Devourer of Men: A Captain Hook, Crocodile, and Wendy Darling Reimagining

I find Asha in the royal library, several books open on the worktable in front of her. There is an oil lamp glowing beside her, the light flickering over the thin vellum pages. She is deep in the recesses of the library where the early morning light streaming through the tall, arched windows has yet to penetrate the thick shadows.

Her dark hair is twisted and held back with a bone stick but several wispy strands have come loose and hang along her pale, oval face.

Asha isn’t originally from Everland. She came to the island as a teenager, hired by the royal archives to translate ancient texts and complete the Everland Illuminated Collections. When that job was done, she joined the Royal Guard. Not only can she speak and write seven languages (three of which are dead) but she is also one of the most accomplished soldiers in the entire Everland army having earned herself the nickname Bonescar at the Battle of Dri vo Dair against the highlanders.

I consider myself incredibly lucky to call her my most trusted friend, my best friend.

When I come in, she doesn’t look up and her pen continues to move across an empty sheet of vellum laid out beside her.

With the illuminated texts complete, she’s taken to translating ancient Everland recipes for no other reason than it keeps her busy. She just recently completed the text for a biscuit recipe that the kitchen then tested. Best biscuits the castle has ever produced.

My mouth waters now just thinking of them. Perhaps with my breakfast if I can get word in early enough. I certainly deserve the treat after the morning I’ve had.

“Did you see them?” she asks, her eyes still on her work.

“Yes.”

“And?”

I collapse in one of the leather side chairs, my queen’s dress puffing up around me. It’s pompous, this dress, with its delicate embroidery and jewel-encrusted collar and all of its many layers of tulle.

I feel stupid having chosen it in order to make a show for James and Roc.

The dress was meant to say, I don’t need you. Look at how far I’ve come.

But the truth is, my crown is a lie and the dress is like a masquerade mask that does not fit.

Asha finally looks up. When she sees the expression on my face, she sets her pen in the brass holder, folds her hands over her middle. Her fingers are stained with ink but the bright red tattoos that cover her hands break through anyway.

The tattoos are in the language of her people, the Northern Winterlanders who live in the mountains and make their life among the windroot trees and crisp glacier lakes.

When I ask her why she doesn’t return home she tells me only that her home no longer exists.

I’ve never pressed. I know exactly what that feels like.

“They’ve devastated you,” she surmises.

I clamp my teeth tight against one another trying not to cry.

The emotion catches me by surprise.

Asha clicks her tongue. She’s always been able to read me easily, and she’s never been one to mince words.

“Why have they come now?” My voice wobbles and I take a breath. “After all this time?”

“They’ve heard you’re a queen. They’ve come hungry for a queen’s gifts.”

“No.” I close my eyes and in the darkness behind my lids I see them both, Roc and James, more handsome than when I left them. More men than wily boys. They are opposite sides of the same coin, one heads, one tails. One handsome and desperately elegant, the other unassumingly dangerous, sharply beautiful.

“They were surprised,” I say. “They didn’t know who I had become. They wouldn’t have been in the Merchant District asking for me if they’d known my title.”

Asha shoves her chair back and comes over, taking the matching leather chair across from me. She sits forward, her elbows on her knees. Asha only dresses in the attire of a soldier—rough but sturdy trousers, close-fitting tunic, leather vest. But Asha could wear a beggar’s cape and look like a princess.

She has that air about her—that she can make the most of anything, even scraps.

“What did you tell them?” she asks.

“I told them nothing, then sent them away.”

She tilts her head, regarding me with the same scrutiny she gives to ancient texts that must be unraveled and deciphered.

“But you wish you didn’t have to.”

I lick my lips. A breath catches in my throat. “I wish…I wish I could have spoken to them longer.”

“And if you had, what would you have said?”

My chest grows tight and my usually steely facade crumbles, tears welling in my eyes. Asha is the only person I trust to see my vulnerability and never use it against me. But it’s still painful to admit I have any.

“I would have said, ‘How dare you abandon me.’”

My chin trembles as the tears fill up my eyes.

Asha sits back and lets me have this moment of despair.

I swipe at my face as a few tears escape.

Any sign of emotion must be dealt with like a festering wound — you must rid yourself of all signs of it, first by purging its infection, then searing off the raw edges.

In a place like the Everland Court, there is no room for weakness.

When the moment is over, I look up at the library’s vaulted ceiling, where the wrought iron chandeliers still flicker with candlelight, and blink back the last of the wetness in my eyes.

Turning to Asha, I sit upright and level my shoulders, pretend I didn’t just break apart.

“You think they’ll abide by your orders?” she asks. “Having come all this way for you?”

“I think they have little choice. I made Theo escort them to the docks.”

Asha looks away, lost in thought.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I saw Hally earlier on my way to the library.”

I lurch upright. “You didn’t.”

“He said he was headed to the healer for stomach pain, but now that I think about it…”

“What, Ash? Go on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“When I left him, Hally headed in the opposite direction.”

