“If the Whittakers have hurt Michael, they die. I don’t care what I told the Nomad,” says Peter.
I can’t help but find some amount of comfort in that.
“Are you ready for this?” Peter asks.
“No,” I say, without having to think about it. This isn’t a conversation I want to be having with Peter. I want to have it with Astor, but Peter’s ear is the best I’m offered in the moment. “I don’t want to betray my friend.”
Peter adjusts his broad shoulders, covered with a thick wool coat to stave off the cold. Whether his discomfort stems from the fact that I care for the woman he tricked and enslaved, or the general concept of betraying friends, I’ll never know.
“Tink wouldn’t want you to die for her,” says Peter.
“Is that how you justified sacrificing her for the Lost Boys?”
Peter stares at me for a long while. When he’d first realized what I’d done in getting the Lost Boys off of Neverland, he’d been furious. As obsessed as he is with keeping me, I’m not sure that he’s ever truly forgiven me for taking away the childrenhe considers his family. Though it’s difficult to tell, considering Peter has coped by simply acting as if they never existed at all.
“It is,” he says. “And I’d make the same decision to protect them.”
“A lot of good her sacrifice has done them,” I say.
Peter’s jaw stiffens, and guilt pierces my stomach. Again, I’m confounded by the hurt Peter feels for the children. I forget sometimes that he practically raised them in the orphanage.
I find myself relenting, but not completely. “If I die, it will be my own doing, not Tink’s. I’m the one who made the bargain. I’m the one who put my life up as collateral for hers. You might have turned Tink over for a good cause, but I didn’t. My terms weren’t worth it. You didn’t even want your curse broken. Yet I was so convinced you and I could be happy together if it was.”
I watch my words land. Watch Peter’s expression distort. I don’t even get the same satisfaction that I once did from it. I can’t bring myself to care if Peter hurts. His pain is irrelevant.
It’s the betrayal I know I’ll find in Tink’s face that haunts me.
“I’m so afraid of losing you,” says Peter.
I glance up at him, shocked by the genuineness in his tone. And for a moment, I feel pity for the man who is too blinded by his own fears of the future to realize it’s the past that’s already stolen his heart’s desire out from under him.
CHAPTER 47
Afootman sneers at us from behind the window of a small outpost outside the gate.
“The Whittakers aren’t expecting guests today,” he says.
Peter keeps his hand bunched around my collar, the gesture perfect for steering me. I’ve had my face buried in my hands, but I peer through my fingers, looking hopeful at the idea we might not be let in.
The footman glances at me, more disgust than pity in his eyes, though this at least tells me my acting is convincing.
“This girl is with child. I’ve been informed the Whittakers can help with that.”
The footman’s brows lift. His gaze dips to my belly, and when he finds no evidence of a child coming anytime soon, his brows fall, narrowing. “Then come back when it’s here.”
Peter, who’s not currently sporting his wings and whose hair covers his ears, shakes his head. “We can’t afford to have her be found out.”
“Then perhaps you should have thought about that before you slept with your maid, sir. If you didn’t wish to have an illegitimate heir, you should have kept to your wife.”
Peter does an impressive job of letting his face flush with rage, as well as the assault to his character.
I school my expression. Distraught and hopeful.
“I demand you allow us entrance,” says Peter.
“It doesn’t seem you’re in the position to make demands,” says the man. “Pay the girl well and throw her out on the streets.”
“I’m prepared to pay for the girl’s room and board. A hefty sum,” Peter says. “Will your master be pleased with you when he discovers he could have been paid for a healthy baby, rather than have to pay for one from a diseased whore on the streets? How much money does he throw away a year for children who have contracted diseases?”