The Marchand sisters shared a room on the second floor overlooking the main street. A large window seat was built into the wall, almost as long as a bed. This was where Sorrel found the boy, still unconscious when she and Gwynn entered their room.
“I didn’t know where else to put him.” Gwynn removed her boots by the door. “He only had the one cut. I think he fell off of one of the seats in the capsule and hit his head on impact.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Sorrel kicked off her boots and removed her coveralls. There was a relief to just wearing her camisole and shorts. There was no more grime from the junkyard, no more bundling up to fight against the winter cold—just comfort.
“I hope so.” Gwynn bit her lip. “He’s been out a little longer than I thought he’d be.”
Right on cue, the boy stirred.
“Oh!” Sorrel dashed over to where he lay on the window seat, a strip of gauze taped at the back of his head.
He blinked up at her with indigo blue eyes. “Where—where am I?”
Sorrel glanced over her shoulder. Gwynn had joined her like her own shadow, silently and without asking. “You’re safe now, you weren’t awake at the crash site.”
“Crash?” He sat up quickly, only to wince and slowly recline. “Ow.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Gwynn asked.
“Just my head, I think.” He propped himself up on his elbows—a happy medium, Sorrel supposed. He looked to the sisters again. “I crashed?”
Gwynn and Sorrel shared a glance.
“It makes sense you wouldn’t remember, you hit your head pretty hard,” Sorrel said. “But yeah—you ejected your escape capsule and it landed right in the middle of the junkyard where we were working. You were lucky you didn’t crash into the middle of a street or something.”
“Oh, did I? Sorry.” His cheeks turned pink. “I think I remember now. . . Where is my ship?”
“We don’t know,” Sorrel said. “But when we saw Annwynese war ships show up in the atmosphere, we thought it was better to get you out of there. So we took you home, where we can come up with a better plan.”
“There’s no ‘we’ here.” His voice was gentle but firm, and he sat up all the way, swinging his legs down to the floor. He gripped the side of the bench, bracing himself. “I’m sorry you’ve all gotten mixed up in this, but this isn’t your fight. They’re here for me. I just need to get off this world, and they’ll leave everyone alone—“
“No can do,” Sorrel interrupted. She folded her arms, moving to stand in front of him. “The Annwynese formed a blockade and the Governor’s banned anyone from trying to enter or leave until they get what they want.”
“That. . . makes things more tricky.” The boy looked at her. “Where are we, again?”
“Oh, right, never mentioned the world!“ Sorrel smacked her forehead. “You’re on Perrault, in Hoffman—if you’re familiar with Perrault?”
“Vaguely.” He nodded. “Who are you? I want to thank you. Even if I’d rather others weren’t involved, you did save my life.”
“Sorrel and Gwynn Marchand.” Sorrel gestured at her sister. “You’re in our family’s bed-and-breakfast. We smuggled you in, though, so no one knows you’re here. Well, except for our mother.”
“You—Marchand?” He tilted his head. “I recognize the name.”
“I guess it would be hard not to.” Sorrel shrugged. “There’s lots of us on Perrault.”
“We’re one of the oldest families who’ve lived here,” Gwynn said. “We have a lot of cousins. Maybe you’ve met one of them before?”
“Not me personally, but my father. . .” he trailed off, looking at Sorrel like an animal caught in the headlights of a land speeder. “I mean, thank you.”
The room drifted into silence. It felt like a small eternity before Sorrel finally spoke. “Well?”
The boy frowned at her. “Well, what?”
“We can’t just call you ‘hey, you.’” Sorrel gestured between herself and Gwynn. “We have to call you something. Thought it might as well be your choice.”
She placed a finger on her chin and tilted her head. “Although, I could come up with a nickname, if you prefer. There’s Starboy, Asteroid, the Traveler—“
“Coppelius.”
“What?” Sorrel hadn’t heard it in her determination to come up with more nicknames, and his quiet tone.
He paused, looking as if he were thinking better of it. Still, he met her eyes. “You can call me Coppelius.”
He stood up. “Again, I thank you both for your kindness, but I can’t stay. I have to leave.”
“But you can’t, the Governor’s declared a state of emergency.” Sorrel didn’t move. “There’s a curfew and the constables are out—they’ll catch you, and if they know that Annwyn is looking for you, they’ll turn you in to keep the peace.”
“It’s a risk I have to take.” Coppelius took a step forward, only to plunge forward.
Sorrel caught him by the shoulders. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, at the moment.”
He braced himself on her arms, returning to an unsteady standing position. He opened his mouth as if he were going to argue, only to stop as his eyes met hers. She found herself breathless.
“I guess not,” he admitted with a sigh.
Sorrel gently pushed him back down into the window seat and sat next to him. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you.”
“It’s what we do.” Gwynn managed a smile. “Speaking of which, Maman’s probably done with dinner already. Might as well get out there before she calls us.”
“Then she can think we’re psychic,” Sorrel joked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Coppelius laughed, but there was an uneasiness to it.
“Come on, I’ll help you.” Sorrel took his hand, and pulled him to his feet, more quickly than she’d planned.
He almost tumbled into her again, but he managed to steady himself. Still, Sorrel found her cheeks heating up at their proximity.
“Sorry!” Sorrel backed away, keeping her hand in his. “Is that better?”
“Uh. . . yeah, thank you.” His face had turned red, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Sorrel.
They managed to get out to the little living room that functioned similarly as the Marchand family’s dining room. It was an open area with the kitchen, the only door being over the stairwell to keep out any of the guests. Sorrel was grateful they were entitled to at least that bit of privacy.
Coppelius was not nearly so unsteady on his feet by the time they made it to the living room, but he held onto her hand like it was a lifeline nonetheless.
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“I hope you’re hungry.” Celine smiled warmly as she set the large tray down on the low table in front of the well-worn sofa. “I take it you’re a long way from home?”
Coppelius nodded. There was something wary in his eyes, and he let go of Sorrel’s hand. Not that she minded for long.
“You saved some cider for us too?” She cried as she accepted a mug with a delicate pattern of red and white roses.
“Of course I did.” Celine smiled. “You were out in the cold looking for those parts, after all.”
“Looking for parts. . .” Coppelius turned to Sorrel. “So you don’t just run this. . .bed and breakfast, you said earlier?”
“Oh, no, I’m afraid that doesn’t quite pay all the bills, as much as we’d like them to.” Celine took her favorite armchair, with the needlepoint pillow with an elaborate heart set upon it.
Celine picked at the fruit basket on the tray. For a moment, her cheerful, warm expression faltered to one that Sorrel knew all to well. The grim, gray exhaustion that had set in after her father’s death.
“We scavenge the wrecks of old ships at Madame Abelard’s junkyard for the parts that are salvageable and are either still in good condition or can be restored,” Gwynn elaborated. “Madame Abelard cuts us a share of the profits.”
“She’s a little too old to be climbing around in the wrecks of old starships, so we’re happy to help her,” Sorrel added. “If everyone pitches in, everyone wins.”
Coppelius smiled, but there was something nostalgic—a little sorrowful, even—to it. “I grew up somewhere very similar. I’m glad there are still places like that out there.”
“It’s not really everyone, Hoffman isn’t the village it once was, you know.” Sorrel paused to take a sip of her cider. “But there are enough of us who look out for each other, who aren’t just merchants and spacers passing by.”
The room drifted into a comfortable silence of good food and kind company. Between the warm cider, the fresh strawberries imported from one of the warmer Inner Worlds, and the hearty cassoulets, it was a feast on the Marchand family’s table.
“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.