After spending the afternoon seeing to the details regarding everyone's safety, Scott MacRae walked back to his hut, breathing a little easier.

Skirmishes with the Kanaloans had been small and isolated in recent months, and the northern border of Kāne territory had been unexpectedly quiet. Prince Haipo, the new Kanaloan leader, seemed to be more moderate than his ailing father. Perhaps they were only a few negotiations short of a lasting peace treaty. The civil war might finally be over.

The Pyxis Problem, as he called it, also seemed like less of a problem now that his boys had found their way to him. Back east, Gretchen had disappeared, as advised, and her family was still out of the country. Most of the Jokuras were safe as well and would be moved into the Zone of Protection soon enough. The only exception was Mikala. She had to remain in the hospital. Andromeda might eventually make the connection to Hawaii, but Mikala didn't know enough to be a vulnerability and her room was now being protected by the Kāne Army. Pyxis would not be able to get to her without a fight.

When Scott returned to the hut, the smell of a home-cooked meal made his stomach grumble. There was a pot of stew simmering over the fire and a loaf of bread baking on the hearth.

They had all been busy. Cassiopeia was stirring the stew, and his sons had sectioned the hut into rooms and distinct areas they were calling the kitchen, dining area, and den. Curtains quartered off areas that would require privacy, like the bedroom and the bathroom. The bare ground was even covered with a few handwoven rugs. Scott recognized the reedy material they were made from—the long grass that grew beside the hut.

"Who made the rugs?" he asked Chris as he stepped into the dining area.

Chris flipped over the chair he was building and wriggled the posts stabilizing the back of it. When he decided it was sturdy, he pushed it underneath the table. Cassiopeia then came over and set some wooden bowls down. When she walked away, Chris's head bobbed toward her to answer the question. Then Chris gave a shrug that suggested he was just as astonished, but his beaming face suggested something else.

The fairy princess could cook a meal with only a few ingredients, make intricate rugs, pull off daring rescues, scare grown fairy-males into doing her bidding, and look flawless all the while. She was almost too good to be true. And Joe was acting like her shadow, helping her, adding a clever quip at every opportunity, and Chris couldn't even allude to her without grinning.

Scott would give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment but would never trust a Sauvageau. The ice crystals in her veins would surely trump any decency she had inherited from her father.

Since the hut was big enough for only two or three inhabitants, Scott set up a tent for himself outside. He then pulled a bottle of red wine from a storage bin beside the hut. When he returned, supper was ready to serve. They all took seats and portioned out the stew, bread, and wine.

"This wine is pretty decent," Joe said while swirling his goblet. "Did you make it?"

"Make it?" Scott chuckled. "No, I bought it in Nohea. There's a marketplace there. I would have bought more if I knew I was having company."

"There's a marketplace?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. It's a couple of hours northwest of here. You should check it out sometime."

After dinner, they cleared the plates from the table, keeping only their goblets with the last of the wine, and settled back into their seats.

Scott was the last to sit down. He knew his sons needed to hear more about fairies and their family history, but he was content listening to them chat for a while. He had a lot to learn about them, too.

Scott wasn't surprised that Chris seemed more volatile than ever. His well-being often mirrored the world around him, and that world had crumbled. If others suffered, he became one with their pain. Scott remembered how his elder son had been when times were good. He would occasionally kick back, laugh, and let his charisma shine through. Usually though, Chris was too introspective and guarded to get along with. He had been that way since childhood. But from time to time, he would lower those defenses. Once someone earned his approval, he was loyal to a fault.

Joe, on the other hand, was as variable as the weather and just as hard to predict. He was always intelligent, driven, well rounded, and well liked, just as his mother was. Anything he touched turned to gold. If he picked up an instrument, he could play it. If he read a book or a play, he could immediately recite lines from it. He could ace tests without studying, make friends without trying, and then replace those friends with new ones as his interests vacillated. California and life outside of academia had seemed to change him, though. From what Scott had heard, he became a wanderer, floating from one whim to the next. If Joe wanted to succeed in the fairy world or any world for that matter, he would have to find his focus.

