y the next evening, Hook had returned to Hertfordshire.

Wendy had been reluctant to inform him of Pan’s appearance—not being in any hurry to see the captain again—but in the end, she had spent half the night drafting a complete and accurate report, depositing it with Huxley at dawn and asking that it be delivered to Hook personally in London as quickly as possible. It was her sworn duty to crown and country, and she took that duty seriously.

Which made the captain’s current accusation all the more galling.

“What did you tell him?” he demanded.

Wendy was seated at the table in the library, with Poppy resting loyally at her feet, while Hook paced back and forth. A leopard in a cage of books. She watched him in fascination, amazed that it was he himself who had cultivated the vast collection of tomes that surrounded her. He seemed so much more a man of action than of quiet reflection or study—unable to sit still even long enough for a simple conversation.

“I assure you, Captain,” she said calmly, sitting ramrod straight, shoulders back, chin tilted proudly in the air, defying his implication with her very posture, “I told him nothing of any significance.”

“I don’t mean this time,” he countered, coming to a sudden halt and scowling at her. “I mean the first time. Obviously he came looking for you here, hoping for more information. You must have told him something back in Dover.”

“What makes you think he was looking for me?” She made the question sound as innocent as she could. John and Michael had taken a significant risk in writing to her at Hook’s estate. She wasn’t going to admit she knew anything about Pan’s second appearance in Dover, whether or not Hook was aware of it himself.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he demanded.

“No, Captain. Of course not.” She folded her hands before her on the table and stared directly into his eyes. He stared back for a long time before speaking again.

“Surely even you can see that his sudden appearance here, so soon after your arrival, is an unlikely coincidence. Especially given your earlier encounter.”

“Even me?” Her eyebrow rose in a silent warning—a warning that would have given him pause had he known her better.

Unfortunately for Hook, he did not.

“Yes, you. A woman. Designed by our Creator for the tender care of children rather than the strategic calculations of war, the rational pursuit of science. But even you must surely recognize that he is somehow following you. The natural deduction is that you are providing him with useful information, whether you realize it or not.”

“Oh, I see. Even me.” Another long silence extended between them during which Wendy fought to maintain her composure, while Hook presumed she was trying to follow his reasoning.

“Well?” he said finally.

“I apologize for the delay,” Wendy said evenly. “It’s just that your previous statement is incorrect on so many levels that I’m having trouble deciding where to begin my rebuttal. So as to approach it in the most logical fashion.”

“I—”

Wendy closed her eyes and raised a gentle but preemptive hand, an action that surprised Hook so deeply he fell silent on the spot. When she was certain she had his attention, she opened her eyes again and began to speak.

“Firstly, you said that Pan’s appearance here was an unlikely coincidence. On that much, we agree. But being unlikely is not the same thing as being impossible. A true logician must allow for the possibility that it was, in fact, a coincidence, albeit an unexpected one.

“Secondly,” she continued, “you stated that he must therefore be following me, and that the natural deduction—I believe those were your exact words—is that I have been acting as a traitorous informant.”

“Now wait just a moment, I never called you a traitor—”

“Yes, of course. You presume I am too stupid to be a traitor. That I have been accidentally committing one of the worst crimes imaginable before God and King.”

“That’s not what I—”

“It is very much what you implied, whether or not you said it directly. That is a logical deduction. What is not a deduction is the preposterous leap from ‘not here by coincidence’ to ‘gaining traitorous information.’ At the very most,” Wendy forged on, hardly taking a breath, although her voice remained imperturbably calm, “if we presume Pan’s presence here not to be a coincidence, then clearly he must be here for a reason. Which, by the way, is a rhetorical tautology rather than a deduction. But that still provides us with no indication as to what that reason might be. The idea that he is gathering useful information from me is a supposition, certainly not a deduction, and only one of several possibilities that a good logician must consider.”

Hook said nothing, merely staring at her as though she, not he, had become the exotic creature on display in the library zoo. A tiger crouching upon a tree limb, pontificating to its prey.

“For example,” Wendy continued, gaining momentum, “Pan might have been searching for your family’s estate. You yourself admitted that the two of you share a particular enmity. Perhaps you have been the target of his pursuits, not I. Or he might have been hoping to learn something from me precisely because he has not yet been able to do so. He might see it as a challenge. Or, speaking of challenges, he might have enjoyed matching his wits against my own, having been unable to find a worthy adversary among the king’s men. There are many reasons for which he might have paid a visit to this estate, but again I assure you, it was not because I have ever helped him in any way!”

