Page 145 of Caging Darling

We’re halfway across the courtyard, when a whirl of shadows soar out from behind the nearest turret, straight for Tink.

Peter lands at the same time his shadows coalesce, forming shackles around her wrists, confiscating the knife and bringing it to her throat.

“No, Peter,” I say as he yanks my friend away from me.

Peter pulls Tink’s back to his chest as she wriggles in his arms. There’s something about his touch that incites more fear in her than just the knife to her throat, and for a moment I wonder if Peter’s flesh against her skin is the velvet against mine.

Anger rolls up within me, but I have to contain it, have to…

The Nomad flinches, but he regains his composure quickly enough. “You’re aware that if you don’t give her back to me, your Darling little possession, as you like to call her, will die.”

Peter laughs, the sound manic as he looks around Tink’s shoulder, the blade pressed against her throat. “Then both our darling little possessions will die.”

The Nomad’s lip curls. “I have other streams of income,” he says, meaning he hasn’t told Peter about Tink’s vital role in freeing him from this realm. “For you, replacing your Mate will not be so easy.”

Peter cocks his head. “Except she’s not just a stream of income for you, is she?”

The Nomad stares at him. “Are you accusing me of sentiment? Because if you are, that’s quite the gamble.”

“I peeked in your ledgers,” says Peter. “There are notes on faerie dust mills, but no plans. No money set aside to purchase one. Not even a contractor to build the equipment if you intended to make your own. And even if there were, you’d need more than just one faerie to be profitable. But there’s no evidence that you’ve looked anywhere else.”

“Why purchase what I can steal?” says the Nomad through glinting teeth.

Peter shakes his head. “No. No, I think Tink means more to you than just her dust. You forget, she belonged in my bed first. You forget the secrets lovers will share with each other when they have the voice to do so.”

The Nomad’s hand taps against his side. Otherwise, he remains perfectly still.

I glance at Tink, and there’s desperation in her eyes. But she’s not afraid of the knife at her throat. Her gaze is transfixed on the Nomad, an insect caught in a web, paralyzed by the sight of a spider as it approaches.

“Remember when I found you,” seethes Peter into her ear. “At that awful circus, a slave in a cage. But there was a part of you that was difficult to persuade to leave. It took so much convincing on my part. I couldn’t understand why you wouldwant to stay there, in that dirty, awful cage. But it wasn’t because they kept you in, was it? It was because of what they kept out.”

Tink’s face blanches, but she doesn’t give Peter a reaction. Not when she can’t take her eyes off the Nomad.

Not for the first time, I wonder why Peter hunted Tink down so that her voice could be used to seal Neverland in place, keep it from unraveling. Why her? Why Tink’s voice?

And why does the Nomad need her to escape this realm?

“So no,” says Peter. “I can’t replace my Mate. But you can’t replace this one, either, can you?”

The Nomad’s face loses its smirk. The pleasant but terrifying facade has been shed, and now there’s only grim determination in his eyes. A promise of death if Peter hurts what is his.

“I suggest you let her go,” says the Nomad.

“Release Wendy from her bargain with you,” Peter says.

“That’s not how it works,” I say.

The Nomad slowly turns to look at me. “Is that what he told you? About your bargain?”

I face Peter. It’s not pain I feel at his betrayal. At least it’s not pain because he betrayed me. More pain at myself for, yet again, believing a lie that came out of his mouth.

The night I’d slept with him, he’d told me he’d wished he could remove it. That he knew it was keeping me from loving him completely.

“You lied to me,” I say, and I can’t bring myself to sound surprised. Just disappointed.

Disappointed that all this time, he could have let me go. I could have spent my time manipulating him into setting me free. I thought I knew the game we were playing, but he’d neglected to tell me the rules.

I frown, glancing back and forth between them. If Peter had just let me hand her over, there would be no bargain binding me to the Nomad.

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