Peter shook his head. “I only have so many exciting things about myself that I have to dole them out slowly.” He shrugged with an irresistibly naughty grin. “What can I say? I wanted to surprise her.” Wendy blinked in confusion.
Peter’s eyes twinkled as he looked over her face. “In Neverland, I can give flight to whom I choose, but only temporarily. It usually only lasts a few hours, which can make it very difficult—and dangerous. Only the Generals have really mastered how to use it best, and how to sense when their power is waning. It’s unpredictable, which is why I only give it to them, and every once in a while, the Lost Boys. It’s like a special treat.”
An entire new world opened up before Wendy’s eyes. Peter could give flight. How?
He laughed at her face. “Watch.”
Her eyes widened as she watched Peter reach out to Oxley, putting both hands on his shoulders. Peter closed his eyes as his arms began to glow with a white light that snaked up his forearms, tracing his veins with forked tongues. Finally, the lights met each other, and a whirling sleeve of light encased his arms, flowing down into Oxley’s shoulders, where it disappeared with a small sigh into his onyx muscles. Oxley leapt into the air, where he stayed suspended. With a hoot of delight, he swam backward, tipping his feet over his head before righting himself.
“Ah, now that’s more like it!” He reached out to Wendy. “Ready?”
She nodded and put her hand in his large one. Peter tipped his head at Wendy. “I’ll see you tonight at the feast. And afterward, stick around—there is someone very special I’d like you meet.”
“You’re introducing Wendy to her tonight?” Oxley asked with a surprised look. “Well, that will be something to see indeed.”
Wendy’s eyes widened. Peter winked at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you tonight. Wear your pretty dress for me?”
She had started to ask who she would be meeting, but then Oxley was whisking her up through the tree branches. There was a rush of warm air on her face, the vibrant green leaves swayed as they hummed past, and then she was in her hut. Oxley gently set her down inside her room before his normally joyful face clouded over with seriousness. He turned her to face him, her eyes lingering on his striking tribal markings.
“Wendy, listen to me. Peter thinks she’s harmless, but if I were you, I would be very careful of what you say and do around her.” Oxley looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening before leaning in close to Wendy’s face. “She’s very jealous of Peter, and you would be wise to stay away from him when she’s around. Do you understand?”
Wendy nodded. “But . . . why? Who?”
Oxley shook his head. “None of the Lost Boys understand it, and Peter does not like talking about it. I wouldn’t ask him.”
The longer she was here, the more Wendy understood that Peter Pan seemed to be his own island of secrets.
“Ox, thank you for telling me.” The General crouched on the edge of her hut.
“Remember what I said, Wendy. Stay away from Peter in her presence, as much as you can.” He looked forward again. “It will be hard considering he’s quite smitten with you. I’ve heard that fairies were once very powerful creatures. And Tink is, well, she isn’t well. They have a very intense relationship.”
Wendy gasped. “Did you say fairies?”
But Oxley had leapt out of her room already, and all Wendy was left with were a thousand questions dangling in the damp Neverland air. She couldn’t quite believe what she had heard. Fairies? She tried to think of what her mother would say, but she couldn’t even remember her face. She found herself caring less than she should and let the thread of guilt unspool in her mind for a few minutes before the rocking hammock, and her sleepiness, took over.
CHAPTER TEN
WENDY WOKE UP HOURS LATER to a sticky face pressed next to hers. Dusk settled its hushed lull over them, and Wendy smiled, wrapping her arms around Michael, happy to breathe in his sweaty-little-boy smell.
“Hi, Wendy,” he mumbled.
“Hi, Michael.” They stayed in the hammock for maybe another ten minutes, sleeping on and off, enjoying the warmth of being snuggled up next to each other. Finally, Wendy gently pushed him off and began washing her face and hair in the large basket of steaming water that someone—Ox?—had somehow transported to her room. After looking around, she pulled off the trousers and lacy shirt that now reeked of salt and sea and washed her legs and arms, wishing for the proper bathtub back in . . . she shook her head. Back in . . . ? She turned to Michael.
“Michael, where did we live with our parents?”
Michael looked downright puzzled. “We lived in . . .” His face distorted. “We lived in . . .” His lip gave a quiver. “I don’t know!”
He ran to Wendy, burying his face in her belly. “Wendy, I can’t remember Papa’s face!”
“I think it’s something about Neverland that makes it hard to remember. It’s okay. Do remember what Peter said, that when we get back, it will only have been a few minutes, and Mother and Father won’t even know that we were gone.”