Remember one night
In drizzling rain
Hand 'round my heart
I felt an aching pain
Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well
Fare Thee Well—Rob Benedict

Julianne is currently thumping her head repeatedly against Fenoglio's desk. She keeps thumping even when Meggie expresses concern and the glass man has to press his back against the glazed jug of quills to keep them from toppling over. She's perfectly happy to go on thumping her head against the desk, but Farid shows up and he looks anxious.

"What is it now," she demands, feeling a flush of guilt when Farid winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't take my anger out on you." She turns her glare on the author and the old man has the audacity to be unafraid. She watched a lot of Looney Tunes growing up, she knows to make her revenge clever and brutal and Fenoglio should be shaking.

"Dustfinger wants to see you and Meggie after he gives someone named Nettle root of fairydeath," he says. "Why are you glaring at the old man? Is it because he brought Cosimo back from the dead?"

"That's exactly why I'm glaring at him, dear." Farid moves closer to her and joins in on the glaring. She's not gonna lie, she's super proud at how spiteful this kid is. "Why does Dustfinger want to see me and Meggie?"

"Dunno. He just said he wanted to talk to both of you." Julianne's lips twist to the side and she stands from the uncomfortable desk chair, Rosenquartz looking relieved as he stepped away from the quills. "Will you come?"

"I suppose I have nothing better to do. I only came here to make Fenoglio feel stupid." Meggie frowns at that and even moves to squeeze Fenoglio's hand, but there's a blush coloring her cheeks all the same. She's angry too, had yelled about the men-at-arms kicking children aside as they rode through the market, about how Piper had threatened all of them. "Come on, Meggs."

"Fine, but I'm not rushing," she says with a little sniff.

"Let me pin your hair back. We don't need fairies pulling at it." She pulls out her comb and pulls her sister's hair back like she used to on school days, twisting it into a neat chignon and pinning it in place with the peacock comb.

"Where'd you get that? It's nice."

"Firefox gave it to me." Fenoglio starts at that, eyes going to the comb and then to Julianne's face. "He heard me singing to the little Prince and said I should be paid for calming the brat's temper. Next thing I know, he's pressing that comb into my hand and striding off back to his master."

"Firefox is not a man to befriend," Fenoglio warns.

"Forgive me if I'm not afraid of a man named after a search engine," she says dryly. "Besides, I haven't had any interactions with him since then. He's always got Piper around him and I'm always tempted to pluck that silver nose off his face and throw it in a pond."

"Careful who you make enemies out of, Julianne. Men like the Piper remember slights made against them." Julianne meets his gaze without an ounce of fear, head raised stubbornly.

"So do I, Inkweaver." Before he can give her anymore advice, she takes Meggie's hand and leaves the old man to his writing. It's not even original stuff half the time, the last song she heard the strolling players praising was written by Hozier. "Come along, we don't want Dustfinger cross with us this early in the morning."

"You're already cross," Meggie says. "And anyway, we didn't even bring the real Cosimo back. This one just thinks he's Cosimo."

"That's just as bad and you know it. You've read Frankenstein, Meggie, you know bad things come when people meddle in Death's business." Julianne breathes deeply and lets it out slowly, shaking her head as she tries to cool her rising temper. "Sometimes dead is better."

"Don't quote Stephen King at me. You know I don't like those stories."

"Who's Stephen King," asks Farid, walking alongside Meggie. His fingers brush against hers as they walk and Meggie doesn't shy away from the touch, a deep ache in Julianne's heart making her realize that Meggie isn't the twelve year old she'd left behind.

"He's an author like Fenoglio. He writes stories about ghosts and monsters." Meggie shudders and tightens her hold on Julianne's hand. Meggie's never been a big fan of horror, that's solely Julianne's domain which meant a lot of audiobooks scattered among their heaps of novels. She's partial to The Shining. "Where are we supposed to meet Dustfinger?"

"Under the gallows. It's quieter there." The streets have become clogged with people since news of Cosimo's return had spread, almost as bad as market days. Brightly colored strips of fabric hang from the windows of houses, a celebration for their newly revived Prince, though black banners still fly from the castle. They're in mourning up there, the Prince of Sighs hasn't been brought back.

The three of them push and elbow their way through the crowd until they're finally past the walls surrounding Ombra, Julianne leaning against the empty gallows and breathing the fresh air. Meggie and Farid crowd together nearby, whispering and laughing as though they've just discovered flirting. A responsible older sister would give Meggie The Talk, but Julianne isn't responsible and she doesn't feel like embarrassing herself considering the one time she'd had sex had ended with her pregnant.

"Are they flirting," Dustfinger whispers, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Julianne flinches away from him in surprise, letting out a faint squeak. Meggie looks up at the noise, her smile disappearing when she spots Dustfinger. "Uh-oh, I interrupted their moment."

