“So what’s got the Empire of Annwyn on your tail?” Sorrel finally asked, setting down her fork. “I mean, you must’ve done something to have all those warships looking for just you.”

Coppelius went silent, looking into the depths of his cider. “It’s better for your safety if you don’t know.”

He looked up quickly to Sorrel, and something softened in his gaze. “I wish I could. I really do. But you’re risking your lives enough by helping me as is.”

“We could help you more, if we knew what was wrong.” Celine leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her chin balanced on her folded hands. “I can see you have an honest face, and everyone knows that Annwyn isn’t exactly an upstanding operation. I have no reason to think that you did anything wrong to end up on their wrong side.”

“I—thank you.” Coppelius looked smaller beside Sorrel. There was something about him that looked lost, uncertain, even scared. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Sorrel turned her head, surprised to see that it was Gwynn who had spoken. Indeed, Gwynn was staring him down with those dark brown eyes they shared, the same intense, warm eyes as their father’s.

“You have your reasons,” Gwynn continued, standing up. “We said we’d help you, though, and we will.”

“You should at least stay tonight, while the curfew is in place.” Sorrel turned back to Coppelius and took his hand. “You won’t get anywhere without the constables finding you. And besides, you’re injured.”

Coppelius smiled at that. “But I am recovering quickly.” Still, he sobered. “I’ll stay, though, if you have the room.”

“Luckily, we’re a bed and breakfast.” Celine also stood and took the tray. “If there’s anything we have enough of, it’s room.” 

“You can stay in our room.” Gwynn placed her mug in the sink and soaked it in water. “The window seat should be plenty of room, yes?” 

“I should think so.” Coppelius bit his lip.

“I’ll go ahead and change,” Gwynn continued, as she headed toward the hallway. “I’ll let you know when you’re done.”

“And I’ll get some of my husband’s old clothes.” Celine paused in front of the sink. “They might be a bit roomy, but they should do for the night.”

With that, she hurried off out of the common room, leaving Sorrel and Coppelius alone. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, staring at how Sorrel had intertwined their hands so casually. 

Even she was surprised at how easily contact with this boy came to her, yet how her heart raced when she did. 

“Of course,” she answered. “You’re safe here, like I said.”

“Oh.” His voice cracked, and he turned away. But not before Sorrel caught the glimmer of a single tear down his cheek like crystallized starlight. 

“Here, we’ve even shut the blinds, so no one should see you in here.” Sorrel turned the mechanical blinds to the closed setting as Gwynn set the last spare pillows and blankets on the padded window seat. “Will this be comfortable enough?”

“I’ve stayed in far worse.” Coppelius paused, turning pink. “I mean, it’s more than enough. I’m indebted to you. Truly.”

“We’d do it for anyone.” Gwynn shrugged. She stepped back, drawing her silk robe more tightly around herself. “I’ve just got some mending to do, then I’ll turn my desk light off.”

“It’s alright, I’m not sure how much I could sleep anyway.” Coppelius sighed, tugging at the loose shirt that had once belonged to the girls’ father. “I don’t know how I’m going to get my ship back. The Annwynese army was forcefully boarding—that’s why I had to eject. So they probably have it in the holding bay of one of the bigger war ships in the fleet.”

“We’ll help you,” Sorrel promised, taking his hand. “After all, Gwynn is one of the best mechanics in the entire galaxy.”

“Oh, are you?” Coppelius turned to where Gwynn now sat on her bed, the basket of items to mend beside her on her cot. 

“I just like fixing things.” Gwynn smiled shyly. “Whether that be the pants Sorrel ripped climbing the scrap heap, or the heating unit in the parlor.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Sorrel laughed. “You actually made a hoverbike out of parts from Madame Abelard’s junkyard that year I wanted to fly in the Stardust Arena races. Flew like a dream, too.”

Sorrel shook her head and smiled at the memory. 

Coppelius grinned. “So you’re a pilot, then?”

