Page 18 of The Night Prince 2

Is it worth risking this at all? I could just keep to the shadows. Go out only under the light of the moon and stars. It’s what I love most in any case. The night is mine. It always has been.

But then, for a moment, he saw Aquilan’s face in his mind’s eye. The glorious fall of honey-colored hair. The blue eyes that were as deep and vast as the ocean. The creamy skin tinged with gold. For a moment, he imagined Aquilan laying back on a divan under a flowered-covered bower. His chest was bare. His limbs were loose and languid. Sunlight–golden and liquid–poured down upon him. He extended a hand to Declan.

“Come,” he mouthed. “Come.”

It seemed he said another name–not Declan–but the name was lost. The Sun King’s eyes were heavy-lidded. His crimson and white robes parted over his spread thighs. Just a slight movement more and they would hide nothing.

“Come to me,” Aquilan’s voice whispered.

I cannot ever get to him if I stay in the dark. And he is mine. Mine…

And it was that, that thought, the thought of the Sun King that had Declan turning and going into the light. He grasped the handles to the patio doors and threw them open. He stepped out into full sunlight and thrust back his hood so that the Sun hit him full in the face.

I do this for you.

For you.

Sunlight flooded him.

It was so bright, he could only see gold.

“You’re here,” Aquilan whispered in the wind.

“Declan? Declan? Are you all right?” It was Shonda’s voice that reached him. A real voice. Not imagined. Not wished for. Not… whatever that had been.

He blinked and slowly his vision returned. Shonda and Michael were seated at the outside wooden table. Shonda wore an emerald green silk robe over white cotton pajamas. Michael was in dark blue silk pajama pants and matching robe. There was a pot of tea on the table and two mugs. Half a dozen slices of toast, sweet cream butter and sweeter strawberry jam were also set out. They were both staring at him with wide eyes. He could imagine the picture he made. His arms outstretched. His head thrown back. His lips parted.

“Declan?” Michael suddenly roused himself from his shock and came towards Declan with raised hands. “The Sun… you shouldn’t…”

“I’m fine,” Declan said.

The sunlight was full on him. His head was exposed to it. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket to his elbows. He turned his right arm back and forth, watching as the sunlight played over his skin.

There was no pain.

There was no sense of queasiness.

There was no weakness.

Just pleasant warmth.

In fact, he was starting to sweat in his jacket.

“I’m fine,” Declan repeated, not quite sure he believed it.

I can come to you, he murmured in his mind.

And it was then that he realized the Adiva was still cool against his skin. It wasn’t electricity, but cold that represented the magic. He remembered feeling cold inside of him when he fought Vulre…

When? I mean if… if…

“You don’t feel ill?” Michael asked as he put a hand on Declan’s left shoulder.

“No, I’m quite well. I’m quite…” Declan stared around the garden. “I’ve not seen this in daylight.”

Shonda shifted around and looked at the garden that was filled with blooms. There were stone paths that curled their way around the flower beds. The vibrancy of colors was almost overwhelming. Reds, purples, yellows, oranges. He blinked and looked away. While the Sun wasn’t overcoming him, his senses were. The sunlit world was still very bright and almost raucous.

“Come sit down, Declan. Have some tea and toast with us,” Shonda said.

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