"I'm sure they'll have plenty more," she says with a smirk. "Any particular reason you wanted to meet us out here? Can't be good news." His teasing smile slips away and he brings a folded piece of paper out of his pack. It's clean and white, nothing at all like the paper made in this story, and he presses it into her hand.

"Read it." She unfolds the paper and nearly drops it when she sees the familiar handwriting. Julianne glances up and Dustfinger dips his head in a nod to confirm that the letter's real.

"Dear Dustfinger," she reads, voice faint. "I am in the strolling players' camp with Mo, deep in the Wayless Wood. Mortola and Basta brought us here, and Mortola shot Mo." She swallows hard and Meggie gives a sharp cry, both girls staring at the paper like it's a snake readying to strike. Julianne doesn't want to, but she keeps going. "My girls are here, too, I don't know exactly where, but please look for them and bring them to me! Protect them as you tried to protect me. But beware of Basta. Resa."

"Mo and Resa—" Meggie cuts herself off, pressing her lips together to keep hold of her composure. Julianne doesn't even try, turning and wrapping her arms around Dustfinger's waist with her face in the crook of his neck. How can anyone help heal a gunshot wound here? The physicians are still convinced that blood-letting is a good thing!

"They're in the Secret Camp?"

"Yes," Dustfinger nods.

"And that…. The root of fairydeath is for Mo?" Another nod and Julianne does her best to stifle a sob. Fairydeath is as dangerous as it is helpful and she's not sure if it's the best thing for curing a gunshot.

"I've got you, little bird." He's got his arms around her, supporting her when her legs try to give out. She can't lose Mo, not when he's finally here and she can introduce him to his grandson. "I'll take you both to him right away, but Meggie should go and tell Fenoglio she'll be gone for a few days."

"He won't like that," she says.

"It's not his choice. He can't keep you from seeing your father. Don't tell him where you're going or why, we don't need Mortola finding out he's still alive."

"Of course." She starts to back away, but Dustfinger calls to her.

"Tell him to ride to Roxane's farm and tell her that we've gone." He hesitates a moment, one hand smoothing over Julianne's back. "Tell the old man something else: If a single one of his accursed words harms my children, he'll rue the day he ever thought up a man who can summon fire."

"I'll tell him." Julianne doesn't have to pull away to know her sister's gone, she can tell by the way Dustfinger's shoulders relax a fraction, his hold tightening until she feels as if he might squish her.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Julianne murmurs, lips brushing against his neck. He smells of smoke and the fire-elves' honey, a pleasant scent that makes something in her feel safe. She wonders for a moment when that had happened, when the smell of this fire-eater had gone from bad to good. "You smell good." He lets out a huff of laughter and she can't hold back a giggle.

"Why are you two laughing," Farid asks, coming over to them. Julianne reaches out blindly until she finds his arm, tugging him into the hug. Farid tenses and then melts against them, hugging them both back fiercely. "Silvertongue has been shot. Why are you laughing?"

"It's either that or crying."

"I prefer laughter, then. I hate crying, I can't comfort for shit." Another surprised laugh leaves her and she turns her head to glance over at him. His hair is longer than usual, curling beautifully like Jaime's. "What?"

"I've never heard you curse before."

"Get used to it, Juli. I'm old enough to do it now, Dustfinger told me." She pulls back a little so she can look at him properly. "I'm going to teach Dustin how to say fuck."

"Honestly, I'm surprised that wasn't his first word. I went through a stage during his first year of dropping the F-bomb every time I had to get up with him." Dustfinger snorts and drops his head against her shoulder, shaking with laughter. "You're laughing now, but our kid is finally sleeping through the night and his first word was toast."

"Toast," Dustfinger asks.

"Yes, Jehan liked the sound of it and he kept whispering it whenever he held Dustin. It's gotten to the point that we know when Dustin wants Jehan because he just whispers that word over and over again." Roxane hadn't been too happy to learn her youngest answers to the word toast, but Jaime had been positively delighted.

"Amazing. Brianna's first word was sing. That's the only way we could get her to sleep at night, Roxane singing until her eyes fluttered shut. I lived for those moments of peace where I could just sit there and hold her, trace her little face to make sure she was real. I wasn't there enough to do that with Rosanna and it's one of my biggest regrets. I should have been there for my family."

"You're here for them now," Farid says, grasping Dustfinger's shirt at the elbow. "For all of us." Dustfinger's smile is soft and still so strange to see in place of his old not-smile, a genuine thing reserved strictly for Farid. He may not admit it very often, but Julianne knows that he loves this little ragamuffin.

"I'm here," Meggie calls, bursting through the crowd of people still filing into the city. "I'm here!"

"You call that hurrying," Dustfinger asks, his smile falling away once more. "You were gone almost twenty minutes."

