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and peered over his shoulder. “He’s gone.”
    The emptiness Ariel left behind took up more room than it should. Bertie stood and brushed the broken glass from her hair and clothing as the fairies complained in not quite undertones.
    “What a diva!”
    “Stupid, men can’t be divas. . . .”
    “Divo, then.”
    “That just sounds weird. Call him a jerk and be done with it.”
    Bertie rummaged in her pocket, locating her cigarettes but unable to find her lighter. Her knees wobbled, overcome with the fading vestiges of emotion and adrenaline, and she sat with a graceless thud.
    “D’ye need a match?” Nate’s voice was as soft as the linen shirtsleeve that brushed against Bertie’s bare arm when he sat next to her.
    “I need something, but a match will suffice for now.” She took comfort in his solid presence and the scent of seawater. “This has been
such
a Monday! I wish I’d stayed in bed, and I wish yesterday had never happened.”
    Nate lit the cigarette, omitting the stern looks and lectures anyone else would have given her. He could hardly warn her of the evils of the demon tobacco as he lit his own pipe. Once it was started, he put his arm about Bertie’s waist and gave her a bone-cracking squeeze. “It’ll be all right, lass.”
    “Somehow I very much doubt that.”
If I have to leave, I’ll
never see Nate again.
Bertie’s free hand sought out his, her skin pale against his rope-roughened paw. “Do you think . . . do you think Ariel was right?”
    “Most o’ his words are naught but pretty lies an’ truth twisted like ribbon candy, but which bit did ye mean?”
    “That I could figure out a way to take someone with me?”
    He shook his head. “Ye heard the Theater Manager. Players can’t leave th’ theater.”
    “But if they could?” Bertie tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
    Nate’s grip on her tightened, and the passing seconds were knots tied in heartstrings. “Would ye want me t’ come with ye?”
    “Yes. No! I mean, I don’t want to go, so what good is asking that question anyway?” She started to get up, but Nate caught her by the back pocket of her jeans.
    “Sit yer arse down an’ stop tryin’ t’ run away.”
    Bertie twitched but didn’t try to get up again. “Ariel was right about something, though.”
    Nate assessed how firmly affixed her rear was to the stage before he nodded. “Th’ bit about yer mother?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do the play for him, Bertie!” Peaseblossom said. “He hasn’t seen the new version.”
    Nate raised an eyebrow. “Ye’ve been stagin’ it again?”
    “I reworked the middle section,” Bertie said with a shrug. “But I don’t see how performing it now will help things.”
    “Maybe this time you’ll get it right and figure out where your mother is,” Peaseblossom said, her eyes dark and serious.
    Bertie’s argument died in her throat. “Someone cue the lights. The rest of you take a seat.”

 
     
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
How Bertie Came

to the Theater,

a Play in One Act
     
    T he lights faded up on a stool far Stage Right. Bertie entered from the wings, carrying a large prop version of The Book embossed with the words:
    THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THE STAGE
    She settled on the stool, cleared her throat, opened to the first page, and pretended to read. “My mother was an actress, and surely she was the star.”
    The curtain opened. A tight spotlight came up on a lovely young woman dressed in a sequined costume. Silver stars decorated her dark curls, and smaller stars glimmered in her eyes.
    “She was an ingénue on the rise, a society darling,” Bertie said. “Titled men filled her dressing room with roses and sent jewelry that sparkled like the night sky.”
    The spotlight expanded to include dozens of flower arrangements and heaps of diamonds. Glitter drifted gently from the rafters until the very air shimmered.
    Bertie’s Mother sat at a dressing room table, powdering her nose and brushing her hair. She addressed