Despite Peter's instance that my father enjoy his last fortnight with me, I hardly saw him. Most days, he locks himself away in his council chamber with his advisors tries to figure out a way to keep me out of Peter's clutches.
But as the sun began to set in the west down over the water, I couldn't help but feel like I only had a limited number of ocean sunsets left to enjoy before Peter returned and took me back to his camp in the deep jungle. There were stories that the servants whispered that said that the jungle was so thick that the sun never shines. It's constantly dark and full of nightmarish creatures that Peter and the Lost Boys hunt for sport, sometimes getting themselves killed in the process.
I've tried ignoring the stories and the whispers, but they always find their way to the front of my mind whenever I sit still or try to focus on something pleasant.
Along with the whispers and rumors though, there are worse things that are very real and are actually happening.
Over the past week, endless mills, farms, and homes have been set ablaze and left to burn. Multiple market stands have been robbed, and livestock are being slaughtered. All signs point to Peter and the Lost Boys, but none of them are ever caught.
I'm was sitting in the dining hall with my father on the morning of the seventh day, pushing wild bird around my plate, when a guard entered the room and announced he had grim news.
"What is it, Harlan?" my father asked as he ran thick fingers through his greying hair.
"My Lord, I have news from Eastloche."
"Please tell me they found those boys," my father said as he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with hope even though he tried to keep his face neutral.
Harlan looked down at his feet and sighed and I saw my father's shoulders fall. When Harlan looked up, he was frowning.
"They did find the boys, Your Majesty, but…"
"But?" my father prodded. When Harlan shot a glance at me, my father turned to me and asked, "Holly, could you leave Harlan and I for a moment, please?"
Anger flared up inside me quicker than a grease fire. I sat up straighter, my shoulders back and my head held high as I said, "I want to hear the news too. I think I'm old enough." I didn't dare bring up that the reason all of these terrible things were happening was because of my father's instance that there was a way to keep me and the villages safe from Peter's wrath.
My father gave me a hard gaze, his blue eyes like the ocean, but my resolve was stronger. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he motioned for Harlan to continue.
Harlan shuffled uncomfortably and cleared his throat a few times before he stated, "All five of the boys were found floating in the loch. They were all swollen with water, which means they had been there for a few days."
I felt my heart sink and I had to swallow the acid that rose into my mouth as I pictured five boys, their lungs filled with salt water, floating face down.
My father swore, slamming his fist down onto the table, causing Harlan and I to startle. "Any other news?" he growled.
"Actually, Your Majesty, yes. There was a… message."
"A message?" my father asked, arching an eyebrow. Harlan nodded. "Well, let's hear it then."
Another questioning glance was shot my way, but he must have thought better than to argue because he took a deep breath and said, "Each of the boys had a letter carved into their bellies." I felt sick again. "When the letters are rearranged…" Harlan was obviously struggling. He had gone pale and beads of sweat had formed at his hairline. He kept rubbing a hand over his mouth and shuffling from one foot to another.
"What's the message, Harlan?" my father asked, his voice soft yet still authoritative.
"Holly." Harlan said in a rush. "The carvings on the bodies spelled 'Holly'."
