The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(11)

The energy in the room is distraught and for a second, I let the emotion mine old memories of a time I had a sister, when I was an older brother who should have protected her.

The queen slumps against the bar, elbows propped on the top. I circle the room. No serious battle has gone on here. The tables are upright, the chairs tucked in beneath them. The tapestries are intact here too, the iron sconces on the wall in place, magic flickering inside of them.

So what has happened to turn the fae queen into a jumble of nerves and distress?

And then I realize there is one thing amiss.

The throne is gone.

I walk up the dais to inspect the space. Spotting illusions is no minor feat, but having just gorged myself, I’m confident I could spot one if I looked really, really hard.

But there is nothing that stands out to me.

Just empty space where a throne used to be.

A throne that bore the mark of the Myth Makers. A secret society known to use dark magic to help install and/or keep people on thrones.

“Tilly,” I say. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

A side door clanks open into the throne room and Tinker Bell walks in.

Well, well, well.

She smiles at me, like she expected to find me here. Listening on the other side of the door, no doubt.

Tinker Bell crosses the room and embraces me, bringing with her the stench of dark magic and vetiver and fairy dust. “Crocodile. Beast. The man of many names.” She pulls back and clasps her hands in front of her. “I remember meeting you on Darkland once. Do you remember? Back then you were known by your true name. Oh, what was it?” She frowns as she thinks.

“Speak my true name and I will devour you whole.”

She lets out a trill of laughter. “Oh, Crocodile, you are so entertaining.” She sobers and lets her wings take her off the floor, so we are the same height.

I look over her shoulder at the fae queen shrinking in on herself.

“You foolish girl,” I say. “What have you done?”

“She did what needed to be done.” Tinker Bell flies to my left, blocking my view of Tilly. “My daughter was unable to rule without the guidance of someone stronger than her. So she and the lagoon resurrected me. The island always gives what those of us need.” She smiles wide, her entire body glowing like a lantern. “And now I’m here to help her fix her mistakes.”

It’s telling, the words a person uses when they speak sharp things.

I don’t have to look at Tilly to know that she’s bleeding, even if there is no visible wound.

And here now is the true sound of a silent scream.

“And how do you plan to do that?” I ask.

“By uniting Neverland, of course.” She lets her wings carry her away, even though she’s only a foot above the ground. The wings are a show of power, no doubt. I can’t fly. Yet.

“I’m sorry, did you say, unite Neverland?” I step off the dais.

Tinker Bell finally stills her wings, setting her feet to the stone floor. She’s beside her daughter but not with her daughter, and Tilly swallows thickly, her gaze distant.

“My sons were always intended to rule,” Tinker Bell says. “It was their birthright. I will bring them home and make them the true rulers of the fae and Neverland, and Peter Pan will have no choice but to follow.”

There is a lot to unpack there.

Too fucking much.

I pull out my cigarettes and put one between my lips, flicking the flame to life on my lighter.

“There’s no smoking in the palace,” Tink says.

“Try to stop me,” I tell her and light the end, dragging in a deep breath.

I’m in the middle of a shit storm and I didn’t bring a raincoat.

When the lighter clacks shut, Tilly flinches and my heart hurts.

“Your daughter is the queen,” I point out. “If you plan to make your sons the kings, what happens to her?”

Tink reaches over to brush the hair away from her daughter’s face, and Tilly flinches. “I’m sure we can find something for her to do.”





7





KAS


Nana used to collect interesting things and interesting people. When I was a boy, she met a young man in Darlington Port named Lafayette who she immediately took under her wing, and who she made stay at the palace.

By fate or determination, he found himself in the Seven Isles having crossed over from the mortal realm on one of the many ships that got blown off course. Neverland was his third island, and he told Nana it was his favorite so far.

He was supposedly one of George Washington’s proteges, and like Washington, he considered himself a Stoic. One of his favorite things to say was amor fati or, the love of one’s fate.

His ship had been blown off course, and he’d left his world and found himself stuck in another and yet, he took it for a grand adventure.

The love of one’s fate.

Sometimes I think about those words.

It takes just one decision. It may seem small at the time or inconsequential. But that one small decision can change the course of everything.

What would have happened to our lives if Pan had never killed my mother? Or what if we hadn’t killed our father in order to protect our sister and our birthright to the throne?

What if I hadn’t gone to bed last night on the left side and instead slept in the hammock? Would I have seen Mother first instead of Pan?