Coralia had led them to a building within three pavilions of the one they had entered in. Gwynn had been unable to see it until they had entered the pavilion that served as its home, as if it had only appeared right before they had arrived.

The building looked like some of the older structures she’d seen in Lemuria, carved from pale gray stone with columns and flat roofs with statues and fountains built into the outside. Lanterns made of glowing pearls provided a pastel light, bathing the pavilion in a soft glow.

Inside, the room was fairly sterile, with no windows to the outside and more pearl lanterns. However, in the center on the raised square pedestal was a golden clothing rack with two outfits on it that was done clearly in the Lemurian style, and painted screens with the images of waves in glow-in-the dark paint that resembled the glimmers of blue starlight-algae in the waves above.

“I’ll let you two get changed,” Coralia said with a smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“But what if these don’t fit?” Gwynn asked. “I only see two on there, and well, we’ve never met before.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Coralia dismissed Gwynn’s concerns with a casual wave of her hand. “They’ll fit.”

With that, she disappeared out of the building, letting the great stone doors shut behind her.

Gwynn looked to Sorrel. Her sister seemed more reserved than she normally was, far more withdrawn within herself.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

Her twin sister’s face betrayed her before she could even speak a word. A sad smile played on her mouth. “I am.”

“Maybe they’ll be able to help him.”

“I hope that they can.” Sorrel stepped past her and approached the rack of clothes.

Functionally, the clothes were identical. Both were sleeveless knee-length dresses, with patches of different coordinating patterned cloth forming the handkerchief skirt and the crossed neckline of the blouse.

One set was a deep azure blue, with reddish-pink flowers and golden embroidery, and tones of pale pink and pale blue in some of the contrasting pattern designs. Lying draped over the hanger were coordinating fingerless gloves that went up to the elbow in that same deep blue as the background of all of the fabrics used to construct the dress.

The other set was a garnet red with gold as well in its designs, but also a sage green, pale pink, and black in some of the patches, coordinated with sage green gloves.

Set under the rack were sets of ankle boots and stockings that would be hidden by the top of the boots, easily coordinated with the outfits.

Both were coordinated to their individual tastes—as if the Governor and her associates of other young Lemurian girls about her age had known that they would arrive.

“You take red, I’ll take blue?”

Gwynn nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She accepted the hanger from her sister and darted behind one of the dressing screens.

True to Coral’s word, the clothes had in fact fit. The measurements were impossibly perfect, a comfortable fit that left Gwynn even more unsettled than she already was. She found herself pinching her arm in hopes that maybe all of this would be a dream.

But the world had ceased to be what she knew exactly four days ago.

“I guess we should go talk to Governor Albion.” She tugged at the top of the fingerless gloves, unsure of what else to do with her hands.

“Before we do, I should probably explain some things.” Sorrel was already fiddling with the asymmetric hem of her skirt. “About who the girl with the golden hair was. . . and who Coppelius really is.”

Kiana Albion was waiting for the sisters under a gazebo surrounded with pastel streamers and bushes of the magenta flowers Sorrel had seen on her ballgown before. She was set up for a tea party, as if this weren’t a crisis, Nininane and Delphine by her sides. All were dressed in similar outfits to Sorrel and Gwynn.

Speaking of whom, Sorrel noticed that Gwynn had taken the revelation of the truth behind the fairytales and the stories of the celestial kingdom of heavenly rulers quite well. Or as much as she could tell. Gwynn had gone quite quiet, and there was a cloudiness in her eyes, her mind somewhere far away.

It couldn’t be helped, really. Her sister had always been the sensitive sort, just as Sorrel had always been the brave one.

But she could only hope her sister would continue by her side. She had to move her focus to Coppelius, who clearly needed her now.

She’d been grateful that Delphine had returned and helped them. But she’d be lying if she said that she trusted the girl with the golden hair. As she and Gwynn sat down at the remaining two chairs at the tea table she tried to catch Delphine’s eye. The Ondrina girl quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing pink and raised a teacup to her lips.

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“Excellent, everyone’s here, that means we can get business done.” Kiana Albion set down her own teacup and leaned forward. “You’ve brought a galaxy of trouble to my doorstep, you know. Two Ondrinas in the same place—you practically sent out a flare begging for the Spider-Queen to send her minions after you.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Delphine sat up straight, her expression haughty. “I only came to Lemuria to escape her gaze in the first place. It’s not my fault Perraultian refugees were let in.”

“Excuse me?” Sorrel couldn’t help raising her eyebrows and her voice.

“This simply won’t do, that wasn’t actually an accusation.” Kiana sighed. “I was trying to be somewhat light-hearted about it. But never mind. I should have suspected that something like this would happen sooner rather than later. Which means that the relic inside of Castle Arcadia is no longer safe from Her Majesty’s eyes.”

“The relic?” Sorrel remembered what Coppelius told her. “Like the crystal blade?”

“You mean this crystal blade?” As Niniane spoke, she pulled the very sword Sorrel had left in the hotel room out from under the table.

“Yes!” Sorrel accepted it from Niniane. The feel of it in her hand was like coming home. “How did you get this?”

“A simple parlor trick.” The smile on Niniane’s face told Sorrel that Nininane would not be elaborating any further any time soon. “You really shouldn’t leave objects of such import lying around. You’re quite lucky Versailles hadn’t picked it up yet.”

