“No, boy,” she shook her head harder. “This is mine. I do not know where your pearl has gone off to, but I promise you that—”
“No!” he snapped and pointed at her throat. “Do you think I wouldn’t recognize my treasure? Give it to me now.” He stomped his foot in the air.
Swallowing hard, glancing over her shoulder, she could only pray that James would arrive soon. This child terrified her.
“No,” she whispered, softer now. “This is my gift.”
Light blazed in his suddenly inhuman eyes and a snarl curled his upper lip. “Tell you what, maiden,” he flipped the blade in his hand back and forth, “you can keep the pearl, if you play a game with me.”
This was a terrible idea; she knew it, to the bottom of her soul. “What game, boy?” She clenched the pearl for strength.
“Chicken. Spread your arms and lay very, very still.”
Fear made her mouth dry and her voice weak and scratchy. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been practicing,” he smirked, “and I want to see how good I am. I won’t hurt you, I swear it.”
“No.” She shook her head, scooting back on her bottom, digging her fingers into the sand as she retreated toward the safety of the water. In the water she was strong, and fast. But the tide had pulled back and where ten minutes ago the waves had lapped at her tail, it now seemed impossibly far away.
“Don’t move.” He sneered, moving so fast that in seconds he was upon her, hands gripping her shoulders as he dragged her back to where she’d been.
She screamed, bucking and twisting, trying to push him off her. But the child was covered in fairy dust and unbelievably strong. He simply gripped her tighter, almost lifting her off the ground. He tossed her none to gently to the packed sand, making her lose her breath.
Yanking a rope from off his belt, he wrapped it around her wrists and then bound them to a rock above her head. Panic threaded through her head, filled her eyes with tears.
“Please,” she pleaded, “release me. You can have the pearl, whatever you want.”
He crowed like a rooster, and shook his head. “I don’t want it anymore. I want to play.” Reaching into a back pocket he withdrew an apple. “Take this in your hand and do not move.”
She tried to curl her fingers under, but the strength of the bindings wouldn’t let her budge an inch.
“Hold this.” He shoved it into her half curled fists.
“No.” She tried to toss it away, but there was no momentum behind her swing, it simply rolled to the ground.
Growling, he grabbed the apple and spread her fingers manually and none too gently. She sobbed. “Release me, boy.”
“Hold it right, or I shall fillet you like the fish you are,” he spat.
Trembling, confused, she bit her lip. “Why are you doing this?”
“Ugh,” he sighed dramatically, “I will not hurt you, wench. Hold the apple, I will throw the dagger and pierce its sweet flesh, that is all.”
“But the blade might tear through my hand.” Couldn’t he understand how dangerous and stupid this was? Didn’t he realize or care that he’d hurt her?
He shrugged. “It will heal. You stole my pearl, I deserve recompense.”
Threat still ringing in her ear, she held onto the apple all the while her jaw shook violently. She didn’t dare move or breathe too hard. The maiden healer could fix her hands if he cut her. Trying to relax through the panic churning through her gut, she held very still.
He sailed into the sky, framed by a shaft of sunlight. She could barely make him out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head and prayed to the goddess that the boy’s throw was true.
A women’s scream pierced the absolute stillness. “Peter Pan, no!”
Snapping open her eyes, Talia saw the world move in slow motion. A tiny fairy flew at them just as Peter looked up, his arm already in the process of releasing the blade. And seeing that come at her, she could no longer hold still. She rolled to the side, dropping the apple.
The silver wink of metal tumbled through the sky and then there was fire.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Talia looked at her stomach with eyes gone huge in her face. Blood welled like a blossoming petal upon her lily white skin.
Shock kept the pain at bay, all she could do was stare.
And then time spun forward.
“I didn’t mean to,” Peter wailed, dropping by her side. “Tinker, help. I didn’t mean to, you startled her. Help her, Tink. Please. I didn’t mean to…”
A feeling of weightlessness took over her body. Talia closed her eyes, she was so tired.
“Oh no,” Tink moaned, “What have you done, Peter? What have you done?”
Talia knew she should feel pain, knew it should hurt more than it did. But it didn’t, and she was grateful. A maiden’s body was fashioned of the sea, and to it her body would return.
Her final thought was of James and how much she loved him. Then she felt it, the water. Her limbs were turning soft and cool.