His shadow pulses in time with the magic in his chest.
“Did you know they rejoiced in the streets upon your death, Peter?”
The Aeternalis goes perfectly still, like a lion poised to strike.
“I know your affinity for revels, of course, and the one they threw upon your demise, well…it was one to be remembered. They danced for five whole days and five whole nights, if you can believe it.” I finish my drink, setting it softly on the table. “A week straight of worshipping the very ground I walked on. Sobbing in gratitude, begging to allow them to build me monuments and palaces.”
I meet his gaze fiercely. “All for the simple act of guttingyou.”
Dropping my eyes to examine my fingernails in a bored manner, I add, “They needn’t have bothered of course. I was more than happy to kill you for free.”
My wink sends a furious shiver vibrating through him, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll drop the false civility and attack me. Instead, he sinks into the chair opposite me, staining my furniture with his filth. As if noticing my annoyance, he smirks and wipes his bloodied hands across the velvet.
“How have they welcomed you, Peter? I’ve seen no parades, no acolytes worshipping at your feet, but then again…I’ve been busy. Perhaps I missed them.” I absently finger the hilt of the revolver tucked into my waistband. “I imagine it would be difficult.”
“Whatwould be difficult?”
I meet his gaze once more. “To walk through your own creation and be entirely alone.”
The Aeternalis scoffs, tipping back the contents of his own tumbler. “I have no need of the love of the masses, Nikolas.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” I muse thoughtfully. “Only your own love. Isn’t that what kept you safe all those years?”
I don’t miss the tightening of Peter’s fist. An infinitesimal twitch of his fingers, hardly noticeable to most observers. But I grew up in the darkness of this man’s shadow. I learned to read his every emotion, down to the tiniest details, in order toprotect myself. So, I see it—the fury I’ve unleashed inside him by alluding to his one weakness.
His eyes are wild and dangerous as they rake over me, disgust and rage radiating from him. My death responds in turn, pulling and pulling, even as I wrap it tighter around my wrists. It opens wounds in my skin, slices through my lungs and steals my breath. It wants what has been stolen; hungers for that which is rightfully ours.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Pan says lightly after a moment.
“What you and I find funny has always been vastly different, I assure you.”
His mouth twists, but his eyes are fervent as he continues, “Only the most pathetic of my Strayed could ever have possessed enough self-hatred tolovetheir torturer…those too weak to do anything with my fatal flaw if they were ever stupid enough to discover it.”
The magic in his chest glows brighter.
“I admit, I had so muchfuntesting the boundaries of affection before a child lost their magic. And you, Nikolas…you were such an adventure. So easy to break…over and over. Your magic tricked everyone else into believing you were strong, but I could see what lay beneath it. That tender heart of yours that drove you to crawl back to my feet each time, hoping it would be different.”
Outside, the winter wind howls against the windows. The Indomnitus rocks beneath us, but I don’t dare take my eyes from the Aeternalis.
“It was my folly,” he admits, though there is no contrition in his voice. Only cold vengeance. “It’s such a delicate line between fear and love. It takes talent to understand how to break someone to fit beneath your boot rather than breaking them into pieces that will stab you in the back. I misjudged the pitiable elasticity of your heart.”
Once, his words would have shamed me. I spent centuries abhorring the heart in my chest and the places it led me, but no longer. Not now that I have found why it beats.
Elastic does not easily break. It stretches and thins. It fits itself around others, wrapping them tightly.
There is strength in that.
“Your fear of hearts…just like your fear of death…has kept you from ever understanding them, Peter.”
“A god fearsnothing,”he snaps.
I laugh lightly, as a wave crashes against the keel and the Indomnitus lilts sharply to the side. I relish the Aeternalis’ discomfort, the way his body tightens against the sway of the ship instead of rocking with it.
He isn’t made for the sea as I am; it is mine, just as everything else on the island. The thought is a steady flame in the depths of my soul.
“You thought you were safe from me, because you assumed death is too terrible to love anything but an end. And in your ignorance, you forgot the purity of it.”
Peter’s eyes flash. “There is nothingpureabout your magic. Nothing pure about decay and rot!”
