All her life, Sorrel had lived in a city. But she’d never seen a city quite like this. Every building looked more like an ivory palace, with pillars and parapets and stretching far above most of the buildings she had seen in the Avalon Archipelago, and even most parts of Hoffman.

“Watch your step now.” Coppelius turned back to her and took her hand as she stepped off the ferry.

“Thanks.” Sorrel nearly lost a sandal to the gap between the ferry and the stone dock, so she was grateful for the assist. She glanced around her, taking in her surroundings.

From every level hung colorful banner and streamers trimmed with golds. Passerby in silks and golden masks rushed about, cackling and leaping with the ecstasy Sorel only witnessed during the rowdier hours of Bonfire Night. Others carried large shopping bags and boxes with names and logos on the side that Sorrel had never seen before.

“Where are we, exactly?” She started following Coppelius through the crowds. He held tightly to her hand, keeping them together through the thousand faces.

“Carnivale, the high-end luxury district of Lemuria.” Coppelius was looking around, clearly seeing something that she couldn’t. “They say that there’s at least one party every night on the Avalon Archipelago—but in Carnivale, there’s one every hour.”

“This isn’t an archipelago, though, is it?” Sorrel noticed that instead of roads for hovercraft, there were water canals with bridges in-between that curved upwards to give watercraft much smaller than the ferry clearance.

“No, it was once an island, but I remember hearing about the construction efforts to create something more solid when it started sinking into the ocean.”

Sorrel was struck by the sudden awareness that to passerby, one might assume that he was speaking about reading or learning about the construction that had likely taken place hundreds of years ago—the city looked old to Sorrel’s young eyes.

But if he had been around when the Society of Worlds had been born, he’d likely seen or at least been alive when the reconstruction of Carnivale had occurred.

“You said that you sensed something that felt like your father.”

Coppelius’s steps had slowed as they entered a chokepoint in the pathways. Outside the buildings were haphazard tents and stalls, just like the main streets of the Avalon Archipelago. However, given the waterways and the narrow stone streets, it was more suffocating. Sorrel feared if she let go of Coppelius’s hand even for a second, she would be lost in the sea of people.

“I did,” he finally said. “I mean, I do.”

He scanned ahead in the crowd, his eyes strangely blank. “I don’t understand—he should be here. He should be close. It feels like the sun, it’s so bright. Not even the sword was like this. . .”

Sorrel frowned, and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. Then she felt it. Like the tugging of a string, a glimmer in the corner of her eye. Nothing she could point to as an obvious source or cue.

But she turned her head and saw her. 

There was a small alleyway between buildings, with a trickle of people opting to pass through there than continue to brave the main street. By the third backdoor was one makeshift tent. A deep purple trimmed with gold, it was striking against the ancient gray columns. On the floor of the tent was a colorful rug made of a similar material to Sorrel’s dress and several cushions. Sitting on the rug was was the girl, no older than Sorrel herself.

She was radiant—there was no other word for her. Most striking about her was the white-blonde hair that glowed like Coppelius’s, woven into a braid that curled around her on the floor with sea-glass and ribbon entwined in her tresses. Around her neck and wrists dangled crystals and pendants.

And yet one that dangled right over her heart caught Sorrel’s attention immediately. It was the same spark that had awakened in her chest in the Reserve, kindled by the proximity of its like.

“Over here.” Sorrel tapped Coppelius’s shoulder and nodded in the girl’s direction.

He blinked, eyes widening. “I have no idea how I missed her.”

“But she’s definitely then—“

Coppelius nodded, cutting her off. “Follow my lead.”

They wove their way between the other passerby, and entered the alleyway. As soon as they stepped foot off of the main street, the girl looked up from her cards and met their eyes. The girl froze, her fine features blank—only for a moment. Faster than Sorrel could’ve guessed, with a flick of her wrist the cards returned to a stack in the girl’s wrist and she stowed them in a pocket of her long green silk dress. A sweeping flourish of the arm, and the tent disappeared, with a small purple bag dangling from the slender golden chain around the girl’s waist.

“Sorry, no more readings for today,” the girl announced in a clipped voice as Sorrel and Coppelius drew closer.

“We’re not here for the readings, we’re just here to talk.” Coppelius raised his hands in a placating gesture. “We’re friends.”

The girl’s eyes darted between Coppelius and Sorrel. “No, I don’t think you are.”

She turned, only for Coppelius to catch her shoulder.

“Wait, please.” He spun her back around. “I’ve only met one other like me.”

The girl held her chin high in defiance. Sorrel couldn’t help but think of the princesses in her painted storybook. A storybook that was likely ash by now on Perrault, she realized.

“I can see traces of both of them in your aura.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been careless. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

“I don’t—“

“Of course you don’t.” The girl glanced over her shoulder and when her eyes returned to Coppelius and Sorrel, she looked less angry. “It’s not safe to speak here.”

She then stepped out of Coppelius’s grasp and walked past him without another word.

Sorrel stared after her, unsure of what had just happened. The girl then abruptly stopped and turned. She placed a hand on her hip.

“Well? I’m not waiting all day for you two.”

Coppelius and Sorrel exchanged a look, then scurried to catch up to the girl.

The sun was starting to sink back into the sea as the girl finally stopped. She’d led them through several roads and alleyways over the past hour or so, with the intimate knowledge of Carnival and its pathways only a well-seasoned local could have. Sorrel saw it in her own movements back in Hoffman.

Her heart ached to think of the shortcuts, the little corners and pathways of the city that no longer remained.

