CHAPTER 64
WENDY
It’s nighttime on the ship, and I’m leaning with my elbows propped on the railing. Usually, I would stare off toward the distance, maybe glance at the stars and chart their path. Tonight, my gaze is transfixed on my palms—or rather, what I am holding between them.
In my hands is the adamant pocket watch, slick and cold to the touch. Moonlight reflects off of its casing, highlighting its curves. I flip it over in my palm—heavy, but not nearly enough to betray the power it contains.
Below, frothing waves lap against the ship, hungry, as the sea so often is.
“What are you thinking, Darling?”
I don’t have to turn around. Don’t have to look to know it’s my husband.
He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in. It’s his hooked hand, the one he used to not touch me with often. But I’ve found that, whenever possible, his hand is occupied. Our child, John, is pressed to his chest, sleeping soundly as he often does after Nolan sings him a lullaby, his voice low and somber. I never heard him sing until John was in his arms, and now he often puts me to sleep too.
I love watching them together. The way John’s face lights up at the sight of Nolan, at any hint that his father has walked into the room. The way Nolan, so gruff and hard and stubborn in so many ways, has become so gentle, so careful, so willing to be molded.
Nolan must have just now retrieved John from Malia. My relationship with the Seer isn’t exactly warm, but after rescuing her and her child from the Sister’s lair, she offered to serve as our wet nurse, at least until we could find another one. It’s not the ideal situation. I still can’t bear to be in the room and watch her nurse the child she ripped away from me, but, for John’s sake, I won’t refuse her help.
“Darling,” Nolan says again. “Twenty seconds this time. Should I be concerned?”
I snap my neck up, realizing I never answered his question.
He smiles at me teasingly. He’s gotten to the point where he often counts the seconds between when he asks a question and how long it takes me to respond.
“I was just thinking how much I’m enjoying watching you be a father,” I say, pushing the discomfort I feel toward Malia from my mind.
“But that’s not what you were thinking when I walked up,” he says knowingly.
“No.” I avert my attention back to my hands and the pocket watch they hold.
“This is the third night in a row I’ve found you out here holding that. And quite close to the edge, I might add.”
I frown, scrunching my nose. “I don’t know if I want it,” I half-whisper.
“It’s part of you,” says Nolan. “Part of your history. What makes youyou.”
I think back to the curse of the library. I’d dreaded it when the apothecary had told me I was cursed to live out the story of the book I stole. Little had I known at the time I already had.
I suppose now I know why Mount Serba transported me into the Youngest Sister’s cottage. Something about the mountain’s magic knowing me must have been the reason my wounds were healed as well. I’ve wondered if my identity explains why I could hear the voices on the mountain that night, but since Victor could hear them too, perhaps it has more to do with our ability to see wraiths.
“Not to mention,” Nolan says, reeling me back into our conversation, “there’s great power?—”
“Inside that watch, inside the shadows, I know.” I sigh. “I suppose that’s why I haven’t thrown it over the edge yet.”
I pause, but Nolan can see where I’m going.
“If you give it up, you think you’ll no longer be able to speak to the wraiths,” he says.
“It’s possible I still would,” I say. “When he was alive, John could see them. And I’m pretty sure Michael can too. I think part of the ability has to do with there being fae in our blood, somewhere down the line.”
“Even if that’s the case, I’ve never heard of wraiths being able to follow mortals away from the spot where they were originally made.”
“No,” I say. “That power seems unique to me.” Unique to being a Fate, is what I don’t say. “If I wanted to see him again… if I wanted to see John…”
I halt my words as my son glances up at me, hearing his name on my lips. I smile at him, and he grins back.
“If I no longer had this power, I’d have to go back to Neverland. Where his wraith was created,” I say. “And that’s not the only way it’s different. Most can only see wraiths clearly when they’re in a state of great distress or sadness. I used tothink that the reason I could see them all the time was because I always seemed to be trapped in that state. But again, now I’m wondering if that was just my power. As one of them.” I haven’t been able to say it out loud. Sister. Fate. Neither seems right.
