Summer in Hawaii was progressing alarmingly fast. One hot, humid day led to another and August was soon approaching.

And conflict, though never gone, had tapered off within the village of Ilima. The natives were tolerating the presence of the Pyxians and vice versa. That tolerance was shifting to acceptance. Chris had high hopes it would improve further and mature into a lasting friendship.

In the MacRae household, routines were in place. Once Chris's back was given the "all clear" by Dr. Acma, Chris resumed his leadership position in the Kāne Army. His personal relationship with Kale was still on unstable ground, but they were at least united against a common enemy and didn't always disagree about how to proceed.

In Kanaloa Territory, no news wasn't exactly good news. Was it the calm before the storm? The abrupt shift of power into the hands of the Empress wasn't a promising development. They had hoped the civil unrest would sink "Empress Kaila," but she was allegedly finding a way to float in the turmoil. If she learned how to swim, it could mean only one thing. War. And if she was as unreasonable as everyone feared, it had the potential to be the bloodiest one ever.

Still, the news hadn't truly hit "home." He'd get up at sunrise, practice, train, and spend the afternoons in task force and command briefings.

At the end of his long days, Chris would dive into the lagoon to remove the sweat and grime. By dusk, he would return to the hut where his favorite fairy princess would greet him with a kiss, a hot meal, and stories about her teaching challenges at the village school she had organized.

They would eat like a family, clean up, put the twins to bed, and retire to their bedroom. All of his worries—short term, long term, and everything in between—had a way of abandoning him whenever he made himself vulnerable to her. That light-as-air feeling carried through the night. He had never slept better.

Life was almost too good to be true. But, like the rules, routines were bound to be broken too. And horrors from times past would not dispel just because two fairies were in love.

"How many books did you read today, Morgan?" Cassie asked at the dinner table on a seemingly ordinary evening.

"Six," she proudly stated.

"Six? All by yourself?"

Morgan nodded.

"That's very impressive."

Before Cassie had arrived, Ilima didn't have many readable fairy stories. And now there were at least a hundred, all at different reading levels. Cassie either came up with the stories herself or reproduced some of her favorites from her perfect memory. She even provided her own illustrations.

"Good job, kiddo!" Chris added. "And Ryan, how about you?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh. Then he shrugged, his face sour.

"You know you can come to me for help at any time," Cassie said gently.

Ryan chucked his spoon into his empty bowl. "Can we go play now?"

Chris and Cassie exchanged glances. They both decided, without the need for words, not to push him. It would only backfire. And it had on other occasions. Ryan had made it perfectly clear he wanted to train like his father and uncles, not learn.

"Put your dishes in the washbasin first," Chris said.

The twins did as they were told without any major objections and resumed their board game in their shared room.

Chris rose from his chair, his empty bowl in hand, and went to the hearth where a pot was still simmering. "Thanks for staying on them. I know they're behind for their age. That's my fault."

"Don't worry. They'll catch up. I'll make sure."

Cassie's slight smile was convincing, but her eyes looked mournful and weary. She wasn't sleeping nearly as well as he was. She claimed she had always been that way, but there was a lot more to it than that, most of which she didn't discuss. And he didn't pry. There would be a time for that, but, while they were in their "honeymoon" phase, they did their best to keep things "light."

Chris ladled out a second helping of stew. When he returned to the table, he squeezed her shoulder as he walked by, as if to say, "I know."

He retook his seat and began plowing through his second helping. After a month of eating hearty, home-cooked meals every night, he already felt a million times stronger than he used to be. "This is really good."

"Is it?" Cassie sighed. "I'm not convinced. You don't think there's something wrong with it?"

"No, it's fine. Why do you ask?"

His eyes zoomed in on her nearly full first bowl. While fiddling with a crust of bread, she rested her head on her palm in a way that made it seem too heavy for her arm to support.

"Something bothering you, Cass?"

Her head lifted from her hand and she gave him another weak smile. "No, I'm fine." Picking up her spoon, she lifted the broth of her stew and let it drop back into the bowl. "Although I feel slightly ill today. Yesterday, too, come to think of it. Even the smell of food has been repulsing me." She gave him a quick glance and then her eyes fell back to her bowl.

Uh-oh, Chris thought. "You do know what this could mean, right?"

Cassie spooned more stew and let it drop with no answer and no eye contact. Up and down, repeat. By the third time, there were tears in her eyes.

"You already know," Chris said, deflated.

She dabbed her tears away with a cloth napkin and set her spoon down. "Suspect," she corrected. "Though I don't have any way of knowing for sure. I'm not human. I'm not even a typical fairy. I don't cycle the way everyone else on the planet does."

"You don't?"

She shook her head but didn't elaborate.

His head was spinning with questions and he didn't know if she had any answers for him. It's not like her mother explained any of this to her or took an active interest in what made Cassie "abnormal."

"Still," he said, forging ahead regardless. "If you suspected, you could have talked to me about it as soon as the thought came to you."

"I know. I never thought . . . I was always worried . . . the Sauvageau Curse might make it difficult to. . ." She twirled her finger in the air to fill in the word she was too embarrassed to say aloud. Conceive.

