“Yes. Amir. I was talking to Amir,” I tell Pan with what I hope is a believable smile. It takes everything I have not to pull away from him.
Pan is still examining the boy. “Why are you not with the others?”
“I was, milord,” he says, his eyes still downcast.
“And yet here you are before me. I wonder why that is?” He motions for one of the other boys to come over. “I think this one has need of some help to find his way. If you’d be so kind?”
The other boy, a tough-looking kid with his head shaved smooth and blood crusted at the edge of his nose, takes Amir roughly around the shoulders and leads him off as Pan turns his attention to me. I give him my best attempt at a smile, but when his eyes go tight, I end up glancing away.
If what the boy said is true, maybe there hadn’t been any attack this morning after all. Maybe the Captain hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t go after Olivia. My breath catches at the thought—at what that would mean—but I force myself to relax, to appear calm, so Pan won’t guess where my thoughts have gone.
“Terribly sorry about that,” he says with an easy smile. “I gave strict orders for my boys to leave you and Olivia be, but they are rather keyed up from our victory.”
“Where is Olivia?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as level and normal as possible as I ignore his apology.
“She was rather upset by the events today, so I’ve settled her into my own chambers. She seems to be more comfortable there.”
“I’d like to see her,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
He gives me a doleful look. “I don’t know if that’s wise right now,” he says slowly. “She’s resting quietly, and I think it’s best if we allow her to recover. I’ve come to escort you back to your room,” he says, tucking my arm around his. “I’m sure you’re quite worn out from all the excitement today.”
“I’ll see her tomorrow, though?”
Pan leads me around a pile of boys wresting over a fur. “Of course,” he says easily as he presses his hand to the far wall. With a grating rumble, the stones begin to move, forming the steep staircase from before.
When the walls of the fortress finally go silent, Pan gives me a pleasant smile and holds out his hand to help me onto the first step. But I ignore him and climb up on my own.
Pan’s eyes are sharp, a stark contrast to the easy expression on his face, but he takes my hand in his and presses his lips to my wrist. “Sleep well, Gwendolyn.”
I pull my hand away and force myself not to wipe off the part of my skin that tingles with warmth. “Will you leave me the steps?” I ask. “I don’t want to be trapped up there alone,” I say as meekly as I can.
Impatience flickers in his gaze, but the serene smile stays on his face. “Of course. You’re not a prisoner here, Gwendolyn. I do still hope you’ll come to think of Neverland as your home.”
“I really think we need to get back to our own world,” I say. “Perhaps Fiona could take us?”
His expression flickers. “I don’t quite think that would be possible.” He doesn’t add anything more, and I know there’s no point in pushing him further. Unless, of course, I want to hear more lies.
“You said you would help us,” I remind him. “You promised.”
“And I will, my dear,” he says, his mouth turning up into a smile. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
They were trapped. Between safety and death. Between what they were and what they might have been. The earth quaked under their feet as fire and brimstone rained down upon them. The boy, clutching his rifle like a talisman, realized then his mistake in believing himself brave. “We’re going to have to move,” his brother told him. “This is just the beginning. . . .”
Chapter 25
BY THE TIME MORNING BREAKS, I’m exhausted. The cloying scent of the flowers, the things Fiona told me, the decisions I have in front of me—they all kept me up for most of the night.
It’s not that I trust Fiona. The only thing I believe completely is that she’s out for her own good. And it feels too unbelievable to think I could be part Fey, but my mom had been worried about something. All night I’ve been thinking, trying to pull up memories of the world I came from, and the thing I remember most is my mom’s fear and conviction that we were being chased by monsters.
Monsters that turned out to be real.
There was always somewhere to go, though. Always another stop that would calm her for a while, and I can’t help but wonder if Fiona was right to believe that someone had been helping to protect us. I can’t help but wonder if my mother had always been right about my father leaving to protect me.