They didn’t stay in the hotel room for long. As soon as the door had closed behind them both, Coppelius had taken one look to the rising sun outside, then the credits-chip placed on the table, and then looked back to Sorrel with a smile.

“I’ve never been to Lemuria before. I think we should explore it.”

Sorrel found herself grinning back. “I agree.”

Coppelius’s smile softened, a sorrow in his eyes. “And we’ll find someplace where we can talk. About everything.”

You’re in over your head. Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind. But it was too late for doubts now. Sorrel had made her choice, fueled by courage and the curiosity that had burned within her for all her life. She wasn’t like her mother or Gwynn, she could not ignore that call inside of her.

She wouldn’t. Not anymore.

She would trust this boy made of secrets and stardust. She had to, if she was going to aid him on his mysterious quest.

“It’s a deal.”

The first order of business had been finding more clothes.

“That coat is heavy for the summers here on Lemuria, and you can’t just go around in your nightgown all the time,” Coppelius had pointed out. He’d then gestured to himself. “And I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere, but I’d probably stick out less if I wasn’t wearing this.”

“The coat and the scarf are a bit much,” Sorrel agreed.

Luckily, it seemed that many businesses in the archipelago of Avalon were ready to take advantage of the new situation. Stalls filled the plazas and streets around the shops, all with brightly-colored signs competing for passerby’s attention. Sorrel noticed many other individuals with the same winter jacket she’d left in the hotel room, all with the same idea that she and Coppelius had.

“A dress for the lady?” An older Lemurian woman called out, turquoise hair pulled back by a colorful headscarf. Around the crinkle lines of her golden eyes were iridescent scale-like spots like pearls inlaid in her sun-bronzed skin. She gestured toward the dresses hanging off the metal grid forming a wall underneath the tent of her stall. “That red hair would look beautiful with perhaps a blue or a purple dress. . “

Sorrel stopped. Her breath hitched as she saw it. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

Among the traditional Lemurian dresses was a sea green, with layers of peach gauze that matched the details of peach-pink and orange flowers embroidered along the hems and edges of the dress, ending in a handkerchief hemline.

“You like this one?” Coppelius stepped into the stall, allowing others to pass them by. He looked to the stall-owner. “Anything for men?”

“Oh, yes!” The stall-owner stood, her golden eyes glowing with delight. “I believe we have a matching set, perfect for the happy couple, yes?”

Sorrel opened her mouth to protest, heat rising in her cheeks when Coppelius stretched his arm around her shoulders.

“Yes, this wasn’t exactly the honeymoon we’d hoped for, but we might as well make the best of it.” He smiled at the stall-owner conspiratorially.

The stall-owner nodded enthusiastically, rising from her table and chair to take the green dress off of the makeshift wall. “Indeed! You know how the saying goes—when life gives you the sun-fruit, you must made it into a cocktail!”

“I’m not familiar with that one,” Sorrel admitted.

The stall-owner waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll learn soon enough. There’s a reason every politician and businessman and celebrity wants a mansion in Avalon. It’s the good life here—much better than the Border Worlds like Perrault, or whichever one it was.”

Rage rose in Sorrel’s throat, suffocating and thick—but it gave way to the taste of melancholy on her tongue.

For how long had she wanted and wished and waited for a chance to leave Perrault behind? Hadn’t she said the same things?

And yet it was different, hearing them from an older woman she’d never met before, one who would now never get to see races at the Stardust Arena or shop at the Bazaar or witness the winter snows on Bonfire Night.

“Here, take the matching set, and I’ll even throw in a slip to give to Makoa down the street, he’ll discount you on hats.” The older woman continued on, blithely ignorant of Sorrel’s internal storm. She tossed the colorful clothes onto a sheet of tissue paper and wrapped it. “Tell him that Anyu sent you.”

“We will.” Coppelius smiled and offered the credit-chip.

A beep confirmed the transaction, and Anyu thrust the wrapped parcel into Sorrel’s arms.

