My feet felt like lead. My head felt light, and the world threatened to tip sideways if I didn't keep my breathing steady. The golden hour light was warm, but it didn't seep into my skin; it stayed on the surface, teasing me as I tensed to keep from shivering.

Mumbles and shuffling and whispers of the public lapped at the large heavy curtain that separated Peter and I from the public square like the waves of the sea lapped at the cliffs on the northern edge of the island. For the most part, their attempt at quiet was persistent, but every once in a while, the noise would rise, the mania of the situation almost tipping towards panic, but then it would die down again. People shushed one another or a Lost Boy would shout for them to shut their mouths.

Peter pushed the curtain open slightly with a finger and peered out, his eyes darting over the crowd.

He asked Benj, "Are they all here?"

Benj nodded. "Yes. Those that were able to, anyway."

Peter's eyes continued to scan the crowd. "And those that weren't?"

"They were taken care of."

Had Peter been looking at Benj, he would have seen his head dropped, his jaw clenched, but Peter wasn't looking at him. He was too caught up in the ocean of faces on the other side of the curtain as he nodded in approval.

Benj met my gaze with sad eyes. He looked haunted, which is something I had never seen in him. I had seen him laugh, seen him smile, seen him scowl. I had seen him hold a knife to someone's throat and, on more than one occasion, seen him use his belt of knives on others.

I knew what it meant when Benj said that those who were unable to come to the square were taken care of, so I tried my best to show him I understood, that I knew that whatever it was that he had to do was only because he had been ordered to do so. He wasn't as much of a monster as Peter was even though that's what Peter wanted him to be.

Benj looked away, ashamed, but he immediately put on a bored face when Peter turned back to us. His eyes sparkled. "Are you ready, Sweetheart?"

I gave him a small smile and nodded. Peter beamed before turning to Benj and giving him a nod. Benj returned it and stepped through the curtain.

The heavy sound of his boots rendered the crowd completely silent. For a moment, Benj said nothing. Then, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"People of Mystasia," he began, his baritone voice ringing out over the crowd, "today is a day of celebration. Today is a day that has been long awaited by you and the Lost Boys alike." At this, there was a murmur that rippled through the crowd, but it never rose above a whisper. "There have been rumors," Benj continued, and the murmuring immediately stopped. No one wanted to miss his words. "Rumors that Princess Holly has returned to Mystasia; that she has returned to you. I am here to tell you that those rumors are true."

Murmurs and whispers began to boil in the crowd, rising into loud conversations and questions. I-told-you-so's and Why-would-she-return's.

"Let us see her," came a shout from the crowd, and it was met with applause and shouts of agreement. "Let us see the princess!"

"With pleasure," came Benj's voice, and before I could fully prepare myself, Benj was pulling back the curtain, the late afternoon light shining through and blinding me for a moment. I put my hand up to block the light and felt Peter loop his arm through mine. He was pulling me along with him, so I dropped my hand and lifted my dress slightly so I wouldn't trip.

Peter and I stepped out onto the makeshift platform that seemed more like a stage, and as my eyes adjusted, I could see that every able-bodied person in Mystasia — man, woman, and child, young and old — was crowded into the square like fish in a barrel. The smell of sweat and body odor permeated the air and it was difficult not to cover my nose as the smell seemed to tickle the back of my throat, threatening to gag me.

Standing between us and the crowd were a line of Lost Boys, their hands on their weapons, their eyes trained on the crowd. Many of them were older boys, more experienced with their weapons and, judging by the way they held their tense shoulders, they were waiting for something to happen. Other Lost Boys stood on either side of the platform, while others stood behind Peter and I.

Benj, now finished with his speech, took his place standing directly behind Peter and I.

There was no applause, and I hadn't expected there to be, but the rumbling of the crowd continued until Peter stepped forward and put both of his hands up to silence the crowd. He was met with glares and scowls, but the crowd complied.

When he was satisfied, he dropped his hands, then turned and held his hand out for me to take. I did so, thankful for the black satin gloves. I didn't want Peter to feel the nervous sweat on my palms. He gave me his best smile, but I couldn't bring myself to return it. Peter didn't seem deterred, however, and he turned back to the crowd, his chest puffed out with pride as the crowd watched our interlaced fingers with a mixture of disgust, disbelief, and awe.

