The Shadow (Second Book in the Neverland Bound Series)

Chapter 7 (Peter)

"Based off of the public address that she gave the people earlier today at the castle, her Highness has no intention of leaving whatsoever," Mrs. Whitmann says and I tense.

"What?" I ask a little harsher than I intend.

Mrs. Whitmann frowns at my tone but answers me anyway.  "Earlier today, the Queen sent some of her men to bring her people the news of her daughter's return to the kingdom.  They also told us that if we wanted to hear the long-lost princess speak, anyone who wished to do so could travel to the palace's city to witness her very first public address.  Of course, the children did not want to pass up an opportunity of going to see the castle, so I took them to see it since it isn't too far off from here.  There, the princess came out and gave her address to the people and nothing about it hinted that she had any intentions of leaving or even that she knew anyone outside the realm.  Of course, the Queen could have petrified her into saying such things, but the girl did seem quite happy to be back and her excitement seemed genuine.  Besides, from what I can remember of the girl she had more of a backbone to stand up to her mother, so I seriously doubt that would be the case."

This new information served to confuse me further and my frustration at not being able to put the pieces together was beginning to build.  I kept it in check, however, when I asked, "Did she give any hints as to where she's been all this time or any kind of an explanation for her absence?"

I see Nolan give me an odd look and I realize that I used some larger vocabulary than I usually do.  I sigh inwardly.  Good grief.  Cat's abduction is putting more stress on me than I thought.

"No, not at all.  Though after seeing you here looking for her, I'm going to guess that she has been with you all this time.  That would explain her lack of aging," Mrs. Whitmann replied.

"Did she give any explanation for that either?" I question.

"No and in this kingdom, you learn pretty quickly not to ask questions of the royal family, especially ones of such consequence.  Most of our knowledge of them comes from our own assumptions, and we never know if they're fact or fiction.  Quite frankly, none of us really care if it's the truth just as long as it keeps us out of trouble, so needless to say we really don't know that much about them.  For example, Queen Morgana has been in power for nearly 90 years and yet she looks as if she hasn't aged since the day she married King Reagan, God bless his soul.  Everyone in the realm knows that our Queen practices magic so we just all assume that she uses it to keep herself young," she explains.

"Can you tell me anything that you can remember specifically about Catherine's speech today?  It may give us a clue as to what is really going on," I ask her and am once again shocked at my choice of words.  What the heck is wrong with me?  I sound like some proper British bloke that should be drinking tea.  And what's with all the inner thoughts commentary?  That's not normal for me either.

Nolan continues to look at me funny, but his mother doesn't seem to notice as she continues in a frustrated tone, "Why in the world would I deem it necessary to remember the specifics of the princess' speech that lasted all of five minutes?  I have a lot of other things to occupy my mind without having to worry about that kind of nonsense."

My patience with this woman is beginning to wear thin when, for the first time in the entire conversation, Ilia says something of some importance. 

"Mother, won't they have it printed word for word in the paper tomorrow?" she asks and her mother sighs.

"Yes, I suppose they would.  You could always go and check in the morning if you'd like.  There should be a boy selling them somewhere in the marketplace in town tomorrow."

I sigh knowing that I probably wouldn't be getting any more information out of Mrs. Whitmann tonight seeing as I have managed to tick her off. 

"Alright, that's great.  Nolan and I will just go look for it in the morning.  Thank you for your help Mrs. Whitmann," I say in a desperate attempt to end the conversation so that I could think on what was said.

She eyes me warily and nods to me in acknowledgement of my gratitude and then says, "You can sleep here in the living room if you'd like, Piper.  Nolan, you can do whatever you like.  And Ilia, you are going to your room to sleep."

Ilia tries to hide her disappointment, but everyone notices it and I once again resist the urge to roll my eyes.  Her mother sets her with a stern glare and then continues with, "I will not have your reputation be put into question again, young lady."

Ilia's cheeks begin to flame yet again and the grin that Nolan tries to suppress doesn't help.  She quickly mumbles a "Good night" before hurrying up the stairs to her room.  Mrs. Whitmann then kisses her son's forehead before following after Ilia upstairs.

Once the last of his family disappears up the steps, Nolan visibly sags in the chair that he still occupies, as if the encounter with his family physically drained him of all the remaining energy he had. 

"Your family is... interesting," I finally say and he nods tiredly, closing his eyes.  "Are you missing the laid-back, no drama qualities of Neverland?" I ask and he smiles slightly, holding up his fingers in a gesture that says he does a bit.

He then crawls onto the floor, curls up, and quickly falls asleep.  This action brings a small smile to my face because even though he is in his family's house with them just upstairs, his allegiance still lies with me despite the fact that he has only lived in Neverland with us for about a week.  It strengthens my faith in him as my main resource here.

After a moment, I copy his motions and lay on the floor beside him rather than taking the couch like I am assuming he had me wanted to.  The last thing I needed was for Mrs. Whitmann to come down here in the morning and think that I was mistreating her boy by forcing him to sleep on the floor while I got the comfy couch.

I lie there on the floor for what feels like hours, my brain refusing to shut off as it processes everything that was said and done that day, trying to fit anything together that would make sense. At around midnight, it finally gives up and just before sleep finally drags me under, an image of Catherine, smiling and safe, enters my mind and it comforts me as I fall into the black abyss of sleep.