Page 1 of Caging Darling

CHAPTER 1

“How long have you and your husband been married?”

There’s a conspiratorial nature to Lady Estrias’s question. It’s in the way she obscures her painted red lips with an imported fan as she leans toward me. Still, I’m left with the impression I’m not the one she wishes to conspire with. Her whisper possesses that breathy quality, the kind that renders it loud enough for the men to hear. She might as well have puckered her lips and blown air directly onto her fan’s paper pleats.

Across the dining table, Peter’s pointed ears perk at the question. He answers for me. “Coming up on a year. Can you believe it, Wendy Darling?”

I stare at him. He’s quite dashing in the candlelight. An odd choice for lighting a dinner party. Not faerie dust lamps, as is fashionable. Or perhaps they’re out of fashion now.

I’m not exactly up on the current trends.

The glow dances across Peter’s copper hair, giving it a reddish tint I almost never glimpse in Neverland. We’ve only been in Estelle three days, and the sun has already darkened him three shades. It suits him—the contrast with his blue eyes.

He’s all the more captivating for it.

He’s dressed in a charcoal suit he stole from a tailor in the next town over. His ears are on display—the Estriases are the type of nobility who find their position elevated by associating with the fae, so there’s no need for a disguise. To them, they might as well be having a Fate over for dinner. Still, Peter withdrew his wings into his back before we came, shifting them into shadowy tendrils first. He’s dashing, and fits right in with the expensive oak table, the golden place settings, and the heavy indigo drapes that even a hurricane couldn’t cause to flutter.

“Yes, it is difficult to believe we’ve been together for so long,” I say, my smile curving without any effort on my part as I tease, “You’ll have to remind me how you managed to win me over.”

Lord Estrias chuckles from underneath the blond mustache that does nothing to obscure his youth. He’s only just turned twenty. Three years younger than me, though he wouldn’t know it. I spend enough time in Neverland that I’ve not aged in any way that’s noticeable to the naked eye.

My mother would be proud.

“Sounds like there’s a story behind those words,” says the lord.

Peter smiles, and it outshines the candles. Carmine blotches creep across Lady Estrias’s cheeks, blooming past her liberally applied rouge. Another new fashion I’ve missed. My mother’s training has me itching to excuse myself to the ladies’ room and pinch my cheeks. Something twists in my stomach at the delight that sparks in Peter’s eyes at her obvious attraction. But then Peter turns that beautiful smile on me and the knot in my stomach relaxes.

I’ve grown quite jealous in my captivity. If John were here, he’d know the term for that, I’m sure.

“A story I hope my beautiful wife will be gracious enough not to make me tell,” says Peter. “I’m afraid the truth of it paints arather foolish portrait of my character. Though the story turned out well in the end.” His smile falters at that, but only just so. I’m the only one to notice. It’s been a year and eleven months of choosing Peter, a year and eleven months since he called in his bargain. Plenty of time to memorize Peter’s tells.

“Perhaps another drink might swindle the story out of one of you,” says our hostess. A servant immediately appears from the shadows, refilling Peter’s goblet, though he hesitates when he reaches mine.

“You’re not drinking,” says Lady Estrias, staring at the burgundy surface of my wine, taut as the leather head of a drum.

“Not tonight,” I say, a flush creeping to my cheeks as her eyes dip to my stomach, and not in a manner that would only be decipherable by someone who knew her well.

“Well, I’m just thrilled that the two of you have moved in,” she says, after clearing her throat. “Develi is a lovely little town, but Edward and I were beginning to fear the manor next to ours would never sell.”

“I hope that’s not a jab at our tastes,” says Peter. Lady Estrias appears horrified that she might have offended him, but is quickly mollified when Peter winks at her. Her shoulders go lax, immediately at ease in his presence.

“Not at all, it’s a beautiful home,” says Lady Estrias. “All I meant was that with?—”

“With property values decreasing with the halt on faerie dust production, we were sure the only neighbors we’d have for a good long while would be ghosts,” says Lord Estrias, cutting off his wife.

Peter takes a swig of his wine. He stares at Lord Estrias with an amusement he’s hiding behind his goblet. The lord does not appear to notice.

“No need to worry about frightening us,” I say. “The butcher in town already did enough of that, I assure you.”

The lord and his wife exchange a look. Lady Estrias purses her painted lips, looking as if she might explode if she doesn’t partake in the gossip dangling unspoken between us.

“Are we sure this is appropriate dinner talk, my love?” asks our host to his wife.

“Oh, please, Edward. They’ve already been frightened. Might as well put their minds at ease before they pack up and sell the manor, leaving us bereft again.”

Regret characterizes the way the man regards his bride. For a moment, I think I know why, but the way he says, “All right,” makes me wonder if it’s because he married someone he adores too fervently to chastise.

“They’re just stories, of course,” says Lady Estrias. “They don’t mean anything, other than a means for the impoverished to distract themselves from their misery.” Or the rich, I think to myself. “But they say there’s a ghoul here who has a…shall we say, predilection for women of a certain disposition.”

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