He squeezed my hand tightly, and I swallowed the knot that sat at the base of my throat.

Don't show them how afraid you are, I told myself, scanning the faces within the crowd. I tried to find a friendly one, someone I could focus on, but I wasn't so lucky. Every face seemed as guarded and scared as I felt, waiting for me to reassure them, to guide them.

But I was trapped. Just like them.

At least for now.

Squaring my shoulders, I let my voice ring out over the crowd. "First, let me say that I am both relieved and delighted to be home. It has been well over a year since I've seen Mystasia for myself, and I can see that it hasn't lost any of its beauty." The knot in my throat started to form again, threatening to strangle me with my own lies, but I pushed on. "I can see that the people of Mystasia are as resilient as when I was taken from them."

I could see Peter watching me out of the corner of my eye, his features soft, but his eyes dangerous and calculating. He was ready to intervene at any moment in case I decided to betray him in front of all of these people. Even though he believed I had returned to him as his Lost Girl, he still couldn't trust me unconditionally.

This was a huge test, and I did not intend to fail.

I cleared my throat. "I was stolen from Mystasia and its people by a pirate and his crew that wanted to use me as a way to collect a fortune from my father. This pirate also claimed he would be doing my father a favor by keeping me away from Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, but let me assure you all—" I turned to Peter, squeezed his hand, and looked him square in the eye, "— if it were not for Peter and the Lost Boys, I would not be standing here with you all today."

Peter's shoulders relaxed, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a small smile. His eyes shined with approval.

A shout came from somewhere in the crowd. "Tell us the truth!"

The crowd immediately erupted in unease as heads swiveled to figure out who the perpetrator was. Whispers rose through the crowd.

I tried to continue in hopes that it would settle the crowd and the tension that had been brought on by the outburst would dissipate, but then another shout came from the other side of the crowd.

Then another. And another.

The crowd turned like the ocean in a storm. Everyone seemed to be yelling, and many were shaking their fists. A few of the Lost Boys that had been stationed at the side edges of the crowd had disappeared within, weaving their way through and dragging out those they deemed guilty of starting the ruckus. They drug them through the crowd towards the platform.

Many of them were men. The rest were older boys.

Except for one.

My heart slammed against my chest as one of the oldest Lost Boys drug out a young boy who couldn't be older than seven summers. The boy wasn't crying or resisting. He held his head high and kept his face blank.

A woman trailed behind them, pushing her way through the crowd.

"Give me back my son," she wailed, her nails raking along the arms and shoulders of those who stood between her and her son. People tried their best to part the way for her, but the square was so crowded that it was nearly impossible. "He's just a boy! Please!"

Peter's hand slipped from mine, and he walked to the front of the platform. Although I couldn't see his face, I could tell by his stance, by the way he held his shoulders, that the shadow in him had taken over. Before me — before all of us — stood a monster who was capable of any vile thing that one could think of.

And he didn't make exceptions for young boys. I knew from experience.

There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and my mouth was dry. I watched as the Lost Boys brought all the perpetrators to the front of the crowd, holding them steady by the hair at the back of their heads. None of them resisted. They all stood stock still, looking out at the crowd with resolve.

Peter's voice broke through the ringing. "I have tried to be patient, but my patience has run out."

The crowd roared in protest, but when Peter ordered all Lost Boys to draw their weapons, it turned into confusion and then panic.

Peter raised a hand into the air, and the Lost Boys at the front of the crowd mirrored him.

My heart hammered in my chest, the ringing in my ears spiking to a pitch that rocked me on my feet. Peter was speaking again, but I couldn't hear him.

A new hand slipped into mine and began to pull me backward. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "You don't need to see this."

I couldn't bring myself to budge, even as Benj pulled on my hand. "I won't leave them," I said.

"You can't save them," he hissed in my ear.

I won't leave them, I thought again as Peter brought his hand down, running his thumb over his throat. The Lost Boys mirrored him, their blades slicing open the skin of those they held before them.

My eyes blurred with tears as the Lost Boys released them, letting them crumple unceremoniously to the ground. Blood had spattered on those standing at the front of the crowd. The young boy's mother was covered in her son's own blood. She was pulling him into her lap, screaming as she tried to cover the wound with her hands, but her boy was already gone, his eyes staring blankly above him.

