Hero

The chapel door opened again and Betwixt entered, wearing trousers this time, and naught else but a gleaming pelt of russet fur. Beside Erik was a man who could only have been Peregrine, dressed in hose and a long, double-breasted coat that flared out around his knees, much like the skirts he favored. Saturday might not have known him but for the thi

“Is it really you?” she asked softly. Mama had taught her to always whisper on sacred ground. His nose seemed larger, his chin and shoulders seemed squarer, and he wore the runesword at his side with the ease of . . . well . . . an earl’s son. Without saying a word he held his right hand out to her, palm up, revealing the line of blue scar on his wrist that Cwyn had given him. The skin around it was darker than it had been in the mountains, and significantly less green in hue.

The hand continued up past her cheek to touch her hair. “It’s curly,” he said. The words came from a larger chest, in thicker air, and held no falsetto of pretense. Part of Saturday missed the strange boy who’d teamed up with her in the White Mountains, but the rest of her began to realize how easy it would be to fall in love with the man who stood before her now. She wondered how much more he still had left to change; wondered if the man he’d become could still love a warrior who’d shed blood and unleashed terror on the world.

She heard the catch in his breath as he discovered her damaged ear, but he said nothing in front of her family.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rose Red said from the altar. Wolf, who had removed only his hat, stood patiently by her side. “If you would please join me in the sacristy.”

Saturday sca

They followed the abbess back behind the altar, through a small doorway and into a room few but the most blessed had ever seen. A tall, hooded monk awaited them there.

Unlike the chapel, the sacristy was plain. Only a few of the gray cinderblocks bore patterns or runes. The windows here were little more than narrow slits; dust played in the shafts of sunlight that sliced through the dusk to the unadorned floor. In the center of the room was an oaken table.

On the table lay the body of her mother.

“No!” Saturday tried to run to her mother’s side, but Erik stopped her.

“Please,” said Rose Red. “Let me explain.”

Peregrine put a hand on Saturday’s shoulder, and she steeled her nerves. He removed it quickly enough that no one would assume she needed his strength, but he did not move from her side. Betwixt stood before them both, the perfect picture of ease and i

“I put her to bed in my cabin on the ship,” said Thursday. “She never woke. She was probably already gone before you were taken.”

Knowing that didn’t make Saturday feel better.

“I’ve seen this before,” said Peregrine. He turned to Saturday. “So have you.”

And so she had. She had seen a body trapped in a similar likeness of death, though it had not been human, nor so well preserved. “She’s under a spell,” said Saturday. “The sleeping death.”

“She is not the only one,” said Rose Red. “Trix’s mother was the first. Then Teresa, our third sister. Their bodies are being watched over in the vaults.” The hooded monk nodded a silent affirmation.

“Your twin has fallen as well,” Wolf said gruffly. “Her husband, the Bear Prince, keeps her in a glass coffin at his palace in Faerie.”

Rose Red clenched a fist but did not break her composure. “Not Snow White.”

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 ca

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 a

“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.”