Page 28 of The Night Prince 2

Two years?

Or five?

Perhaps even longer than that?

He’d slunk in the shadows during high school, avoiding the Sun as much as possible. He’d actually been glad for their cinder block, dimly lit school building. It had been easier to escape sunlight that way.

No human does that. Only beings from the Under Dark do.

For a moment, his lack of memory from before his adoption rose up before him like some black tidal wave that threatened to swallow him whole. Had his birth parents really died in a car accident in Ukraine? Had his adopted parents really gotten him from an orphanage?

He thought back to some of the conversations he’d had with his adopted parents over the years. One that resonated in that moment was a conversation he’d had with his father when they’d gone stargazing one night the year before the war. They’d sat on the beach together. His arms had been linked over his knees. The waves had whooshed and shushed as the stars had twinkled overhead. The breeze had caressed his cheeks and his eyes had been open to mere slits, just enjoying the night. His father had put a companionable arm around his shoulders.

“You know… your mom and I got you on a night just like tonight,” his father had said.

Declan had turned his head. His adopted father’s handsome profile became visible. He had a stubbled jaw just touched with gray and dark hair that swept back like wings from his ears. His expression had been thoughtful and loving, but a little sad too.

“The orphanage was open at night?” Declan frowned.

That didn’t seem terribly logical to him. Surely, the orphanage would have handed him over during the day. Or maybe there had been too much paperwork and it had taken until evening to complete. That could be possible, he supposed.

His father though had not answered him, but instead said, “There you were. On our doorstep. A little boy with tousled black hair and such sad green eyes.”

Declan opened his mouth to ask, “On your doorstep? You mean the orphanage, right? Or your hotel or…”

But he didn’t ask any of that. Finley would have. Finley would have asked all the questions that he should have asked and more. But words had never been Declan’s friend. Silence was wisest for him. So he had been silent and listened.

“Your mom and I had given up hope that we would ever be parents. Trying for years to conceive and then IVF that never took. Finally, we got the word that we’d never conceive either way and adoption was our only hope. But despite so many kids needing families, it just seemed like we were always being found wanting in some way,” his father murmured. “But then… there you were. And it was as if we’d been waiting for you all our lives.”

Declan frowned as he tried to remember that moment. But his memory was blank. He couldn’t remember any orphanage. He couldn’t remember a plane ride from Ukraine to America. What he did recall was being pushed–yes, pushed–towards his adopted parents on a dark night. A hand at his back. Shoving him. And then, waking up in a sun-dappled bedroom with his adopted parents perched on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep with eyes full of love and amazement.

“I wish I could remember that,” Declan admitted.

His father turned his head and ran a hand through Declan’s hair. There were the glimmers of tears in his eyes. “The accident… you were still suffering. Losing your–your parents–your mother in particular–had traumatized you. I’m glad you don’t remember.”

“I keep trying to hear the squeal of brakes. Or the blare of a car horn. Or the hissing of a broken engine. All the sounds that come from an accident,” Declan admitted. “But I don’t.”

His father merely carded fingers through his hair. “For years afterwards, we were so afraid that you were going to be taken from us. That someone from your family would appear and… but that’s unfair… unfair to you. You should know where you come from. And maybe, you would love your blood family. They would have loved you for certain.”

“It’s fine,” Declan insisted. “I don’t want anyone to come. I belong here. With you and Mom.”

“And Finley?” His father cracked a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re my family. I don’t want anyone else.”

And they’d gone back to stargazing, his answer having put to rest something between his father and him. But now he looked back on that conversation so differently. What if, instead of getting him from an orphanage in Ukraine, someone had brought him to his parent’s house in Lightwell at night? He could well imagine Vulre shoving him towards them, eager to get rid of him.

But why wouldn’t he just kill me instead? Last I remember, he was going to kill me, Declan thought then shook himself. That was a dream. Wasn’t it? He was an elf. White hair. Red eyes. Kindreth. If that dream were true then I should look like him. But I don’t. Yet… it felt real. Felt as true as now. Rhalyf might know the answers to my questions.

It was as if the sunlight was peeling back layers of his memory. It was shining light into dark places that he’d left alone–that he still wanted to leave alone on some level–and revealing all the things he hadn’t wanted to see at the time. The sunlight made him more than physically vulnerable it seemed.

He touched his dark sunglasses and pulled down the jacket’s sleeves to cover the backs of his hands. He then shoved his hands into his pockets just in case. He had the Adiva on. It was chilly against the bare skin of his chest as he wore it beneath his white t-shirt. So he was, theoretically, safe from the Sun. But he really had decided he didn’t terribly like being out in sunlight.

That was until he saw Aquilan step outside of the Dawn.

His breath caught in his throat as sunlight streamed down upon Aquilan’s golden hair. He’d seen that hair in firelight and candlelight. The silky tresses had shimmered in the low light. But there had barely been glimmers of the myriad of the gold and copper tones that were now revealed under full sunlight. Aquilan negligently ran an elegant hand through his hair, pulling it away from his face as the wind stirred it. Though long and heavy, it fell down past his shoulders to mid-back in glorious waves.

He’d been picked up by Aquilan when he’d collapsed in the Sun, but he really hadn’t seen Aquilan then as he’d been burrowing his head into the Aravae king’s chest. Now he saw how Aquilan’s creamy skin had a golden cast. His eyes–a brilliant blue inside–were now like luminous sapphires in the sunlight. His pink, plush lips were the color of roses. They parted slightly as he smiled and began talking to someone who had exited the Dawn with him.

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