"Sauvageau Curse?"

"Struggles with fertility, miscarriages, stillbirths, maternal deaths," she went on to explain. "Andromeda's mother died during childbirth. Did you know that?"

He shook his head and then shrugged.

"It won't be easy. And you and I are from different lineages," Cassie added. "That's not known to improve the odds."

"Maybe in our case, it'll be a good thing. I was an 'unplanned' child, for the record. So fairy plus human worked out okay, obviously." Chris presented himself with a flourish, hoping she'd at least crack a smile. But she was too busy wiping away fresh tears. "So be happy. Please. Why don't you look happy yet?"

"I am," she quivered. "But I'm still in shock that this is a possibility, so soon. And I'm worried. . . ."

"What else are you worried about?"

"My bloodline is another concern. There are more than a few bad apples, as you already know."

"Our children will never be treated like 'royalty.' Or brainwashed to hate everyone. That's probably more than half the battle, right?"

"Children? Does that mean you want more than one?"

"Sure! Why not? I always wanted a big family. Unless . . . is that what's wrong? You don't want to have kids?" Chris realized how hurt he probably sounded. He sighed and attempted to approach the situation more indifferently. "I mean . . . I guess that's all right. I have two already. It's just, I thought. . ."

Cassie removed herself from her chair, put the tears on hold, and climbed into his lap. She gave him a kiss to stop his rambling. "I want to have your children more than I've ever wanted anything."

"Oh!" he answered brightly. "That's a relief since you might already be pregnant."

"I only wish. . ."

"What's on your wish list other than a baby?"

"Well. . ." Her posture slumped and with her right hand she began toying with the fingers on her left hand, around her ring finger in particular. The action appeared subconscious at first. When she noticed what she was doing, she put her hands abruptly in her lap.

"You were hoping we'd be married first?" he filled in, certain it was a good guess.

She shrugged, nodded, shook her head, and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry," she said to excuse her deep, quaking sobs. "I don't know what to think. Maybe it's a bad idea. I am cursed like my mother in that regard too. With two failed attempts, narrowly escaping death both times. . ."

"You're not cursed." He stroked a hand up and down her back and didn't stop. It seemed to have a calming effect. "I just think destiny had other plans. It wasn't going to make anything easy for us. But we've come so far. We've lived through every challenge. And now we're having this discussion and death isn't knocking at our door. We've outrun it for the time being. So, can we safely say it's meant to be? And that it's meant to be now or soon?"

She gave that a chance to sink in and in that time, she stopped crying. "Does this mean you're asking me to marry you?"

Her head had lifted. Her arms were draped around his neck as she waited for his answer. Her eyes sparkled through the lingering gloss of her tears.

How could he say no?

The word would feel so wrong, but in this case, it was for the best: "No. Not officially. Even I can do better than at the kitchen table next to the dirty dishes."

At that, Cassie stood and so did he. She began to help him clear the table. "Really? When and where should I be anticipating such a momentous occasion?"

"Sorry. No hints. You'll just have to wait and see."

He didn't have a plan in mind just yet. Of course he wanted to marry her, but he never felt inclined to rush. The possibility of a baby changed everything. Among Ilimans and Pyxians alike, there was already enough chatter surrounding their relationship, much more than he would have liked. As long as he acted quickly, no one would ever have to make any assumptions about why he was marrying her.

Although Cassie was willing to join his effort to tidy the kitchen until the very end, Chris insisted that she go to bed and rest instead.

Once the twins were settled in for the night, Chris went to check on her. She was already asleep and didn't stir when he slipped in bed beside her.

She had never gone to bed this early before. He knew she was probably fine. A pregnancy, if it really was the reason she was under the weather, would be taxing on anyone's body. But he found many reasons to lie awake worrying anyway.

Is she healthy enough?

She would have to be. They didn't have a hospital to go to or even a doctor that specialized in fairy childbirth. If there was any validity to the "Sauvageau Curse," they were in for a nerve-wracking experience from start to finish, even if things were progressing "well."

How will the episode with the poison factor in? He recalled what Cassie had said to him when they were running from a fire-breather: I'm not as energetic as I used to be. It was a miracle she was even alive.

Then he questioned the world they lived in. Is it safe?

Chris knew the answer was no. War wasn't just possible. It was inevitable. He questioned his ability to protect his pregnant wife or newborn child. Losing either one. Or both! Even the thought brought tears to his eyes.

He realized they might have to leave Ilima. They were technically living in a "Zone of Protection," but Kale, as much as it pained Chris to admit, was right; too many fairies had a way in, and that number was growing. Can we trust them all?

But if they left Ilima, they would be up against the world alone. . . .

And what will Pyxis do next?

Cassie had been living with him for over a month, and he hadn't even heard a rumor of a Pyxian presence anywhere nearby. They were trouble times two, just as Simona had warned, and no one appeared to be looking for them. There has to be a catch. . . .

Chris finally drifted off to sleep, but his subconscious continued to obsess over war, Andromeda exacting her revenge, "bad apples" that might bob around in their combined gene pool, Crux Chevalier's vexing existence, and his brother and father. What ever happened to them? Could I have saved them. . . ?

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