I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Wendy, wait.”

But I can’t. I can’t wait.

There is no time to wait.

I’m out the door in an instant, my skirt bunched up in my hands. Asha is silent behind me, but I know she’s following. She won’t let me confront Hally alone. “Which way did he go?”

The library is on the third floor and I take the staircase down to the first landing, then turn the corner, down the next flight until I reach the mezzanine that sits in the center of the castle, where the gallery rises up three floors to a doomed ceiling with opaque glass and iron ribs between the panes.

The gallery is always busy with servants running back and forth with meals or messages or both and courtiers waiting for a chance at any of the royal family.

This morning is no different. In fact, I would say the gallery is busier than usual.

I spot Hally leaning against the mane of the stone lion sculpture that sits at the base of the stone balustrade. He’s laughing, conversing with the group of courtesans that have gathered around him.

He doesn’t look at all like he’s suffering from stomach pain.

I hurry around the mezzanine to the grand staircase, but Asha pulls me to a stop.

“What are you going to say to him?” she whispers.

Even though she and I were both running down the same set of stairs, there is not a hint of sweat on her face. By contrast, I feel sticky along my spine and a little damp on my forehead.

If I go down there looking like this, the entire court will be talking about how the queen was sweaty and in a rush to see the Crown Prince, which will do me no favors.

Hally and I look the same age and there have been countless rumors in court that have alleged of our affair. The only reason there is any life to them is because we are often spotted in shadows in heated conversations.

But if anyone knew what we were actually saying to one another, the rumors of an affair would be laughed out of court.

Most of the time, Hally and I are telling each other just how much we can’t stand the other.

If I could murder him and get away with it, I would.

He thinks I married his father for money and to steal the crown from him. When really, I was never given a choice. King Hald made it clear that if I wanted to live, I would become his wife.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if Hald knew more than I did about what I was capable of. He saw something in me very early on, something he could exploit. And I let him because I was desperate to feel safe. Eventually he and I came to an understanding, eventually I came to even enjoy his company.

But now he is dying and I am left once again to fend for myself.

Every morning I wake in a panic, wondering if I’m dead or about to be dead. I barely sleep anymore. How can I when Hally is slowly assembling a cohort of people who want to see me gone?

The whispers of our illicit affair have slowly, over time, morphed to something worse: they think I’m one of the vermis, an evil witch come to influence their court.

There is no safe space for me within the castle walls, especially now.

Asha pulls a silk handkerchief from her vest pocket and hands it to me. I dab at my forehead, then sweep back my hair, smoothing it into submission.

“If he’s done something I should be worried about, he’ll tell me of his own accord,” I say to Asha. “And I have to know.”

Her mouth is a straight line, her expression closed off. But she gives me a quick nod, backing me up.

“Do I look put together?” I ask her.

She takes the handkerchief back and it disappears into her vest pocket. “Take a breath,” she instructs.

I suck in one, shoulders rocking back, then breathe it out, low and slow.

“Better,” she decides and then I turn for the stairs and make my way down.

When the gathered crowd spots me, they immediately go quiet and assemble into a line, their hands clasped before them, heads bowed.

Hally pushes away from the stone lion. There is a glow about him, like he’s gotten away with something, and my stomach sinks.

“Your Majesty,” Hally says and gives me a shallow bow.

The assembled line at least has the decency to bow in the way that is expected when standing before a queen.

They all murmur good morning to me but avoid making eye contact.

“Good morning to you all,” I say, keeping my voice light and airy. Even before the rumors that I am a witch, the court liked to call me a cold-hearted bitch behind my back because I often avoid court gatherings, and when I do attend, I keep to myself.

I can’t stomach the gossip and the small talk.

“And how are you this morning, Hally?”

He gives me a tight smile, teeth locked together. He hates it when I call him Hally, his father’s nickname for him.

“I’m well, Your Majesty. And you? I suspect you’re feeling cheerful and lively, what with your visiting companions?”

The assembled group perks up.

Now it’s my turn to smile with gnashed teeth.

“Companions?” I say because I don’t want to give away that they mean anything at all to me.

“The two men who visited your private room earlier this morning?”

The whispers between the courtesans is practically sparking with fire.

“Handsome men, both of them. I had a chance to greet them at the gate. We couldn’t let our dear queen’s friends slip away without supper. Lucky I caught them in time.”

Ice cold. That’s what I am. Ice fucking cold.

“If you’re referring to the two men who were escorted in by the Captain of the Guard, you’ll be disappointed to learn that they were looking for someone else and were sent away to continue their quest for their missing friend.”

Hally’s nostrils flare and he steps forward, shrinking the distance between us. He’s far too close, even for a prince. Everyone knows social decorum says to give the queen a wide berth.

“Whatever the case may be,” he goes on, “they gladly accepted the supper invitation.”

Goddamn them.

“So if their friend is here in our court,” Hally adds, “we’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, he swivels around and walks away, the heels of his leather boots clacking loudly on the marble floor.