The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(5)

“We’re not fucking stupid,” Bash says.

“Of course not. You’re my son and I want you to come home where you belong.”

Kas stands beside his twin. “The fae palace is no longer our home.”

“I can change that.” Tink starts down the nearest path. “I have asked your sister to revoke your banishment and return your wings to you. It’s the least we can do to show our goodwill.” She stops in the middle of the path and looks at us over her shoulder. “Let’s unite Neverland and stop the fighting. That’s all I want now. Come home, my dear sons. The palace is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Wings glowing in the murky, snowy daylight, she takes flight, disappearing around the next bend in a cloud of fairy dust.





4





BASH


My eyes burn as I watch her leave, my twin standing just as still beside me.

We can’t seem to look away.

Is it real? Kas asks.

If it isn’t, it’s the best illusion I’ve ever seen.

Would our dear sister stoop so low? To trick us with a mirage of our own mother?

My heart is racing, my hands shaking. I can’t ignore the pressing weight at my sternum, driving me to do something. But what? What the fuck do we do with this?

If she’s real, how? How is she back?

I don’t know if I’m pissed or sad or bitter or awed or maybe all of those things. Maybe my emotions are like a bowl of Nana’s soup, all the leftover vegetables from the end of the harvest. Diced up, pureed, stirred and stirred and stirred.

Nana hated our mother. Back then I thought it was a normal thing for mothers and grandmothers to have a rivalry. After all, they were both supposed to love my father, and vying for the affection and attention of the king was no strange thing to me.

But now I realize Nana hated Tink because she was a cold-hearted bitch.

Nana hated Tinker Bell because Tinker Bell didn’t love my father. She used him.

Was she always like that? Sometimes I wonder what my mother was like before she lost Peter Pan and lost her fucking mind.

And now…

When the golden glow of Tinker Bell fades into the distance, I finally turn and check on Pan.

His gaze is caught on the same fixed point, but his attention is much farther away.

Visceral pain is etched into the fine lines around his eyes.

Mother may have hated most people and she may have given love like stones give blood, but there was always one person who made her seem like she had a heart.

A little part of me had always been envious of him because of it. What did he have that we did not, her own flesh and blood? Kas and Tilly and I were just more pawns in her games. Move us here. Move us there.

But Peter Pan…if we were her game pieces, he was the prize.

And how does she feel about him, now that she’s alive? After he killed her?

This is bad.

This is very bad.

What the fuck is the lagoon doing, and why the fuck is it doing it?

First Balder and now Tinker Bell.

I make my way back up the stairs and into the house, crossing the loft. I stop at the bar and reach over it, grabbing a bottle of the closest whisky. It’s an apple blend from the mortal world with a green label and a golden cap. It’s not the best, but it will do. I overturn an empty glass, pour two fingers of the liquor and sling it back.

The sweetness coats my tongue first, then the fire burns down my throat. When the liquor settles in my gut, some of the emotions untangle, and I can finally make sense of them.

Anger prevails.

Kas comes up behind me. “Pour me one.”

I oblige and hand it over. He quickly downs it and breathes out in a hiss, running the back of his hand over his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

Winnie and Vane file in behind us, then Peter Pan.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost. A living, breathing ghost.

Everything is about to change.

Fucking everything.

“It’s clearly a trap,” Vane says and waggles his fingers at me to pour him a drink too. I line up several tumblers on the bartop and fill them with a messy glug of liquor.

“Of course it’s a trap,” I answer and hand him off a glass. He drinks half of it back. His hair is a mess, several dark strands hanging over his forehead and in front of his eyes. Even though he lost the Darkland Dark Shadow and now has the Neverland one, his eye still bears the old scar from the Darkland shadow, three deep cuts over his right eye, the eye entirely black.

He may still have the scars, but he has changed. I’m just not sure how yet. Or what it means for us.

Now he shares something with Darling that the rest of us don’t, and I can’t tell if it’s gone to his head yet. He’s always been an arrogant prick, anyway. Maybe I won’t notice if he’s more of an arrogant prick.

Darling stands at the edge of the room, arms crossed over her chest. She hasn’t said much yet. What the fuck is there to say? My mother killed her ancestor all because she loved Peter Pan.

Darling loves Peter Pan.

I love Darling and so does my brother.

Tinker Bell has to go. She must be plotting already. She’s probably at the palace— “Shit,” I blurt out. “Tilly.”

Kas’s dark gaze cuts to me, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed like Darling’s. They are the most alike, if I had to put us all on a measuring stick. Kind and soft and gentle on one end. Brutal and vile and wicked on the other. My twin can be brutal, but he prefers to be gentle if he can get away with it.