardened. His lips pull into a humorless smile. “We’re going to rescue your brother and save Elaërion, Kallister. And we’re going to do it all without you needing to die.”

How many ways can you avoid one person when living in a two-bedroom apartment together for a week?

I am now an expert in this subject, so let me give you the answer.

For the most part, you cannot escape their physical presence, especially when you have mandatory daily meetings on how to rescue your captured brother on a different planet. You can, however, do the following:

Refuse to make eye contact.

Never speak directly to them.

Never say their name.

Eat all of your meals in the bedroom you share with your roommate.

Maintain a minimum physical distance of at least five feet at all times.

On the off-chance that youdohave to speak to or otherwise acknowledge said person, you can simply fill your voice with as much detached malice as possible.

None of us are allowed to leave Lûth’s apartment. It’s toorisky. The King has scouts all over the city; every elf we see on the street, moving like graceful ants from our position twenty stories up, is probably on the lookout. Daerios orders all of our groceries, coffee, and necessities for delivery.

We spend the week training. I toy with the light in my body, making small incisions on my palms with elven steel and watching the beam dance across the walls. It’s almost unfathomable to me, that I have this magic inside me. That it’s been there all along. I can’t think about it for too long, or I start to feel completely separate from my own body, as if it no longer belongs to me. It’s a terrifying feeling. The slits made by the elven knives heal within minutes, but each test leaves me strangely drained, as if I have just run ten miles without leaving the living room.

They teach us archery. The boys buy a cheap mattress from Amazon and draw targets on its center, setting it up against the wall so Cara and I can run shooting drills. Elvish bows may be feather-light, made of sleek wood and hair from a creature I’ve never heard of, but it doesn’t make the training any easier. After two hours of holding my arms ramrod straight and tugging back on a line with virtually no give, the entire upper half of my body shakes.

“An unfortunate necessity,” Daerios says when Cara complains of sore muscles at breakfast one morning. “Our light magic won’t work on Elaërion, remember? We’ll have only our skill in combat to protect you.”

“And while that skill is obviously immense,” Berendir adds, “we’ll still be at a disadvantage. Better that you both train up.”

There are lessons, too. Lectures on what to expect once we reach Elaërion—especially the different beasts of Elaërion. There areskria,gigantic black birds with razor-sharp beaks and talons strong enough to puncture steel. There areurrath,humanoid monsters with mouths like lamprey eels.There are awhole host of other horrors, creatures that sound as if they were made from a child’s nightmare. At night, they sneak into mine, and sometimes I wake up wishing that I had never agreed to go on this suicide mission. But another part of me, the more logical part, knows that it’s far better to be prepared for what’s to come.

But what other choice do I have? If I go along with this scheme and it turns out to be another lie, another betrayal, the outcome is the same as if I’d stayed at the king’s camp. Either way, I die.

I could run, of course. But then I would be leaving Michael to his fate on Elaërion, and that is simply not an option. The very thought makes me want to throw up.

If my mother were here, she’d chastise me for evenconsideringallying myself with an elf once, let alonetwice—especially after he’s already betrayed me.