Chris slipped outside and strode from the hut with no destination in mind. Soon though, he felt a pull. His father had been born in Nova Scotia and had settled in Salem, Massachusetts, and worked as a fisherman.

What did Chris have in common with his father other than appearance? Not much, he believed, except a love for the water. Chris had been practically born with gills.

He kicked off his doll-size sandals, ones he constructed himself out of string and recyclable material, and stepped into the lagoon he had spotted earlier. It was a water-loving fairy's nirvana. The cool, clear pool rippled rhythmically as the cascade plunged into it.

Paradise even had a scent. The pink wildflowers nearby seemed to consume the direct morning sunlight, and, in return, they filled the humid air with their praises.

Even knee-deep, the water was wearing away the sharp edges of his mood. He was about to take his shirt off and dive under when he heard a voice.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Cassie's concern was even more soothing than the water was. And only a few minutes ago, she had instilled fear in the hearts of the haughty and powerful. The discrepancy was enough to tie his tongue and confuse his male pea brain.

"I'll make it," he replied.

To avoid looking at her—worried she could actually read his thoughts—he waded in deeper. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her toes on the bank, carefully positioned just before the waterline. "Do you not like the water?" He turned around completely and took it all in—her, her stance, her fear. It wasn't a wade, it was a full jump in, all forbearance gone in one epic splash.

Cassie's head popped up. "No, it's beautiful. I could stand here and watch the waterfall all day. I would rather not be submerged in it, however."

For her, water was the bad guy? Then he understood. To a cave-dwelling fairy from the far north, deep water was probably linked to paralysis and a sure death.

He recalled, though, how enchanted Cassie had been just the day before at her first sight of the ocean. She had probably never gone swimming in her entire life. Perhaps she had a longing for fun and leisure, a chance to enjoy youth and some normalcy for a change. But for her, especially, it wasn't ever within her reach, not without help.

He stepped closer to her. "It's not that deep here, and the slope is gradual. And besides, I've already scanned the area for swamp monsters."

Cassie stumbled backward, the color draining from her face. "Swa-swamp monsters?"

Chris muffled an outburst of laughter. "That was a joke."

"You may want to laugh at my expense, I see. Unlike you, I grew up believing in fantastical creatures because I am one. On the contrary, I feel it's safe to say that you didn't even believe in fairies eight days ago."

"Eight days. Is that all it's been?" He had to laugh. The alternative would have been a downright mess. "That's true, I guess. Anything is possible, so I should watch my step. But if you'd like to take your chances and join me. . ."

He offered his hand to her.

Cassie's shaky arm lifted. She held it underneath her chin. The conflict was real. Her dread was tangible.

Before she could make a decision, Chris's jaw clenched and his spine tightened, almost beyond his control. His arm lost its fortitude . . . to help, that is, and it drifted back to his side.

Cassie must have noticed this abrupt shift because her head snapped toward the reason.

Scott joined them by the water's edge. Chris crossed his arms and turned his back. His attention returned to the silt underneath his feet.

"Cassiopeia Labelle," Scott said.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Mr. MacRae," Cassie responded as if they were bowing and curtsying at court. She kept things cordial but cool, the boundaries still in place. "I apologize for our misunderstanding earlier. We've been through quite an ordeal in the past week, Chris more than anyone."

"I completely understand."

"And if you don't mind my asking, how did you figure out who I am? You left Pyxis long before Andromeda married my father. I am surprised that you know the name Labelle at all."

"I recognized you, eventually. You look like a Labelle crossed with a Sauvageau."

"Did you know my father?" Her change in tone suggested that she knew little about her own father but was eager to know more.

"Yes, I did. Perseus was a friend of mine. I did my best to stay in touch with him, to get a better idea of your mother's . . . transgressions. The last I heard, he was expecting the birth of his child. He must have had some pressing reason to get too close to the fire, or he never would have . . . and then after your birth. . ."

Cassie nodded. "I know the rest," she said sadly.

Chris then remembered Andromeda's nickname—Queen Widow Spider. He hadn't given much thought to Andromeda's other husbands, besides his own father, and should have realized that Cassie's father had been among the queen's victims.

If Perseus Labelle was one of Scott MacRae's friends, he wasn't just some power-hungry fool who got what he deserved. Perhaps Perseus had been intelligent, kind, and soft-spoken, like his daughter. Maybe he would have adored her, given her everything she ever wanted . . . if he had been allowed to live.

"I'll tell you more about him sometime," Scott continued. "But for now, would you mind if I talk to my son?"

Cassie sought visual confirmation. Chris gave her an upward nod, and then, like a dignified princess, she bowed her head and walked away.

For a few silent minutes, Chris paced around in the water. He was going to listen to his father's side of things, but he didn't intend to make it easy for him. He waited, leaving it to his father to speak first.

"So how did Cassiopeia end up joining you in Pyxis?"

"You knew we were in Pyxis?" Chris lashed back, his delivery not just an inquiry. It came out like an accusation.

Scott didn't scowl or redden. In fact, he didn't even flinch. "I assumed so when Kimo told me about Alana's death. The American media may have labeled you as 'missing' or 'on the run,' but I knew who was responsible for your disappearance. I feared they would have had you executed in Pyxis, regardless of what you knew or didn't know. But then there were reports you were seen in Connecticut. I couldn't predict where you would go from there. But I stayed optimistic that you would make wise decisions and go into hiding, here or wherever."

His father seemed as if he'd been at least a day or two behind the actual state of things. Ignorance was no excuse, but, even if Scott had wanted to help, they had been going in and out of worlds too quickly. If Scott joined the chase, they might all still be chasing.