There was more screaming, and there were people starting to push forward, their faces twisted in anger. A few began to throw things up at the platform: fruit, vegetables, tools, trinkets; anything that could fit in their hands to be hurled our way was enough.

Peter was shouting orders and Lost Boys were dispersing into the crowd.

Benj became more insistent when a heavy hammer flew past us, barely missing my face. I stumbled at the force of his tug, but he didn't stop. He just kept pulling me away, past the curtain and back towards the castle. He had one blade in his hand, and my hand in the other. His eyes were constantly scanning our surroundings, ready to take on anyone that may pose a threat to me.

Tears streamed down my face, and the knot in my throat wouldn't go away despite how hard I swallowed. My stomach churned and acid threatened to rise up and make me gag.

But Benj kept pulling.

I had expected him to lead me back to my room or Peter's room, but we passed the grand stairway. We passed room after room, but Benj showed no signs of slowing. I didn't ask where we were going. I just trusted he was taking me somewhere he deemed safe.

It was only when he pulled me into a small room in the servant's hall that we seemed to finally be done running.

Benj let go of my hand, sheathed his blade, and threw open the doors to a large wardrobe, shoving aside the dusty clothes that hung inside. I heard some more shuffling, then the sound of wood sliding.

"Benj?" I asked, finding my voice.

He grabbed my hand again. "Come on."

I let him guide me to the wardrobe, and as Benj stepped inside, I could see the back of the wardrobe had been pushed aside, leading to a dark abyss. Benj helped me through and left me to stand in the dark as he shut the door to the wardrobe, pushed the clothes back in place, slid the wood back to normal.

The room smelled musty and there was a chill in the air that made goosebumps rise on my skin. It made the streaks of tears on my face feel like ice. I hugged myself tightly in an attempt to keep whatever warmth I could close to my body.

There was more shuffling, the strike of a match, and then a torch lit up the room.

Lit up a tunnel.

We were standing in a dirt tunnel.

Before I could ask all of the things I wanted to, Benj was cupping my face. "Are you alright?"

I squeezed myself tighter and nodded, but as Benj's thumbs wiped away tears, I realized I was still crying.

How had it all gone so wrong so quickly? It was supposed to be an opportunity for the people to see my face, to see that I was unharmed. It wasn't supposed to turn into a bloodbath.

The thought of the little boy being torn from his mother and dragged to the front of the crowd bombarded my mind, and I choked on a sob when I thought of his throat being slit, the blood that splattered on his mother as she reached for him. Her screaming rang in my ears.

Benj pulled me to him, hugging me tightly as I sobbed into his chest.

"You're okay," he whispered into my hair. "You're safe."

"I hate him," I sobbed, hitting my fist against Benj's chest. "I hate him! I hate him!" Each time, I punctuated my statement with a fist to Benj's chest, but he didn't say anything. He didn't stop me.

"I know," Benj kept saying to me, "I know."

I'm not sure how long I cried for. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been hours, but Benj held me tightly the entire time. He let me cry, and I wondered if he knew that I kept crying not because I wanted to, but because I knew I wouldn't be able to for a long, long time. Crying took too much energy, and I would need every bit of it from here on out. Dealing with Peter and the Lost Boys was one thing, but dealing with Peter, the Lost Boys, and an entire kingdom full of people who felt betrayed by their princess…

I leaned heavily against Benj, spent, trying to focus on the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath his tunic. I took long, slow, deep breaths. With each breath, I felt my resolve harden.

There was shuffling in the wardrobe, and then the sound of wood being slid to the side. Benj pushed me behind him before drawing a blade in each hand. I was tempted to reach for the torch, but it was too close to the wardrobe's entrance, and the intruder was already stepping through.

"Woah there," Harlan said, holding up his hands in surrender as he straightened, "it's just me."

Benj's shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his hands, but he didn't return the blades to his belt.

Harlan eyed the blades warily and kept his distance. "The castle's clear. No one got inside."

"And the crowd?" Benj asked.

"Under control and sent back to their homes for the night. No one is to be out until sunrise."

"How many casualties?"

Harlan's eyes darted to me and then back to Benj. He cleared his throat. "Not sure."

Benj sheathed his knives with a heavy sigh, and I wrung my hands. "I thought for sure you would have joined them," Benj said, his voice accusing, and I saw Harlan scowl.