But now they stood in front of a stone wall, and the girl looked over her shoulder once more. She then looked back to the wall. The sea-green stone that had caught Sorrel’s attention began to glow as the girl whispered words Sorrel could not hear. Stone rumbled and the ground shook as the wall gave way to a doorway that wasn’t there before.

“After you,” the girl said.

Sorrel looked to Coppelius. He nodded for her to go first.

“Fine.” Sorrel turned her nose up into the air and entered the hidden staircase.

The top of the dark staircase opened to a room that reminded Sorrel of the tent. Banners and curtains were strewn everywhere, the main centerpiece being a sofa and a stove, both low to the ground. There was a window with red gauze curtains over it, and several plants growing in the sill.

“Find a cushion, make yourselves comfortable, it’s not like I’ll be staying here much longer.” The girl slid a trapdoor closed over the staircase and adjusted the rug to cover it.

“Why are you leaving?” Coppelius obliged and sat, and patted a cushion next to Sorrel.

She elected, however, to remain standing.

The girl scurried about, packing up boxes and trinkets into bigger boxes hidden beneath fabric.

“You’ve drawn the eyes of her and her servants here, and even if you’d never run into them before, it would have been only a matter of time anyway before they would have come looking for the light.” The girl stopped and knelt by her plants. Her amulet glowed again as she waved her fingers over them. Raindrops fell from her fingertips, watering the plants.

She looked over her shoulder at Sorrel and Coppelius. Her eyes were the same indigo as Coppelius’s, with silver flecks like stardust in the iris. Her matching eyes were now filled with pity rather than ire or fear, as they had been before.

“There’s many things the old hag was wrong about.” She spoke softly, as if more to herself than to Sorrel or Coppelius. “But she wasn’t wrong about this. She’d always told me that if I met another who carried stardust in their blood, to run.”

The girl looked back to her plants and sighed. “She said that the Celestial Dynasty died for a reason, that all of their problems deserve to remain in the past.”

She stood and turned back to Sorrel and Coppelius. “She also told me that our light is too strong when united. The dark knows the light like nothing else—and they love to snuff it out like nothing else. That they know you makes it all the more dangerous. They know your candle and will be able to find it across any dark sea.”

Coppelius raised his eyebrows and blinked. “I had no idea—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s clear you didn’t know.” The girl folded her arms over her chest, a more protective than defensive measure. “No one has taught you anything, have they?”

“No.” Coppelius’s shoulders rose and he averted his gaze. “I know a little bit of our story. But that was all my mother knew. My father left before he could teach me any of the important things, like magic. That I pieced together.”

The girl nodded. “Right.Your father was the one of the Celestial Dynasty, then?”

“I was told he was the Prince of Light.”

The girl’s eyes widened and she stumbled back a step. “You’re joking—I know you must be of our bloodline, the signs are there as plain as the day, and yet. . .”

She turned away and began to walk in a circle, a hand to her chin. Only for her to stop abruptly. She looked to Sorrel and frowned. “And who are you? You shouldn’t be in this story.”

Sorrel crossed her arms over her chest. “A friend. My name is Sorrel.”

The girl hesitated. “Delphine.”

She then looked down. “And you?”

“Coppelius.”

“And your father’s name?”

Coppelius twisted the ring on his finger. “Apollo.”

“Then it is as you’ve said, your father truly was the Prince of Light.” Delphine nodded. “It brings great hope, to know that he lives still.”

“I don’t know.” Coppelius’s eyes were far away now. “I’ve never met him. He might be gone for all I know.”

Delphine shook her head. “We mustn’t lose hope.”

“We’re looking for him.” Sorrel stepped towards the girl. “You could help us. You clearly know more than we do.”

Delphine shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Coppelius scrambled to stand up next to Sorrel. “The Spider-Queen’s a danger to the rest of the system. If we worked together to find my father, maybe he could stop her once and for all.”

“I might have left behind most of what the old hag who raised me taught me, but I do believe her about the fate of the House of Ondrina.” Delphine toyed with the crystal amulet. “All that dies should remain dead.”

“I don’t believe that.” Coppelius reached for Sorrel’s hand. “I wish you could help us, Delphine. I want only what’s best for this star.”

“As do I.” She turned away. “But even if we combined our lights, we are not strong enough to fight the Spider-Queen, or the puppets under her dominion, or her champion. I’m sorry, Coppelius.”

“But you said that if she’s encountered us, or her champion has—I’m guessing that’s Versailles—that we’re in danger already.” Sorrel stepped forward again. “Aren’t you in danger because we’ve brought their ‘trace’?”

Delphine looked back to her and smiled wryly. “I know a little more than you do how to protect myself from prying eyes. Her contamination will not leave its lingering traces on me. And you shall not see me again—if I am lucky.”

“I understand.” Coppelius clearly didn’t. “I wish that you find what you’re looking for, Delphine Ondrina.”

He then looked to Sorrel. “I guess we’ll have to find our leads elsewhere.”

“You don’t care, then, about the rest of the system?” Sorrel couldn’t help herself, the words came falling out of her mouth. “As long as it doesn’t affect you, as long as you get to keep running from you, no one else matters?”

Delphine whirled back around, but she said nothing. In fact, she looked uncertain, afraid. “I—“

“They destroyed my world, do you know that?” Rage and grief came pouring out. “My home was completely destroyed just to smoke out one person who’s never done anything to them. You don’t deserve to be hunted and neither does he!”

Delphine avoided her gaze, and still said nothing.

“Fine.” Sorrel swiped her own tears away. “You said I’m not supposed to be in this story. Funny that a girl who has no place in this story is willing to do more than you to save this system.”

She then looked to Coppelius. “Let’s go.”