“Enjoy Avalon, make sure to try the sun-fruit juice while you’re here!”

In spite of the little jab earlier, Sorrel couldn’t help but smile genuinely at the stall-owner. There was something so earnest about how Anyu had said it.

With that, she and Coppelius continued down the street.

By the time the sun had fully risen over the Avalon Archipelago, Sorrel and Coppelius looked more like they belonged among the water and beaches. They weaved under the palm trees, with drinks and a boxed breakfast-to-go from one of the many cafes and between the emerging crowds.

Now that it was late morning, the locals had joined the refugees, making it near-impossible to traverse the main roads and walkways. Thus, Sorrel and Coppelius were driven to wandering off in attempt to find some place to eat and talk, just as they’d thought they would earlier that day.

It was underneath one of the stone bridges that Sorrel spotted a little stretch of sand, completely devoid of people. Perfect for their purposes.

She laid down one of the towels they purchased, then set the drinks and the boxed breakfast on it. They both kicked off their new sandals and tipped their toes into the crystalline waters and looked up at the underside of the bridge.

These stone bridges connected all of the islands and are constructed in the same style as many of the buildings with their stone pillars and runic inscriptions as decoration. Yet Sorrel noticed there was something different here. Underneath the bridge and on the supports, there was arcane graffiti, in shapes resembling the runes—but noticeably different—that glowed in the shadows.

“Do you know what these are?” Sorrel gestured at the graffiti with her plastic to-go cup of sun-fruit juice. It glimmered red-gold in the plastic. A sip revealed that it was both sour and sweet, with a richness that Sorrel was completely unused to.

“I’m not sure.” Coppelius frowned, looking up from a sandwich made with round savory biscuits, with egg, cheese, sausages, and brightly-colored peppers peeking out. “I think the dye glows like that though because most pigments made in Lemuria have some kind of luminescent qualities.”

“Really?” Sorrel had never gotten a good look at the Lemurian goods at the Bazaar. Those were usually snapped up by Annwynese merchants before anyone else got in another word about it.

“Yeah, it’s also how they make their fireworks, it’s more to do with the dye than explosives.” Coppelius’s frown deepened between words and bites. “Those runes, however. . . I’ve seen them somewhere before.I don’t know where, though.”

“Huh.” Sorrel wasn’t sure to make of it—but it reminded her of the conversation that had been put off long enough. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot on your travels.”

Coppelius smiled wryly. “And it’s time I told you how the travels started?”

Sorrel nodded. “Yes. You can start now.”

Coppelius laughed. “That’s fair.”

He reached for the amulet around his neck, playing with the deep blue stone and the slender golden chain between his fingers as he stared off at the water.

“I’ve never told anyone all of this, so I’m not entirely sure where to start,” he admitted. “But I’ll try my best.”

Sorrel watched him with large brown eyes, awaiting his every word with hitched breath.

“What do you know about fairytales?” He asked, turning his gaze back to her.

Sorrel frowned. She hadn’t expected that kind of question.

“I mean, I heard stories growing up, I think everyone did.” She pondered the question. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard any stories about a character known as the Spider-Queen?”

Suddenly the sunlight felt a little colder, the water less inviting, the sunlight more dim.

“Versailles mentioned that name. He said he serves her.”

“He’s right.” Coppelius shifted next to her, setting his sandwich back down in the box and drawing his knees to his chest. “Do you know her story?”

Sorrel shrugged. “Vaguely. I don’t remember well, though. There was this beautiful storybook my father read to us when we were little, I remember the illustrations. But I hated the book because despite how beautiful all the pictures were, the story was so dark, and it didn’t end happy.”

She looked Coppelius. “There’s truth to it, isn’t there?”

He nodded. “Every world in the Society of Worlds and beyond in this star-system has a version of her story. I’d like to tell you mine.”

He looked back out to the waves. “Then you’d understand, and all of your questions will be answered.”

To say her interest wasn’t piqued would be a lie. Sorrel frowned, moving closer to Coppelius. “Tell me.”