Page 94 of Prince of the Sun

“Oh, shit,” Cara says from one branch over.

“No kidding.”

Both elves fight with a spear in one hand and a saber in the other. They position themselves back to back, protecting each other while taking on the five beasts surrounding them. They jab and parry, moving about the clearing with preternatural grace and in perfect sync with one another. While Daerios stabs an urrath through the heart, Berendir uses a saber to slice open one of their throats. Ber might be far goofier than I could ever have imagined before I met him, but the rumors of his deadliness are true; I’ve never seen someone fight with such bloodlust in their eyes.

Neither Cara nor I fancy the idea of sitting in this tree and doing nothing. We shift our bows around and pull one arrow each from the quiver tucked between us. Cara nocks hers and glances up at me. “Ready?”

I nod. We lift our bows and begin to shoot.

It takes a few tries to get our aim right. We shoot away from the boys, knowing that we’re just as likely to hit them as one of the beasts. Most of our arrows lodge themselves in grass or trees. Cara is the first of us to actually hit an urrath. When she does, she leaps from the branch and does a quiet victory whoop.

The fight proceeds smoothly, after that. The boys make quick work of the urrath down on the ground, while Cara and I manage to take out two or three from above. We’re down to the last threedemons,soclose to victory, when the claws strike me.

I have no idea where they come from. I scream, tumbling out of the tree and hitting the ground hard on my left side. Whatever attacked me—a skria, most likely—caws deafeningly before swooping back up into the sky. I groan, using my right arm to push myself off the ground.

In seconds, Daerios is at my side, crouching over. “Are you all right?” he asks, panic causing the words to stumble on their way out.

I look up, ready to tell him that I’m fine, when I see an urrath crouch low and leap toward his back. I point and yell, “Behind you!”

Daerios whirls, lifting his spear just in time to skewer the beast through the heart. It falls to the black grass, lifeless. The prince spins back around and crouches beside me. The whole thing happens so quickly it’s as if the beast was never even there.

“Quinn.” He touches my shoulder gently. “Tell me you’re all right.”

Instead of responding, I raise my bow, pull back on the string, and shoot three arrows at an urrath pouncing toward Daerios. Two of the arrows find purchase, but the beast still manages to sink a few of its teeth into Daerios’s back, tearing off a bit of flesh before it falls to the ground, dead.

Daerios cries out, stumbling forward, and my heart leaps up into my throat. “No!” I grab his shoulders, propping him up before he can hit the ground.

Daerios is up as quickly as he fell. He whirls around, raising his weapons and letting out a deafening growl. I want to stop him. To wrap him in my arms. To check his wound and make sure he’s all right. But the remaining urrath are closing in, and our only chance at getting out is if we all fight.

So we do—Daerios, Berendir, and me on the ground, Cara shooting from above.

It doesn’t take long to finish them off. Daerios’s wound must not be too serious, because he fights just as fiercely as before. Perhaps even more so. He fights with teeth bared, a newfound venom glistening in his eyes. I catch myself gaping at his catlike speed and stunning precision, a jaguar dressed in elvish clothing.

When there is only one urrath left, Berendir lunges, but Daerios gets there first. He roars with fury as his saber swipes through the air, slicing the beast’s head clean off its shoulders. The head falls to the ground, rolling a few feet away. The rest of its body slumps over, oozing green blood onto the grass.

I lift my bow and let out a victorious yell. I expect Daerios and Berendir to join, but when the prince turns around, there’s no smile on his face. No light in his eyes. His arms and legs have gone slack. Sweat glistens on his forehead, dampening his dark hair. I wasn’t even aware that elvescouldsweat.

“Daer?” I whisper.

He blinks once. Then his legs give out and his body hits the ground.

“Daerios!” I sprint across the clearing, crouching at his side. His eyes are shut, muscles limp. I press two fingers to his neck and let out an audible sigh when I feel a pulse. “What’s happening?” I ask, scanning his body. “Why is he like—”

My voice dies when I see the spot where the urrath bit him. There are a dozen tiny puncture wounds where its many teeth sunk into his skin, plus the strip of missing skin it tore away. The wounds aren’t particularly deep. They shouldn’t have caused enough blood loss to make him pass out.

But the wounds themselves aren’t what causes my heart to skip a beat. It’s the fact that they’ve turned a putrid, deathly black.

It isn’t just the wound. The black has already begun to grow and spread, clotting atop itself like some sort of horrible fungus.Veins of darkness spiderweb out beneath his skin, reaching around his side and over his shoulder.

Toward his heart.

“Oh, God,” I whisper.

“The urrath’s bite,” Berendir says behind me, voice hollow. “It’s poisonous to elves. We saw this many times when the shadows first took over. Scouts would leave the caves to hunt for food, and if the beast’s teeth so much asgrazedtheir skin, the darkness would infect them. It spread so quickly, and if it reached their heart…”

“If it reached their heart, then what?” I twist around to look at Berendir, who’s on his hands and knees, scanning the nearest patch of bushes. “Thenwhat, Berendir?” My voice rises.

“There’s an antidote,” he says quickly. “They’re called skyberries. Rare, hard to find, but they do grow wild in these woods. If we can get him to ingest the skyberries before the rot reaches his heart, he’ll live. I’ve been scanning the ground for signs of them since the moment he was slashed.”