"I'm all for overthrowing Pan, but I'm not about to do it if it means the possibility of getting her killed." He looked at me then, his eyes bright in the torch light. "I told you that you had a choice. You could have been killed out there."

Everything in my body felt tight, and the persistent drumming of a headache was beginning to make itself known in my temples. I stared at Harlan, a strange mix of frustration and resignation swirling in my stomach. Finally, it settled on resignation, and I decided to say nothing. Of course I had a choice, but it seemed that both choices ended up with someone wanting to kill me. If I align myself with Peter, I would have his protection as well as the protection of the Lost Boys. I just hoped that it would provide me enough time to do what I needed to do.

Harlan continued to push. "Are you going to say something? Anything?"

"No," I stated, and I watched him bristle.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white even in the torch light. "There are people dying out there," he said, pointing back towards the wardrobe. "People that believed your return would be their saving grace, and you have nothing to say? You aren't fooling anyone, Holly. We all know—"

"You don't know anything," I snapped. "None of you do."

"Then help me understand," he shouted.

Benj stepped between us, pointing a menacing finger at Harlan. "That's enough. Keep your voice down."

More footsteps sounded behind me, and Benj and I turned to find Sasha, Saisha, and the two younger sisters coming up the tunnel, Sasha holding one torch for the four of them.

Where did this tunnel lead to?

Harlan, seeming to temporarily forget about our squabble, stepped past us and pulled Saisha in for a long hug. Her eyes were squeezed shut and I could see that she was crying, her shoulders shaking. He whispered reassurances into her hair and she nodded before they finally pulled apart and he wiped her tears away with a tenderness that made my heart clench. When her eyes found me, she laced her fingers through Harlan's, a defiant look in her eyes. Harlan looked down at their interlaced fingers, then looked at me. His cheeks flushed, and he looked away.

"You can't tell everyone about these tunnels," Benj growled at Harlan, his irritation growing by the minute.

Tunnels? There's more than one?

Harlan bristled. "You've told far more than I have," he quipped, and I looked at Benj, wondering why so many others seemed to know about the tunnels and I did not.

Before I could push the issue, small hiccups and sniffles drew my attention to the two younger sisters, and I could see that they were huddled next to Sasha, their eyes and noses leaking onto her dress. With one hand, she held the torch high, but she took turns smoothing their hair and hushing them quietly.

Harlan cleared his throat. "We should all be headed back. We don't want to draw any attention by being unaccounted for all at the same time."

We all agreed silently. Sasha turned to lead the two younger sisters back down the tunnel. Saisha pulled Harlan along, shooting me another look as they left.

When we could no longer see the light of the torch, Benj said, "She doesn't like you."

I sighed. "So I've noticed."

"But I'm pretty sure he still loves you."

I didn't say anything, and Benj didn't push.

"Let's get out of here," he said instead, and I nodded.

The servant's quarters were dark, and I listened anxiously while Benj slid the back of the wardrobe into place and adjusted the dusty coats and clothes. Once the latch clicked shut, we stood there in silence, neither of us daring to breathe, while we listened for any sounds outside the room's door. After a few painful moments, Benj eased open the door and peeked out into the corridor. Once he gave the all-clear, we began making our way back towards more familiar parts of the castle.

Eventually, Benj made the comment not to tell Peter about the hiding spot.

"Where does it go?" I asked, thinking of the tunnel. From the moment I was old enough to explore the castle, I had been. When John and I were young, we had done it together, but as John got older and had to take on more responsibilities as the Prince of Mystasia, I was left to do the exploring on my own. And in that time, I had never come across a tunnel.

Benj glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I think a more appropriate question is 'where doesn't it go'?"

I felt my skin crawl, anxiety slithering up the back of my neck and into my hair. I stopped in my tracks. "Who else knows about that tunnel?"

He turned to look at me. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Holly. I promise, but if it puts your mind at ease, only a few of us. For now."

"What do you mean 'for now'?"

The sound of shouting and running feet made us both freeze. Benj dropped my hand at the sound of Peter's voice.

"Find her! No one sleeps until she's found!"

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run away. How many times had I heard those thundering feet chasing me during a game of Hide and Seek or heard him shout orders to bring me back kicking and screaming?

I did my best to ignore those thoughts as I took off running down the corridor, shouting for Peter, and running straight into his arms.