Page 103 of Losing Wendy

One that I lose as soon as I let my gaze slip toward the emerald ring on my finger.

“I saw that the winged boy took you on an adventure in the sky earlier.”

My heart skips at the same time a rock forms in my gut. I shove the spoon into his mouth, hoping to shut him up while I regain my composure. His throat bobs as he swallows. Dark stubble flecks his neck, his chin, reminding me of how it felt scraping against my cheek as he commanded my parents to take their own lives.

I would prefer to watch him choke on a piece of boar meat, but that wouldn’t get us any closer to clearing my parents’ names, would it?

“How did you manage to see us from the cave?” I ask, unable to hide my apprehension.

“Well, when you have the misfortune of being chronically poisoned by a pretty girl, you start to entertain yourself by trying to find pictures in the clouds. Imagine my horror when a perfectly good cumulous unicorn was shot through the chest by a pair of lovesick children.”

Something stabs at my gut, but my shoulders relax. I don’t want to think about why I’m glad the captain didn’t hear the entire proposal.

“Why call him the winged boy when you know his name is Peter?”

“Because it bothers you, and that’s the other source of entertainment I’ve found. It’s almost more interesting than finding shapes in the clouds.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to beat a cumulous unicorn.”

The captain chuckles, his smile lazy. “That was almost funny, Darling, but I’m afraid you stole half the joke from my lips.”

An uncomfortable knot forms in my belly, so I redirect. “How do you know Peter?”

“How do you know I know Peter?”

“Because you said his name in the clock tower that night.”

“What night?”

I shoot the captain a glare, and his grin is just as sharp. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? It appears the two of you have grown…” His gaze lingers on the sparkling ring. “Close. Though, tell me, does he give rings to all the girls he steals from their beds at night?”

My fingers flex in irritation. I don’t even rise to his bait. “Only the ones he steals from clock towers, I’m afraid.”

“Mm.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Get an answer from your lover, and I’ll help you come to a more accurate understanding of the truth based off what he says.”

I direct the spoon toward the captain like it’s one of the pointers my tutors used to use. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I wouldn’t hope for anything less,” he says, his eyes silently taunting me. But then he has the audacity to add, “Why the headlong rush into matrimony?”

I chew on the edge of my tongue. “That’s not really any of your business, is it?”

The captain ignores my cue to end the conversation. “Oh,come now. We both know swift engagements are the by-product of only two situations: a significant dowry or a child forthcoming.”

I snort. “I assure you, in this case, it’s neither.”

The captain examines me carefully. “You say it with such confidence.”

I turn my attention to stuffing the empty bowl and spoon into my satchel. It doesn’t matter that I’m not looking at him, though. Even the air around the captain curves into a taunting grin, one I don’t have to glimpse to feel creeping over my skin. “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”

Wooden spoons clank as I slam the satchel into the ground. “Must you always be this crass?”

“I’m afraid I must, given your love life—or lack thereof, as the case may be—is all I have to keep me entertained during my solitary confinement.”

My hands are trembling so hard with my eagerness to remove myself from this conversation, I’m struggling to tie the knot securing my satchel.

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