“All dead?” She scoffs. “Who told you that?”
I don’t even have to say it. She answers her own question with a sour look. “Peter. That little whoreson will say anything, won’t he?”
I want to rub my face, but that’ll ruin the little touches of color she’s put on my cheeks. “I guess I just assumed it was the truth since I haven’t seen any fairies except Tinker Bell.”
Her face sours even more. “I’ve heard nary a good word about that little beastie.”
“You have no idea.”
“We should have a girls’ night once we’re back at sea. You can tell me everything that slimy ponce Peter told you, and I can tell you what percentage of it is utter bollocks.”
“Deal.” I look down, my heart stinging with a memory, still mourning the last friend I made and lost.
“Coy?” Widow already knows somehow.
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you when I told you he wasn’t real.” Her voice is softer now.
“I know.” I can’t tell her I met with Tinker Bell, not when I plan on finding Geo and stealing the fairy dust from him. But I want to, all the same. Now that I know the truth, I’m ashamed of how I spoke to her. “I’m sorry about what I said.” I take a deep breath and open a small door, showing her a bit of myself I usually keep hidden. “I’m just afraid. Really afraid. My mom, she had a disease—well not a disease that they could diagnose. She lived in her mind to the point that she neglected to actuallylive.” I tangle my fingers together in my lap. “She faded. When I was little, she was present. But she had episodes that gradually got worse until she was just … gone. She didn’t know reality from fantasy. She was lost. She died that way—lost.” I stop when my throat tightens, my emotions trying to rise to the surface.
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “That explains a lot.”
“It does?” I finally work up the courage to catch her gaze in the mirror again.
“Why you sort of went—” She puts her fingers by her head and wiggles them around. “That night.”
That makes me smile. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“It’s not easy to accept all this.” She smooths down a few loose strands, then steps back and checks her work. “People don’t believe in magic. At least, I didn’t. The world tells you it’s all a trick, one designed to part you from your coin.There is no magic, they’d have you think. There is nothing beyond toiling at your employment and going home to supper and doing it all over again for the rest of your life.” She leans down, our faces beside each other in the mirror. “But they’re wrong. There’s a million secrets out there, each one with enough magic to power worlds within worlds.”
Her words are like a bandage on my wounded psyche. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to put the ‘real’ world away for a while. I don’t know if I can do it, but at least I can try. “You know, Widow, I’m beginning to think you have something of a poetic soul.”
She stands upright and puts her hands on her hips. “Pish posh. I’ll run you through if you keep talking like that.”
I laugh and rise from my seat. “Thank you for doing my hair. I like the braids and the way you swept it up in the back. I’ve never had such a pretty look before.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Now go back in the big house and put on your fancy dress. I’m going to get changed, too. I’ve never seen the Guardians, and I’m expecting big things from this Tiger Lily I’ve heard so much about.”
“Oh, Widow. She’s beautiful. Like a model. Seriously. I don’t know where you land on liking girls, but guard your heart in any case.” I pull back and catch the cat-like look in her eyes.
“Now I’m intrigued. Might even rouge my tits for the evening to get more of her attention.”
I laugh and head to the door. “Do what you need to do.”
“See you in a bit.”
I walk through the center of the cottages, most of the pirates inside to get “presentable” as Skylights put it this morning during sparring. Most of the pirates groaned—except Starkey—who began strutting around like a peacock even though Bill had already given him a bloody lip.
“Pleased ter make your acquaintance, fairy princess,” Cookson calls from his spot at the fire.
I turn and stare through the trees to see who he’s talking to.
He lets out a hearty laugh and uses his red kerchief to mop the sweat from his brow. “I’m talking ter you, girl.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. “Aww, thanks Cookson! You look nice, too. Is that a new apron?”
He pats the dark brown material with pride. “Nessie made it for me. I’ve never had something so fine in me life! I only hope my food is up ter Tiger Lily’s standards. I only saw her the once—when she tried ter slit the captain’s throat.” He smiles like it’s a fond memory. “Fierce. It was a shame we had ter leave her on the rock, but she brought that on herself coming after the captain.” He goes back to pouring some sort of glaze on what looks like rack of lamb.