Chris sighed and said, "Cassie helped us escape. I don't think she meant to join us for the long haul, but Andromeda chased us out, literally on our heels. After everything we've been through, I'm just as amazed as you are that we made it here alive." He paused, and for the first time, he looked at his father directly. "And what about you? What's your story?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. For starters, why did you abandon our mother, your wife?"

"The truth is. . ." Scott's sigh was heavily loaded, seemingly in regret. Even stone will eventually erode with pressure and persistence. "I never should have gotten involved with your mother. After my first marriage, I had a bad taste in my mouth. I had endured enough heartache and seen enough death. I was prepared to remain, in human form, a bachelor forever. Then your mother found me, not the other way around, and she changed my outlook. When she told me she was pregnant, I was . . . beside myself. Alone, I was vulnerable. But with a family. . . ?

"The secrets I kept almost ended us. If I told her, I would have lost her . . . and myself . . . and you. You both deserved better than that. So, I pulled it together and assumed full responsibility for keeping the secrets contained. But I lived every day in fear for your lives—yours, your brother's, hers. You probably never noticed me looking over my shoulder, wondering if and when they—she—would find us. In downtown Salem, I always checked the lampposts. It was the most likely place they would hide. The coast was clear until a few years ago. Andromeda's Crown Champions were there, watching the crowds go by, and my eyes may have lingered on them too long.

"Since you and your brother were fairly self-sufficient and out of Massachusetts, and Skylar was healthy—I had no reason to expect that she'd become so ill, so quickly—it was the right time to remove all traces of my human existence, leave decoys to throw them off, and go to the only place I ever found that accepted me for who I was, despite the problems they'd inherit. They look up to me. They need me. And we need them. They have common goals and a growing army of mixed heritage. Those without wings aren't treated any differently for that reason alone.

"All those years ago, I brought you here to Hawaii because of a legend I had heard, one about fairies that could both fly and change form. I assume you've heard of them by now as well—what Pyxis would call Royal Modifiers. I was curious to see if I could find any before Andromeda did.

"Amazingly enough, the house we rented was in the same neighborhood as the Jokuras' house. Kimo didn't live there anymore, but he kept an eye on his family. And Alana was suddenly spending a lot of time at our place. One night, I glanced at the kitchen light—a nervous habit of mine—and saw his silhouette. I managed to capture him and after I introduced myself, I set him free. It wasn't an instant or easy friendship, but we grew to trust each other.

"When I returned a few years ago, I joined Kimo's efforts to rebuild the Kāne Army. They've come a long way since the first time I was in Hawaii. And they—or we, I should say—continue to make progress. But even to this day, the Kanaloans, our northern rivals, keep pushing for absolute control of the Ewa Forest. We've attempted to negotiate the terms for peace, but repeatedly, they choose war.

"As you probably know by now, your mother was human, and I did offer to bring her to Hawaii. I would have done everything to make her comfortable and keep her safe in some nearby town. But she decided to stay behind because she was in love—"

"With who?" Chris asked angrily and in disbelief.

"Two dimple-faced toddlers," his father countered. "Yours, I might add."

"Well, she needed you at home. You had to have known that, even while you were off gallivanting in the jungle, being someone else's hero."

"If that's what you still think, I am highly disappointed. . . ."

Chris shook his head and shot his eyes to heaven. He couldn't believe his father was acting so self-righteous when he was clearly in the wrong.

"I thought you, with your military experience, would understand," Scott continued, "that sometimes we need to leave those we love behind to fight for what's right. The conflict may seem far removed to those at home, but that's because we're doing our best to prevent it from spreading.

"The fairy world is a treacherous one. Pyxis is among the most powerful of the fairy kingdoms, yet there are others out there. Some of the fairy leaders have a reputation to earn and uphold; comparatively, they would make Andromeda seem benevolent."

"I'll take your word for it," Chris replied. "But I still don't understand why you never told us. Had I known you were being hunted, that my brother and I were identifiable because of the fairy mark you gave us, and that my children—those lovable toddlers—would get caught up in all of it, then I would have been more careful. And Alana would still be alive."

"I am sorry," Scott said softly. "There was protection in place. But it failed you for some reason. I don't know what went wrong, but I intend to find out. I assumed you would be safer without ever knowing the truth. Paranoia is usually the first thing they look for. The mark comes second."

"I was always paranoid anyway. I could have used that to save lives. Instead, everyone thought I was crazy. On most days . . . I believed them."

"You're not crazy. You're just . . . my son, through and through. I always intended to tell you, but it was never the right time."

"And speaking of time, you couldn't find some to make an appearance at Mom's funeral?" Chris made sure to ask.

"I know there is no excuse that could make up for my absence. But I found out about her declining health too late. And the unit I was heading was embroiled in an ugly border dispute."

"You're right. Even that excuse isn't good enough. She was your wife, and I had to take care of everything. It took its toll on my marriage, my family, my stability. While Joe, in the meantime, was too busy being Joe."

"Chris, I appreciate all you've done and understand why you're so resentful. I just hope, sooner or later, you can find a reason not to hate me."

"I don't hate you," Chris admitted. "I just need . . . some time."

"Fair enough."

Chris didn't want to be angry anymore. But things in the future had to be different. "From now on, could you do us a favor and let us know anything about your life that might, even in the remotest way, affect ours?"

"I will." Scott's voice cracked on those two words.

Chris stopped pacing and stared at the waterfall. His father entered the water at his side. Looking away from each other, they stood in silence, yet for the first time there was an inkling of mutual understanding. They had more in common than their appearance. And they still had much to be thankful for.

Their unyielding dispositions would put them at odds, same as always, but at least they were on the same side . . . and always would be.