As Wendy said this last, she rose from her seat until she was glaring at Hook across the table, both of her hands planted firmly upon it, her elbows locked, her eloquent eyebrow raised in defiance, daring him to challenge her again. Hook still did not know Wendy very well, but he certainly knew her better now than he had even a few moments ago. He recognized what that eyebrow was trying to tell him, and he chose finally to heed its warning, skirting the confrontation by approaching her from a new angle.

“Well then, what have you learned from him?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?” She continued to lean menacingly across the table, but her face now registered confusion alongside its original hostility.

“Presuming, for the moment, that you are correct—that he has not gained any useful information from you, and that your wits have bested his at every turn—then surely you have managed to learn something useful from him, yes? Something, Miss Darling, anything, that we might use to turn the tide of this war.”

As he said it, Hook mirrored her posture, calmly placing both his hand and his hook on the table directly across from her and leaning toward her. His thick, raven locks were tied back behind his neck, and his eyes of forget-me-not blue locked onto hers in a way that made her uncomfortable for more reasons than she would have wanted to admit.

She straightened back up and tidied her dress demurely.

“Perhaps if you would treat me like an actual member of the Nineteenth Light Dragoons,” she suggested, “and brief me on our current initiatives rather than hiding me away on your family’s hunting estate like some sort of swooning romantic interest, I might be in a better position to help the cause.”

A hint of a smile played across Hook’s lips. “Swooning? I can hardly imagine anyone mistaking you for a swooning anything, Miss Darling.”

“Yes, well … Mrs. Medcalf is quite certain that you and I are soon to be engaged,” Wendy reluctantly admitted. “I would vastly prefer it if you would take steps to correct that misapprehension.”

“Is she?” Hook said, and his eyes danced with a cruel sort of humor. “I must admit I hadn’t considered the likelihood, but it’s as good a cover story as any. And better than most. As an actual member of the Nineteenth Light Dragoons, you should expect to hide your true purpose from the world, should you not?”

“Be that as it may—”

“No. It is best that you continue to act in that capacity.” Hook stood and nodded to himself, the matter clearly settled. “You shall henceforth pretend to be my swooning romantic interest. I dare say it will be an excellent test of your wits, and it gives me a perfectly good excuse to keep you here as long as needed.”

“As long as needed! But—”

“I am still your superior officer, Miss Darling. Unless, of course, you no longer wish to be an actual member of the Nineteenth Light Dragoons?”

Wendy merely glared at him in silence.

“As to briefing you regarding our current initiatives,” he continued, “if my hypothesis is correct—if Pan is indeed seeking you out—then the less you know of our plans, the better. All you need to know is that I want as much information as you can learn. Specifically, I would be very interested to discover the location of Pan’s island. I’m tired of defending our shores, Miss Darling. I would like very much to take the battle to our enemy. And the sooner, the better.

“I will send a few men to stay with you here. Not only for your protection but for the house. As you say, this is my family’s estate. No one will question my decision to see to the safety of my bride to be.”

Wendy blushed furiously but refused to rise to the bait. “Fine,” she said. “Then send me the Fourteenth Platoon. I am their diviner, and they should not be without me. I shall be safe here in their care.”

“This is not a negotiation, Miss Darling,” Hook replied evenly. “The Fourteenth has its own post to attend to. I will, instead, be sending my own men from London. If you wish to be reunited with the Fourteenth Platoon in Dover, then find me the location of that island. Once I know where it is, I shall be far too busy hunting the everlost to maintain a fiancée in Hertfordshire.”

A challenge, Wendy thought. Ha! Two can play at that game! On your guard, then, Captain. Maintaining a fiancée in Hertfordshire might be more trouble than you’d expect!

But, of course, Wendy kept that thought to herself. Instead, she took a bold pace toward him. Two paces. Three. Did he honestly believe he could intimidate her? Make her uncomfortable by forcing her to act as his fiancée? She held up her hand, clearly inviting him to take it.

“Until we meet again then, darling,” she said.

He eyed her warily for a long moment, but then his mouth twisted into a cold, calculated smile. Instead of taking her hand in his own, he brought his steel hook up to rest it beneath her delicately curled fingers, its tip—sharp and deadly—just inches from her chin.

“Oh, I haven’t left yet, Miss Darling.” He spoke quietly, his voice deep and rasping. “I’m afraid you won’t be rid of me that easily.”

His eyes locked onto hers, and he pulled her hand gently to his lips. The leopard once again, toying with its catch. But Wendy only held his gaze, saying nothing. 

We will find out soon enough, she thought to herself, just who is toying with whom.