Sorrel’s smile faltered, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Not exactly. I would if I could.”

“But you were in one of the Stardust Arena tournaments?” He sat down on the window seat. “Those are famous!”

“One of the few reasons people come to this nowhere-world,” Sorrel agreed as she sat down next to him. “But I only made sixth place. Not really enough to move forward. And it’s not like we could try again, because the dishwasher broke and we needed to get some money, fast, so we sold the hoverbike.”

“Oh.” The smile faded off of Coppelius’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Sorrel shrugged. “It’s fine, it’s just how things are.” 

She turned her head to look at him. “But you’re definitely a pilot. What’s it like, in space?”

“I’m not sure how to put it into words.” Coppelius tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “I’ve been traveling for so long among the stars, I wouldn’t know how to compare it to anywhere or anything.”

“You say that like you aren’t our age.” Sorrel gently poked his shoulder. “Old soul.”

“If only you knew,” he said with a wistful smile. “But you would be a pilot, if you could?”

“Of course I would.” Sorrel reached to the open shelf underneath the window seat and removed a bulky black box. 

She flipped up the sliding lock to see a dark green glowing screen. She placed her finger to it. The box vibrated, and with a high-pitched chirp that perhaps was better described as a shriek, it opened. 

“My father left all this to me when he died,” she explained as she removed star-maps and starship schematics. “This was all that was left of his spacer days. He was from one of the other rural Outer Worlds, Pastoria, but he always wanted to be among the stars.”

She removed almanacs and travel guides to other planets and took out his pilot’s license and military discharge papers. “He joined up with the Society of Worlds’ fleet for a while, as one of their peacekeepers.” 

Coppelius nodded, his indigo blue eyes intent on her. The way he looked at her, Sorrel felt as if he were truly seeing her, truly listening in a way she only really felt around her sister before. 

“It was on a routine stop to Perrault that he met our mother.” She removed perhaps the most precious thing she owned. It was a silk flight scarf, red as roses and still smelling faintly of the cologne her mother had liked the most. “The way they told it, it was love at first sight, and he said he couldn’t leave.”

She placed the scarf and the items back in the box. “He left the army and married my mother. Her family didn’t like it, as far as they were concerned, he was a space pirate. Army history or no.”

Coppelius paused, his voice dropping to a murmur. “What happened to him?”

“Starsickness.” Sorrel punctuated the curt word with the click of closing the box. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“I have.” Coppelius was staring at the far corner of the room, only to shake his head slightly and return his gaze to Sorrel. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s one of the worst fates of a spacer.”

“The oddest thing was that he hadn’t been to space in years, by the time it caught up to him.” Sorrel tucked the box away. “But it doesn’t matter—I always wanted to be like him. But not as a starfighter—as an explorer, or an adventurer. He always wanted to do those things too, but he never had the opportunity,”

“You will,” Coppelius said, his voice surprisingly grave. There was a knowing glimmer in his eye. “You’re going to do great things, Sorrel Marchand. You have the stars in your eyes.”

Sorrel felt heat rise into her cheeks. “I don’t know about that, but you’re very kind.” 

She stood up quickly, and turned to face him. “We should probably try to get some sleep. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but we’ll help you get away from the Empire of Annwyn.”

“You don’t have to.” Coppelius met her eyes.

“I want to.” Sorrel glanced at Gwynn, who folded the last shirt into the basket. “You’re just going to have to accept that.”

“I guess I will.” A faint smile played at the corners of Coppelius’s mouth. “Sleep well, Sorrel.”

“Thanks, you too.” Sorrel turned her head quickly before he could catch more of her red face. 

Luckily, right on cue Gwynn turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness. Sorrel flopped onto her bed, diving in between the warm quilts. In some ways, it was impossible to even try to sleep with all the excitement around her. 

The mysterious stranger, the fleet in the atmosphere, the promise of adventure.

Still, as her head hit the pillow, she found herself plunged into a world of dreams.