“James’s brother,”* Itheelia says.
“Give ear till,”* Hook says, holding my shoulder. “If ye see a black flag flying on a ship with an upside-down flower on it, ye run.”
“What?” I sniff a laugh. “A flower?”
Jem shakes his head at me. “I mean it, Daph. You run.”
I frown at him. “Why would he hurt me if he’s your uncle?”
Itheelia thinks on this. “He’s a funny kind of uncle.”
I toss her a look. “Are any of the uncles in your family good?”
She snorts a laugh. “Apparently not.” Then she nods her head away from the well, back towards her house.
Jem puts his arm around my shoulders, but he looks sad and tense.
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I don’t think he’d hurt me if he knows that you care about me.”
He stares down at me, and the worry in his face doesn’t dissipate how I hoped it would, but he forces a smile anyway. “Aye.” He grabs my head, kissing the top of it. “What kind o’ monster would dae that?”
* * *
* So when Jamison was seventeen but not far off eighteen.
* Which means “aren’t.”
* As in, Captain James Hook.
? Which means, “listen to me.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
“Mornin’，” Hook says, sitting at the other end of the bed, watching me.
It’s been nearly a fortnight of this. It’s funny how time is easier to track here. The days slip by just as quickly as they did on the other side of the island—quicker, depending on how we spend them—but they’re not a blur, and I can count them. Today’s number twelve of these dreamy days that don’t really feel real. Cups of tea in bed, his hands in my hair, my hands under his shirt. A thousand kisses and counting.
I prop myself up with some pillows. “Good morning.” I rub my eyes. “You’re up early,” I tell him with a frown. “What are you doing?”
“Daph.” He runs his hand over his chin. “We need t’ talk.”
My heart sinks into a panic immediately.
I stare over at him, sort of in disbelief that he’s doing this to me—whatever it is he’s about to do. And it strikes me like a bolt of lightning that I was right all along: you can’t ever trust a pirate. And it’s so like a pirate to make me lo—well, I shan’t even say what he made me do. I won’t give him the dignity of it.
I sit up straighter and eye him. “Go on then.” I brace myself for the inevitable blow that’s coming.
“There’s a wee thing on Neverland we call the council,” he starts, and I frown, confused.
Hold on.
I might have gotten ahead of myself.
“It’s representatives o’ the people as well as the founders who are still alive, like my mum and Day and, well, no one’s seen Aanya fer years, but her if she’s about.”
“Okay?” I frown at him.
“I’m on it, and the chief’s on it. Rye and Calla’s dad comes wi’ him.” He licks his bottom lip and squints. “And Peter’s on it.”
“Why would you put a child on a council?” I frown over at him.
Jamison throws me a look that implies he’s asked that question himself. “Because he’s the heir.”
I cross my arms over my chest
“So, well.” I shrug impatiently. “Go on.”
I wait for him to break my heart.
“We only ever meet when there’s something t’ organise. Or a threat.”
“What are you organising?” I ask.
He frowns. “Nothing.”
I blink a couple of times. “So there’s a threat?”
He nods. “My uncle, Daph. I told ye, he’s bad news.” Jamison sighs, rubs his eyes, looking stressed. “Council’s been called. I’ll have t’ go. We’ll make a plan.”
“Okay.” I lift my shoulders, not getting it. “Is it far away?”
He shakes his head. “In the forest.”
I stare over at him, not really understanding his distress about anything he’s saying.
He stands and pushes his hands through his hair. “So get up. Get ready.”
“I’m not going,” I tell him with a laugh, lying back down in his bed.
Now he frowns. “You hae t’ come.”
I give him a quizzical look. “Why?”
“A’m no’ leaving ye until my uncle’s out of these waters.”