When the conversation hit a lull, Joe looked over. "So, Dad, is now a good time to tell us your story?"

"As good a time as any." Scott took a deep breath and ran through his mental catalog of experiences. "Any place you'd like me to start?"

"I think you should start from the beginning," Joe said.

"Like where he was born?" Chris asked Joe. "Or the beginning of time?"

"I feel like I should have asked this a long time ago, but, Dad, where do fairies come from?" Joe asked in a childish tone.

Scott recognized his son's inability to take anything too seriously. "That's a place to start, and it would explain some of the social differences between Royals and Modifiers."

"Sounds perfect, then," Joe said, and Chris nodded in agreement.

"Well, one myth says that fairies came from outer space."

Joe leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and let out the chuckle of a skeptic. "You have to be kidding. Outer space?"

"Don't almost all myths begin in the heavens?" was Scott's response to that.

"Then you should have said that. Outer space is different."

"Do you want to hear the myth or not?"

Scott watched his sons exchange doubtful looks. Then Cassiopeia leaned forward, her face aglow with candlelight. "Your father is right," she murmured. "There are alternative theories, but our mythology regarding the Earth's colonization involves a pioneering duo. After years of retelling, they inherited the names Cassiopeia and Cepheus from Greek mythology. They named their first daughter after the galaxy from which they came—Andromeda. As for the exact reason for their departure from the Andromeda Galaxy, I would imagine your father's version of the story is different from the one I've been told."

"How so?" Joe asked.

"I'll let your father tell his version, and then I'll clarify any discrepancies."

"Cassiopeia is indeed correct," Scott went on. "There are different versions of the story. In the one I grew up hearing, the legendary Cassiopeia was in love with a fairy named Cepheus on their native planet. However, Cassiopeia was married to King Phoenix. Cassiopeia and King Phoenix were both fliers, or what Pyxians call Royal. Cepheus was from the enslaved Modifier class, wingless and half giant, and thought to be inferior in every way. But Cassiopeia despised her husband and began an affair with Cepheus.

"When King Phoenix found out, he threw a lightning bolt at their love nest. The piece of their planet containing that nest was sent into orbit. The lovers landed on Earth near what is now Domrémy-la-Pucelle, a tiny village in the Lorraine region of France. They eventually had several offspring; each child could either fly or change form but not both. Europe had its own mystical creatures, and after many centuries, the mating among fairies, humans, elves, sprites, nymphs, and so on, we've come to the distinct populations of today. Is my retelling close to your version, Cassiopeia?"

"For the most part, yes, although there is one major difference. I was taught that Cepheus kidnapped Cassiopeia and threw the cataclysmic lightning bolt at Phoenix. In that version, the Modifier is the villain."

"You don't really believe all of that, do you?" Joe's gaze moved from Cassie to Scott.

"No, I don't," Scott answered. "I think fairies evolved as a human subpopulation. It's a matter of genetics. Still, many fairies believe the myth religiously. It's the reason why Royals and Modifiers hate each other in places like Pyxis, and it explains why many fairies and landmarks are named after celestial objects."

"Do you mind if I elaborate?" Cassie asked when Scott reached for his goblet. He gestured for her to take the floor while he finished the last of his wine. "My version of the myth has also validated the maltreatment of Modifiers for centuries. Many Modifiers live in Pyxis, yet the Royal class will never accept them, regardless of their worth. There are strictly enforced mandates telling Modifiers where they can live, eat, socialize, learn, and so on. Depending on the severity of the violation, punishment can range from imprisonment to death."

"Dad, why did Andromeda marry you, then, if she considered you inferior?" Chris put forth. "And why did you marry her?"