"I had to tend to something." She stuffs a rolled-up bit of parchment in her bag, unmindful of the wrecked chignon. Julianne moves over to her sister, taking a moment to fix the honey-gold hair. Resa's hair used to be like this before she came into this story.

"Did the author give you that parchment? A song to tide you over on the way to the camp?"

"It's medicine." She meets Julianne's gaze, the meaning hanging heavy in the air between them. Fenoglio's words might not work for someone he didn't have a hand in creating, but maybe they'll work for Mo. Maybe the ink will knit his wound shut because the Bluejay is Fenoglio's creation.

"We need to get moving. It'll be evening by the time we get there."

They walk through the woods until late afternoon, Farid and Meggie lagging behind while Julianne manages to keep stride with Dustfinger. "Hold on," Dustfinger says, kneeling down to inspect the broken twigs of a bush. Julianne is more focused on the footprints trampling through the area, making the hidden path more visible than it should be.

"What is it," Meggie asks. "What's wrong?"

"Too many boots."

"Fifty bucks says there's a spy in Prince's camp," Julianne says gravely. Dustfinger stands and dusts off his hands. "I've heard talk of a spy and when better to strike than when the supposed Bluejay is incapacitated in a camp filled with children and cripples?"

"Do you have an idea of who the spy is?"

"No, Prince didn't like to talk about it."

"You two stay here while we check out the camp." The tents have been torn to shreds and ashes have been spread over the ground from the trampled campfire, a few corpses left behind for the animals to eat. Julianne wants to be sick, to stamp her foot and scream about the injustice of it all, but more than anything she wants her parents.

She moves into the cave ahead of Dustfinger, using the flashlight on her iPod to light the way. There are a few bedrolls spread out over the hard earth, some straw and wildflowers to soften the earth. None of that holds her attention, just a section of floor with bloodstained straw and strips of a patterned dress.

"Mo was here," she says weakly. "Mo was here and we didn't get to him in time. If the Adderhead sees the scar on his arm, then he's going to hang!"

"We'll get him back." Dustfinger rests a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, blunt nails digging in until she can't stand it. She wants to strike out at someone, so she turns and smacks her palm against his chest. "Easy, little bird."

"It's not fair! We were supposed to get here in time to save him! It's not fair!" He draws her against his chest and rocks with her, holding on even as she slapped his back. "Why didn't we get here? Why can't things just stop going to hell?" He's quiet for a long while, just holding her until she goes limp against him.

"What was that quote Tyler liked to say when you complained about your pregnancy? The one that always made you laugh?"

"Tyler said a lot of shit when I was pregnant, Dusty. You're gonna have to be more specific." He chuckles softly and she can feel his breath ghosting over her hair like the spindly fingers of a White Woman.

"It can't rain all the time." She closes her eyes, remembering the second month of her pregnancy when she felt like the morning sickness was going to kill her. It was before they discovered the wonders of peppermint tea and Tyler had been watching The Crow on a loop. She'd loved the movie, but he'd lived for it during finals.

"That's right," she sighs, rubbing her hand over his back in a silent apology. "It can't rain all the time."

"Juli," Meggie calls.

"We can't let her in here. I don't need to coax her down from a panic attack while I'm still trying to keep my own at a distance." She can feel the anxiety building, a rippling sensation through her nerve endings that makes her want to pull her hair out just to focus on something else, anything else. "Come on." Meggie is halfway to the cave when they come out, pausing with one foot disturbingly close to a corpse.

"Are they in there?"

"No, they must have been taken," Dustfinger tells her. "I saw a bear's paw print in there, so my guess is the soldiers came to capture the Black Prince. I don't know why they'd bother with taking the others, but soldiers aren't exactly paid for their superior thinking. Someone might have gotten away during the struggle, so I want you and your sister to stay here while Farid and I look around. Okay?"

"Fine."

"Do you have something to protect yourself with, little bird?" Julianne looks around and settles on a fallen branch, clutching it like a bat. "Do you really think that'll be much use?"

"I went to college on a softball scholarship," Julianne states. "Armored or not, a branch against the head is going to hurt." Dustfinger looks torn but gives up with a sigh, patting her cheek. "I got this, Dusty. You two go play detective." Dustfinger and Farid disappear into the trees, leaving the girls behind as the early evening creeps in.

"How are we going to get Mo and Resa back," Meggie asks after a moment. "How are we supposed to set things to rights when we're not even supposed to be in this story?"

"Maybe we are supposed to be here." Julianne settles down in the mouth of the cave, patting the spot next to her. She can smell thyme and old flowers, above all that she can smell the sweet scent of Resa's perfume and she wants to live in that smell. Meggie sits next to her, breathing in the lingering smell of peonies.

"How do you mean?"

"We've been connected to Inkheart since we were kids, Meggs. Maybe we were always meant to be in this story with our family. Maybe our job was to set things right using ink and paper." Julianne shrugs when Meggie arches her brows. "Or maybe we just have bad luck. Who knows?"

