Page 91 of Prince of the Sun

“Really?”

“Yes.” His voice is so soft. “It was just after the shadows flooded Elaërion. I told you about Uian, my youngest brother. How we fled to a network of caves and tunnels to escape the monsters that had descended on the palace, but he didn’t make it.” He shifts on the ground beside me. “His death destroyed my mother. She blamed herself for not reaching him in time. So, even though we sent out hunters almost every day to keep ourselves stocked with a steady supply of food, she wouldn’t touch it. Not a morsel. Not when my father begged her to eat. Not even when herchildrenbegged her to eat. She wanted to feel nothing. To lose herself in the fog of starvation. So, she did.”

By now, I’m holding my breath and digging my fingernails into my palms. What he’s saying feels as if it could have been pulled straight out of my own mind. Torn from the pages of my journal in those months following the loss of my dad and brother.

“Bit by bit, we watched her wither away. Turn from a strong, healthy elvish woman into something frail and ghostly. And my father…” There’s a brushing sound that I assume is Daerios shaking his head. “He lost it. His realm had been destroyed, his youngest son was dead, his wife was disappearing before his eyes, and he had no idea how to fix any of it. The healers told him that what Mother needed most was time and compassion, but hedidn’t listen. He hadn’t won the Elemental Wars with time and compassion, had he? He did the only thing he knows how to do: he forced Mother to obey.”

Daerios’s laugh is harsh.

“Threatening her life wouldn’t be enough. He knew that. Mother didn’t care about being alive any more. He tied her to a chair, put a plateful of food in front of her, and then he grabbed me around the chest and held a knife to my throat.”

My whole body goes cold.

“’You will eat,’ he told her. ‘You will eat, because if you don’t, another one of your sons will die.’”

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“At last, she picked up her knife and fork. As she did at every meal thereafter. And to my father, that was enough.My wife is eating,he seemed to think.That’s all that matters.But he wasn’t looking. Not really. He didn’t see the way she pushed the food around her plate without ever putting it into her mouth. Didn’t see her slip cubes of steak into her napkin or drop them onto the floor. Didn’t think twice when she excused herself immediately after every single meal. He didn’tsee.” Though Daerios’s voice is still low, it’s infused with an unmistakable rage. “But I did.”

I want to reach for him. To take his hand or pull him into my arms. To dosomething.

“A month after Uian died, so did my mother. She collapsed to the cave floor, and she never got back up.”

I can take it no longer. I reach across the space between us and brush my fingers against his. He doesn’t hesitate, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly.

He takes one deep, steadying breath. “I blame him,” he says at last. “I blame my father. For not listening to the healers. For treating my mother like a soldier to be subdued, rather than someone sick who needed treatment.”

There’s a lump the size of a boulder in my throat. “Daerios—”

“I’m tired,” he says, cutting me off. “And it’s a long journey on foot tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”

With that, he turns over, and the subject is closed.

I’m lost. In the thirty minutes since I crawled under this blanket, I’ve been confused, aroused, annoyed, and now, absolutely and utterly devastated. My heart is breaking for Daerios. I’m still furious at him, but I’m now also furiousforhim. For the boy who had a knife held to his throat by his own father. For the son who watched his mother wither away. I want to find King Varrith and slit his throat in his sleep. I want to set the world on fire.

How thehellam I supposed to fall asleep?

Not to mention that it’s still freezing. Daerios wasn’t joking about trying to fall asleep in a land cloaked in permanent shadow. Even with the blanket, it isn’t enough. All I can do is lie here and fume.

After a few minutes of this, Daerios sighs. “You’re still shivering.”

“I’m fine,” I snap.

“Are yousureyou don’t want some of my body heat?” he presses, shuffling closer under the blanket. “I’ve been told it’s quite soothing.”

“Who told you that? Some girl in Mykonos who just wanted to sleep with a prince?”

“Maybe.” Dirt crunches as he turns back over to face me. “Most people want to sleep with a prince. Especially this one.”

“Congratulations.” I coat my whisper with a thick layer of sarcasm. “You’re officially the cockiest asshole I’ve ever met.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Now scoot back.”

“No.”

“I’m serious, Quinn. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“No.”