“I won’t.” Sorrel let out a sigh of relief and stashed it beneath her chair. “But you were talking about a relic inside of a castle?”

“Yes, Castle Arcadia.” Kiana pulled back, slumping in her chair. “To maintain their center of power, the Ondrina Dynasty had several castles that connect to their homestead, the one currently known as Castle Tristerion. Their connections were severed when the survivors of the initial attack made their last stand, and the relics were hidden inside to be protected by the castle’s natural defenses.”

“Natural defenses?” Gwynn voiced the thought that had popped into Sorrel’s head just then.

“Enchantments, just as old and arcane as this place.” Kiana leaned forward again, resting her head on her hands. “That kind of magic is what hit your friend, the princeling.”

“Will he be okay?” Sorrel pressed the palms of her hands against the table. “Will you be able to help him?”

“Yes, but only if we retrieve the relic, and quickly.” There was unbearable pity in Kiana’s eyes. “The sisters of my coven are working to stabilize the princeling’s condition, but they won’t be able to hold off that spell for long. The Spider-Queen has taught her acolytes well.”

“What is the relic?” Sorrel asked breathlessly. “How will it help him?”

“I believe it was called the Wand of Light.” Niniane was the one to speak this time. “Capable of healing all maladies.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Sorrel rose from the table. “We have no time to lose—we have to save him.”

“Patience.” Kiana regarded her with narrowed eyes, but not unkindly so. “Tell me—have either of you ever practiced magic before?”

Gwynn and Sorrel shared a look. “No.”

“Really?” For the first time all night, Kiana sounded surprised. “I would have guessed that you had powerful witches in your bloodline. Your capacity for magic—well, if times weren’t so desperate, I would train you myself, or even send you to my order.”

“Your order?”

“She means the Astral Witches, like the hag who raised me,” Delphine answered, a stormy look on her face. “Which she will not be doing, thank you very much. She doesn’t need any of the witches’ schemes.”

“I believe Sorrel Marchand can make choices of her own, Delphine Ondrina.” Kiana looked from Delphine back to Sorrel. “Can’t you?”

Sorrel couldn’t help but huff a sigh of exasperation. “It doesn’t matter right now, whether some witches want to train me and my sister or not—didn’t you say Coppelius is dying?”

“You do love him.” Sorrel couldn’t get a read on Kiana’s expression as she rose from the table, as fathomless as the seas. “Well, it is in all of our best interests if the princeling lives. I suppose I should ask, if you have any last questions for me?”

“I do,” Gwynn said a small voice. “What exactly is this place?”

Kiana smiled. “Our people call it the Sunken Pavilions. Before we lost our way, lost touch with our most ancient traditions, the people of these archipelagos spent the hottest seasons living underwater, in these enchanted environments that would provide everything requested of it.”

She looked out of the gazebo as a school of fish swam by the invisible barrier between the pavilion air and the water. “We would return from the sea to the land at the Seaborn Festival, hence the celebrations. But that was a long time ago, and most have forgotten such history.”

She looked back to Sorrel and Gwynn, looking much younger, like the young woman who was just barely not a girl, just like them.

“I was lucky that I had a teacher who wanted me to revive the old ways.” She placed a hand over the white crystal dangling from the tiara woven into her aquamarine waves. Then she looked to Niniane beside her. “And I am even luckier to have sisters-in-arms who wished to follow me.”

When she looked back to Sorrel and Gwynn, she was more resolute, polished.

“Which reminds me, if you want to navigate the defenses of Castle Arcadia, you will need a conduit.” She looked to Sorrel. “That sword should act as a conduit.”

When she looked to Gwynn, she frowned apologetically. “I’m afraid I haven’t any conduits properly prepared for you.”

“It’s alright.” Gwynn lifted her wrist, and Sorrel spotted it for the first time, over the elbow-length fingerless gloves. It was a silver bracelet with fragments of blood-red stone dangling from it like a charm bracelet. “I think this is made with crystals like that. . . isn’t it?”

Kiana’s frown deepened. “The craftsmanship on that is Annwynese—where did you get this?”

“I don’t know, it just appeared after the ball and the explosion. . .” Gwynn trailed off and looked up at Sorrel with panicked brown eyes. “You don’t think it’s cursed or something, do you?”

“No.” Kiana’s expression was thoughtful. “I don’t sense any dark magic about it.”

“It could be used to track her, though.” Delphine narrowed her eyes at Gwynn. “You may have put us all in danger!”

“She didn’t know.” Sorrel stood up. “But that means we’ll have to move faster.”

She turned to Kiana. “You said that you’ll take us to Castle Arcadia?”

“Yes.” Kiana nodded. “But Delphine Ondrina is correct. We should hurry.”

“I’m sorry, everyone.” Gwynn’s cheeks turned as red as the crystals on her wrist.

“Don’t be sorry, it won’t help anyone.” Kiana’s voice was gentle but firm. “Instead, at least you have the right tool to help. Rejoice in that fact.”

With that, she started out of the gazebo. She stopped only a few paces from it and she turned back to the party lingering underneath. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Sorrel picked up her sword and hurried after her. Coppelius needed her and she wouldn’t let him down.