Wolf bowed his head. “Bear bade me come to you and fetch you back to her side.”
“Wait.” Saturday held up a hand. Her blue-green bracelet caught a ray of sunlight. “The witch on the mountain captured the dragon in order to siphon its power,” she said to her aunt. “Who would want to siphon power from your sisters?”
The answer was obvious, but Rose Red said it aloud anyway. “Sorrow.”
“My eldest aunt,” Saturday explained to Peregrine.
“Your family has a lot of very powerful women,” he replied, and Saturday smiled. She had lamented the same fact many a time.
“I cannot go back to Faerie,” said Rose Red. “It will be just what Sorrow wants. My strength is here, on this sacred ground, surrounded by the gods to whom I have dedicated my life. If my sister wants to take my power, she will have to come here to get it.”
Wolf was not happy about her answer, but he accepted it. “I will pass along your condolences.”
“We will go with you to Faerie,” said Saturday. “We will find this Bear, and collect Wednesday and Aunt Joy, and join forces with them. Sorrow must be stopped.” Saturday had finally found a purpose beyond her destiny. “But first I would like to say goodbye. I didn’t have the chance to before.”
At Rose Red’s nod, Erik let Saturday cross to Mama’s side. She knelt beside the wooden table and took Mama’s small hand in her large one. The skin was soft, neither warm with life nor cold with death.
“I’m so sorry, Mama.” There were no tears on Saturday’s cheeks, only the flush of shame.
She felt a large hand on her shoulder that she did not recognize. She turned her head and noticed the brown sleeve of the monk who stood guard over her mother. “Those of us who are Fate’s playthings often have little choice where our path takes us,” he said. “It’s not your fault, Saturday.”
The brother’s familiarity annoyed her. How could he assume to know her pain? She stood up and spun around with dagger in hand, not caring a fig for the sacredness of this space. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Answer her.” Peregrine’s tone was that of an earl and not a simpering witch’s daughter. Beside him, Betwixt smiled with a mouthful of feral teeth. Saturday’s heart welled with pride.
The monk laughed. “Well, now. Don’t you make quite the trio?”
Saturday pulled back the cowl to reveal a rugged man with ruddy cheeks, hair like sunshine, and bright blue eyes that twinkled mischievously. Saturday had seen those eyes before.
In a mirror.
“Jack?” Peregrine stepped forward. “Is it really you?”
“Hello, Ladyboy. Good to see you, too.” The two men chuckled into an enthusiastic embrace.
Saturday sheathed her dagger and put her hands on her hips. So this was the infamous, legendary Jack, sung about in a hundred kingdoms and known in every corner of the world. This was the man she had been mistaken for, the reason she’d been imprisoned and forced to unleash chaos upon the world. The resemblance was oddly striking: it was as if someone had painted a portrait of herself and one of Papa and then muddled them together.
“No hug for your long-lost brother?”
Saturday imagined that handsome face wasn’t used to disappointment. She punched the smile right off his chin.
“That’s my girl!” cried Thursday.
“I told you we should have introduced them properly,” Erik said to Thursday.
“Oh no,” said the Pirate Queen. “This is much better.”
“I was captured because of you!” Saturday yelled at the legend that was her eldest brother. “I almost died because of you! I killed a witch, woke a dragon, lost my sword and my ear, and cut my finger . . . AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.” Saturday punctuated each sentence with a fist on his tree trunk of a chest, so like their father’s. Jack took every blow in stride until Saturday ran out of accusations, and then he hugged her anyway. Saturday’s feet actually left the ground.
“You’ve been busy,” he said into her hair.
“It’s nothing you haven’t done,” she said when he set her back down.
“I may have vanquished a sorceress or two in my time, but I can’t say I’ve ever bested a demon witch like the lorelei.”
“You took her eyes,” said Saturday. “I’m sure that was difficult enough.”
“But I didn’t rescue the damsel or wake a dragon,” he said. “That must have been something to see.” Saturday was secretly pleased to have accomplished something her infamous, back-from-the-dead brother had not.
“What happened to the eyes?” asked Peregrine.
“They . . . melted,” said Jack. “It’s how I knew she’d been defeated.” He noticed Saturday’s hand drop back to Mama’s shoulder. “She would be proud of you.”
“After she gave me a severe tongue-lashing for abandoning her, perhaps. Jack”—addressing her brother by his name still felt strange—“I promised Peter that I would protect Mama. I promised. And I failed.” She had also promised him a wealth of gold and a pretty girl, but Peter would not hold those things against her.
“I’m sure Mama forgives you for not being there when she fell ill. You were too busy saving the world.” He winked at her. “These things happen.”
“But what about the dragon?”
“The price of adventuring.”
Saturday moved to smack him again. He deflected her arm and kissed her cheek. “Let me worry about the dragon,” he said. “You’ve got other things to do.”
“So you’re not coming to Faerie with us?” It wasn’t fair to have to leave the legend so soon after having reunited with him. There were so many things to ask!
“I have to go find my ship,” said Thursday.
“I should return to Arilland and bring this news to the king,” said Erik. “And someone needs to tell Jack Woodcutter about his wife.”
And Peter, thought Saturday. Poor, sweet Peter. At least Papa would not have to bear the news alone. “All right, then Peregrine and Betwixt and I will go to Faerie. If that’s all right with you?” she asked Wolf.
Wolf bowed his head. “It would be my honor.”
“Saturday,” said Peregrine.
“Don’t argue. It’s a good plan,” she told him.
“Saturday, stop. Please.”
It was the “please” that shut her up.
“There’s something I have to do.”
“I know,” she said. “You want to return to Starburn. And we will, in time. But this may be another matter of life and death.”
From beneath his linen shirt, Peregrine pulled the chain around his neck that held both her ring . . . and another’s. It was then that she realized exactly what he was trying to say to her.
Peregrine slid her ring-that-was-a-sword off and then refastened the chain around his neck. “I wasn’t supposed to survive.”
“But you did,” said Saturday. “I saved you.”
“We saved each other,” he said.
Those words, the ones she had spoken at the Top of the World before the mountain had exploded, shredded her heart like crystalwings.
“I would love nothing more than to kneel at your feet right now, put that ring on your finger, and bind my destiny to yours, whatever that may be. But I cannot.” Peregrine placed the ring in Saturday’s hand and curled her fingers closed around it. “I must keep my promise to Elodie.”
Saturday could say nothing to this; she would not have respected him if he were the sort of person who did not keep his promises. Peregrine had to leave, and she had to let him. “What if she did not wait for you?”
“Then I will catch you on the road to Faerie.”
“And if she did?”
Peregrine reached out a hand to touch her but let it fall short. “I do not want to say goodbye.”
“Nor do I,” said Saturday.
“I will return,” Betwixt told her. “Either way, I will return to you with word.”