"Isn't that the million-dollar question?" Scott plopped his empty goblet down on the table for emphasis. "I should first describe where I came from. I was born Rigel Kincaid in a small coastal community called Herring Cove, south of Halifax, Nova Scotia. My mother was actually the MacRae. So, anyway, my family and other Modifiers belonged to a secret society of fairies called Polaris. It was nestled in the high rocks just beside the ocean. But our lifelong enemy—Pyxis—was aware of our existence. There was war, war, and more war dating back as far as the establishment of Nova Scotia. When I was young, the Pyxian king at the time, Canis Major V, was especially aggressive toward us. He didn't even have a good reason. We were peaceful, appreciated our isolation, and had a love for the sea, not for gold or power. So we assumed they picked fights with us like a bully at a playground—domination for the sake of domination. Our society was small compared to Pyxis, but we maintained our sovereignty. We knew enough protective magic to keep Polaris safe.

"One day, my father, King Naos, received a letter inviting him to Pyxis. Peace negotiations were supposedly the main order of business. My father accepted the invitation and brought me along on the journey north. My father and King Canis Major came to an agreement with deceptive ease. As a gesture of peace and prosperity, they arranged my marriage to Andromeda. I didn't love the idea, but then I met her at our engagement ball. Foolish as it may seem now, at the time I thought she was . . . well. . ."

He shrugged instead of saying beautiful or gorgeous, too ashamed to say the truth. "I asked her to dance with me and became even more . . . charmed, let's say. She was worldly, elegant, and said just enough to intrigue me. As the ball was winding down, she led me to a quiet hallway. Her kiss was intense, almost forceful, and then over so quickly. She left me there, breathless and confused but eager for our wedding day."

The wine was gone, so Scott poured himself a goblet of water and took a gulp. "Are you three bored yet?" he asked, but then he noticed their transfixed faces.

"I was losing interest for a few minutes, but now you're about to get to the good stuff," Joe replied.

"I'll try to be more entertaining for you in the future," Scott said through a slight chuckle and smirk. "Trust me when I say this story only gets better. We returned to Polaris the next day and I spent the next month preparing to leave home; part of the bargain was that after the marriage I would settle in Pyxis. I had so much to learn, they claimed. The plan was for me to return to Pyxis on my own, with my family following in time for the big day.

"As for the wedding, I anticipated a grand affair, something even more lavish than the engagement ball. But my family never arrived. Andromeda wasn't even there. The ceremony was a dry business, undertaken in the presence of her father and a few intimidating members of the Royal Air Brigade. They forced a quill into my hand and sat me at a table on which lay the marriage contract. I had a feeling my blood would have been spilled right then and there if I had refused. So I signed my life away. Then they brought me to a room in the North Wing of the Aerial Palace, a level lower than the staff quarters, and they locked me in. I had only my trunk of personal items for company.

"For weeks, I was not allowed to leave that room. Servants did bring me food, but other than that, no one, not even my wife, came to see me. I began to wonder why my father and King Canis Major found it so important that I marry Andromeda.

"One day, I was feeling rebellious and at last managed to sneak out of the room. I went exploring only so long as I dared. When I returned—unnoticed, I thought—I saw that my things were in slightly different places than they'd been when I left. At least my trunk was still locked and magically fortified on top of that, and I had the key in my pocket.

"A few days later, there was a knock on my door just as I was getting into bed for the night. I couldn't mask my surprise when I opened the door and saw Andromeda there. She asked if she could come in. I started spewing questions, but she didn't care to answer any. Without detail, she blamed her father for the many injustices I'd suffered, and the next thing I knew, she was undressing herself."

"And you were dumb enough to take that bait?" Joe chided.

"After a month alone in a cold, dark room, you would have done the exact same thing," Scott replied. "Any guesses why she was really there?"

"She was sent to seduce you," Chris answered. "She wanted the key."

"Yeah, but what did you have in your trunk that they were after?" Joe asked. "Cassie, I remember you mentioning a magical artifact. Was that it?"

⭐️⭐️⭐️

To be continued. . .