“It can be done,” the fae queen argues.
“Debatable,” I say and circle the room.
“Peter Pan has no bearing on us,” Holt says. “Why would we make him an enemy?”
“Because Peter Pan will defend Vane to his last breath. Which means if you want your shadow back, you’ll have to deal with Pan in one way or another.”
Giselle and Holt turn dour. They knew this was a possibility. Even if Vane wasn’t loyal to Peter Pan, Pan would still have a hard time letting anyone come on his island and start taking power away from it.
I drain my glass and suddenly the brownie is there refilling me. I could get used to this.
“What do you propose?” Amara asks. She’s hovering by her sister’s side. She may be least likely to rule, but sometimes she does tend to cram her head up Giselle’s ass to get on her good side.
The fae queen sets her glass down and folds her hands in front of her. I notice she didn’t touch the wine.
Smart girl. Best to keep a clear head when dealing with a Crocodile.
“Peter Pan has two weaknesses,” the queen says. “Vane and his Darling.”
I come to a stop, a sudden chill crawling up my spine. “There’s a new Darling on the island?”
The fae queen regards me with a look that feels like a secret. “Wendy’s great-great granddaughter.”
I am not a man that lives in the past, but hearing Wendy’s name yanks me back anyway by years and years and years and makes me feel things I’d rather not feel.
She’s dead now. Mortals die quickly on mortal soil after all, but even dead, she lifts the hair along the nape of my neck as if she were a ghost in the room, exhaling on my skin.
If I am endlessly fascinated by women, I was in total awe of Wendy Darling.
She is the only person to ever beat me at a game of chess.
In the beginning, I fucked around with her because I knew Peter Pan wouldn’t.
But in the end, I realize she was fucking around with me because she could.
I wanted to hate her. Even more so when she denied me and told Peter Pan to take her back to her insufferable mortal land.
But eventually I came to respect her for the magic she wielded over me.
There are not many people I would allow to put a collar around my neck.
But Wendy Darling would have been an exception.
“So what do you propose?” Giselle asks. “Use the Darling in a hostage scenario?”
“Threaten Vane’s life?” Holt suggests.
The cool fingers of dread claw into my heart.
I had not intended for this island visit to get messy, but if Holt so much as lays a hand on my brother, I swear to fucking god, I will cut off his hand like I did Hook’s. But unlike Hook, I’ll make Holt eat his. One knuckle at a fucking time.
“You won’t be able to get near enough to Vane,” Tilly says and some of the anxiety eases out of my shoulders. “But the Darling…”
“What’s the name of this one?” I ask and keep circling the room.
“Winnie.”
“She anything like Wendy?”
The queen lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “She’s feisty. Smart, too, I suspect. She did help Peter Pan get his shadow back.”
“The fuck?” Holt says. “You could have fucking told us that before we came here.”
Tilly grits her teeth. I can hear her molars grinding together from clear across the room. She takes a breath and then says, “He only just now reclaimed it, which means if we are to strike against him, the only time to do so would be now, when he’s still remembering how to harness the magic.”
Giselle clucks her tongue. “Or we can forget about the Darling entirely and use our most potent weapon.” Her greedy gaze lands on me. “This is why you hailed for the Crocodile, is it not?”
I stop when I reach the dais where the throne sits in the center.
“Roc?” Giselle asks. “Let’s hear your contribution to the predicament.”
Without an invitation, I step up on the dais and go to the throne. It has a sunburst at its back with vines twinning around the rays. There are insects and squirrels and other woodland creatures cast around it with the arms curved over to look like talons.
When I go around to the backside, I spot a familiar maker’s mark stamped into the metal—wings with a circle in the center.
The Myth Makers.
There are several societies in the Seven Isles older than the cities and villages themselves.
The Myth Makers.
Death’s Hand.
The Ancient Order of Shadows.