"I'm going to side with the bad luck option. We have no good luck lying around."

"No, we certainly don't." They sit in silence for a moment or two, then Julianne's talking again to keep the oppressive quiet at bay. "How was life with Resa back? Does she still carry stones in her pockets?" Meggie smiles, leaning against her sister with a quiet sigh.

"She took me to the lake near that old castle and we skipped the rocks there. At night she brushes my hair and hums this lullaby like you used to. It made me cry at first because I'd think of you on those nights, but then the ache became less awful and more a fond thing."

"She used to do the same thing with me, you know. One hundred strokes with a lullaby or a poem. I was always partial to Lenore, but then I'm the morbid one of the two of us." Meggie laughs and it's such an innocent sound that Julianne wants to keep it in her heart forever. "For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, the life still there upon her hair but not within her eyes."

"I always thought that poem was sad. I still do."

"I like to think of it as bittersweet. Resa liked the one about fairies best, she'd recite it whenever we went for walks." Julianne laughs now, remembering being a little girl with no other thought in her head than of being a fairy princess. "She used to tell me that fireflies were fairies and they granted wishes to people."

"Maybe they are in our world." There's a rustle at the tree line and then the other two are in view, a little girl balanced on Dustfinger's hip. The girls don't stand to greet them, don't say a word until the boys are standing a few feet away.

"Who's this?"

"She says her name is Lianna," Dustfinger replies, setting the girl down on her feet. She can't be more than five, her eyes glossy with tears. "Farid got her to talking, she said there were a lot of silver men that came charging into the camp. They had snakes on their breasts and loaded their prisoners onto a cart."

"Come here, sweetheart." Julianne opens her arms and Lianna flings herself into them, curling in her lap like she's trying to make herself invisible. "How'd she escape?"

"Her mother sent her to hide in the trees. Farid, ask her how many other children were here." Farid nods and kneels in front of her, holding up one hand.

"How many children were with you," he asks. With his wide eyes and beguiling smile, it's no wonder why Lianna would feel safe with him; he's practically like the strolling players she's grown so used to. Lianna taps three of his fingers, whispering the names of each child—Fabio, Tinka, Merle. "Meggie? Are you alright?" Julianne glances to her right and finds that her sister has drawn her knees against her chest and buried her face in the skirt of her dress. She used to do this after a particularly bad day at pre-school, curl up and pretend the world doesn't exist around her.

"What do we do now," Julianne asks, resting one hand between Meggie's shoulder blades. She's too skinny. "Do we go back or go forward?"

"Both," Dustfinger says. "Nettle and Cloud-Dancer will be here soon enough, you'll tell Cloud-Dancer what's happened and he can find some of the strolling players most loyal to our prince. Nettle will take care of the child in the meantime while you three return home and tell Roxane what's going on."

"What about you?"

"I'm following the tracks to see where they lead."

"We already know where Mo is headed, Dustfinger. Silver men with a serpent on their breast? Those soldiers belong to the Adderhead."

"Aye, that's my conclusion as well. Tell Cloud-Dancer to send any correspondence for me to the Spelt-Mill in Argenta, I'll check in there occasionally."

"Farid and Meggie can deliver that message, I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are. You're going home and keeping Dustin safe."

"I'm coming, too," Farid states, standing up and knocking Jink to the floor. The marten doesn't seem too put-out, curling his tail around Lianna's thin ankle and arching into her pats. "I swore an oath to keep you safe, remember?"

"The best way you can do that is by doing what I said." There's anger simmering in Dustfinger's eyes and Julianne understands it all too well. Everyone here apart from Lianna has the same rage bubbling inside them just waiting for its chance to spill out like bubbles from a witch's cauldron. "Stay here and do as I say!"

"No!"

"Dammit, Farid—"

"I'm not some kid you get to boss around," Julianne interrupts, standing so abruptly that Dustfinger falls back a step. "That's my family that's been taken and you can't stop me from going after them!" She spins on her heel to look at Farid, narrowing her eyes in a glare. "You, however, are a kid. You're going to look after my sister until the others arrive and then you're going to see her back to Fenoglio's. Do you understand?"

"You're not my mother," he says, just as vehemently. "I don't have to do what you say."

"You will do as I say or I will drag you back to Ombra by your ear! Now take care of Meggie." Farid bites back what he wants to say after a quelling look from Dustfinger. Julianne turns her gaze to her sister next, Meggie finally looking up. "Meggie?"

"Yes," she asks, looking far too stressed for someone so young. It makes Julianne want to tear the world apart. Meggie is supposed to be enjoying her life, catching fireflies and reading her stories, not worrying about the fate of their parents. She shouldn't be so fucking tired at fourteen.

"Read."