And then as quickly as it flared, the heat is gone.
I pull away and stare at my hands. There’s no sign of a burn, no sign that anything at all just happened. Still, I know I didn’t imagine it, just as I’m more sure now that I didn’t imagine it at the falls with Pan—or in the tunnel, when I thought the island would bury us alive.
I stare at my palms for a long moment before I slowly lower my hands to the ground again, wondering all the while. I close my eyes and concentrate on the heartbeat of the island and—
“You play a dangerous game, Young One.”
I startle at the voice behind me and pull my hands away from the ground, tucking them into the soft folds of the tunic I’m wearing as I turn. No bright flash warned me of Fiona’s approach, but she’s there behind me, her bright hair a beacon in the dimming night.
“I’m not playing any game,” I say as I glance over my shoulder, where the chasm stands waiting. It’s not lost on me that we’re alone. The other fairy lights Pan left with me are gone.
She stalks forward, her steps as graceful as they are predatory. “Are you not?” Her voice is as menacing as a swarm of wasps. “What were you attempting, then, with your hands pressed as they were to this world?”
“Nothing,” I say, feeling immeasurably stupid for having even tried. Fiona cocks her head, expectant, clearly unwilling to let it go. “Pan told me Neverland answers those who belong here. I was just trying . . .” But it feels too ridiculous to say the words aloud.
“And did this world answer your call, Young One?” she asks, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“No. I mean . . . I don’t know,” I admit, uneasy under the intensity of her stare.
“Perhaps it would be better for all of us if it did not.” She takes another threatening step forward.
I don’t ask the question I want to ask. Instead, I make myself stay perfectly still as she continues to stalk toward me, almost herding me to the chasm’s edge.
“The one who calls himself Pan has long searched for one to whom this world will answer.” She cocks her head to one side. “One of the Queen’s own blood.”
“The Queen?” I ask, my skin going cold as I take a step back.
“One who is more than human. And less than Fey,” Fiona continues. “One, perhaps, such as you.”
Sharp needles of warning are prickling across my skin, urging me to run, but I have nowhere to go. A few steps more, and I will tumble back into the dark abyss that has already claimed many bodies today. And in front of me, Fiona blocks any escape.
I shake my head in denial. “I’m not any Fey,” I say, curling my fingers into my palms.
“Pan believes so,” she says. “He believes you could be the heir to the Queen’s True Child, the Fey prince she left in your world many ages ago in exchange for the human child who became Pan. He has long heard whispers of this Fey prince and the children he left unprotected, a halfling with the Queen’s blood—the Queen’s power—in its veins. It is why he sent his Dark Ones to find you and bring you to this world.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. Because she’s wrong. “The Dark Ones overthrew his mother.”
“The Queen was never his mother,” she snarls. “The one who calls himself Pan was nothing more than a plaything for her. When she grew bored with his weakness, she cast him out of her palace, banishing him to the farthest reaches of the island. She never expected him to survive. But she’d given him too much of her own power, revealed too many of her secrets.” Fiona’s sharp teeth glint in the night as she sneers at me. “Instead of dying, he found the Dark Ones, and they were more than willing to lower themselves to a mere human in exchange for the opportunity to exact their revenge for their fallen King.”
I take a shaking breath, willing her to be wrong. “But he hates them,” I counter.
“Of course he does,” she hisses. “He hates any reminder that he is not truly Fey, that he is weak and dependent upon our power.” Her mouth curves into a mocking smile.
“But I’ve seen—”
“Only what Pan wishes you to see,” Fiona interrupts, taking a menacing step toward me. “He showed you the Captain’s greatest secret in order to turn your affections, did he not? But Rowan is not alone in requiring the assistance of the darkest Fey to survive in this world. Pan also needs the lives they bring to him.
“This is why he has searched for one of your kind. He thinks he can claim the Queen’s power from your blood, the same as he has claimed countless human lives over the ages. And he believes that with that power, he could rule this world once and for all. Without need of the Dark Ones’ assistance. And with complete power over this world and my kind.”
I shake my head in denial, even as Pan’s words echo in my memory: I’m not trying to find a way out of this world. I would do anything to save it.