In the week after receiving Elena's letter (technically it was from her new husband's lawyer, but I'm not such a fool that I don't think she's the one behind it) my insomnia returns and my appetite vanishes. If not for Sky, I don't know how I'd cope.

He helps with the kids and the house, and keeping me grounded and sane. After the first night, when he'd thought I'd left the light on and instead found me seated at the dining table at 2 AM, staring into space with the letter in my hands, he'd taken me out to his bed and kept me there.

I'd been sleeping with him ever since (once he'd convinced me that the kids were fine, and that sleeping ten yards from the house did not amount to abandonment).

Sleeping isn't all we do, though we don't do more than we've already done, and I'm grateful Sky hasn't pushed for more. I don't want him to think I don't want him, but I'm not ready for something more intense.

Meanwhile, beside the letter and all it entails, there are several more family gatherings to get through before everyone goes home. Whenever I see my parents and siblings, it feels like I'm entering a minefield, treading a careful line between not wanting to worry them, and not wanting to keep secrets again — especially about Elena.

At the same time, I know it will cause them distress, and Dane might go feral at the mere mention of Elena's name; so, for the moment, I keep my troubles to myself.

I try, anyway.

"Is everything alright, Marty?" my mother asks, resting a hand on my back. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I keep my eyes on the red-headed woman until she's out of sight. She's not Elena, but — as my mom has unknowingly observed — I've been seeing her metaphorical ghost everywhere.

I cast my mom a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired."

She nods knowingly, but her expression turns grim. "You were on your own for much longer than any of us realized, Marty, before that woman ever showed her true face. You don't know how happy it makes me to see you relying on someone else for a change, even if it isn't us."

We're sitting on a stone bench, taking a break while the kids, Sky, and my dad roam the aquarium and science center, which had been Flora and Miguel's choice of birthday outing. My eyes track Sky as he points things out to Nico and Rio, holding their hands as they move from one tank of marine curiosities to the next. Flora and Miguel are with my dad, and I frown as I see Miguel offer the older man his arm for support as they ascend to the second level of the aquarium, where, apparently, a dolphin feeding is about to begin.

"You're not the only one who feels guilty, you know," my mom says, reading my mind. "You think your father and I would have been content to do nothing if we'd known how things really were for you?"

I shrug. "Elena put on a good show."

"So did you," she says pointedly. "It's hard to trust a smile once you discover how long it's been hiding pain. So, no more secrets, alright?"

"I won't lie," I say, and decide that I won't. If she asks about Elena, I'll tell her. Instead, she surprises me, and asks about someone else.

"So, is it serious?" She nods at Sky, who thankfully has his back turned at the moment.

"I'm not sure," I say honestly. "It's only been a little more than a month."

"He's a good one, though, right?"

I wince. My track record for such judgments isn't great.

"I think so," I say, and smile. "He's a prince."

My mom lifts her brows at me. "Of the Machiavellian, or the Disney variety?"

"A literal prince," I say, laughing. "He's from somewhere called Thassos."

"Hmn. Never heard of it."

"Neither had I," I say. "He says it's a pretty small place."

My mom chews her bottom lip. "You know, Martin, when someone claims to be a prince, suspicion is not unwarranted. He hasn't asked you to wire some money to a foreign bank account, or anything, has he?"

I roll my eyes. "No, Mom. He didn't even want to tell me about his title or his family. He was worried it would change how I see him."

Not reassurred by this, I see my mom's misgivings intensify. She casts me a fond but pitying look, as if I'm a sweet but hopelessly untrainable pet.

"He seems wonderful, but you know what they say. When something seems too good to be true..." She pats my arm and sighs. "Just be careful, darling. Now, how about dinner? I'm hungry enough to eat a child. Not that I would," she adds, winking at the small boy ironically plastering sticky hand prints all over the glass right beside a 'Do Not Touch' sign.

Wide eyed, he runs to catch up to his family.

"You worry me, mom," I say, teasingly. "Sometimes I think you like to play the big bad wolf."

She stands and brushes off the seat of her pants. "I only play that game with your father."

"Ew."

Laughing, we rejoin the others, but my mom's words of warning stay with me, having settled down to nest at the back of my mind.

∼∼∼

In keeping with the marine theme, Flora and Miguel choose sushi for their birthday dinner, much to Nico and Rio's dismay. Thankfully, the restaurant has a robust kid's menu, and at Sky's encouragement, they make a few braver choices as well.

I'm planning to foot the bill — my parents and Sky are guests, after all — and watch with growing trepidation as the number of dishes and drinks pile up. By the time the meal ends, I'm sweating a little, and not from the spicy shrimp. When the waiter brings the check, however, Sky takes it smoothly before I have the chance to extend my hand.

"Allow me," he says, and deftly pulls out his wallet, slips three bills into the slim black book and hands it back. He does this so quickly I don't have time to protest, but I'm pretty sure I glimpsed Benjamin Franklin's face more than once.

Seeing my frown, he winks at me and lifts his glass of sake in a toast. "To Flora and Miguel," he says. "May your futures be bright and your wishes come true. Happy birthday."

Everyone joins in with a chorus of "Happy birthday!" as we down the last of our drinks.

As we rise from the table, I feel my heartstrings twinge: in a few short hours, it will be time to say goodbye. My parents had extended their stay for Flora and Miguel's birthday, but they'll be catching a flight home in the morning.

If there's one thing the kids miss from our old life, it's seeing their grandparents. They've hinted that they might move out here and join Dane's pack, dissolving the last ties to their land and home, having gifted its sovereignty to the Fae. On the one hand, I hope they do, as I know they'd be happy here; on the other, I'm partly responsible for the loss of our ancestral territory, and I know it will pain them to give up its stewardship. When you run the same trails, and walk the same tracts of earth; when you know every rock and tree, and the songs of the wind in the grass, and all the colors of a certain patch of sky; when you've become part of the land, leaving it is like losing a part of yourself.

Outside the restaurant, everyone stretches and groans, but no birthday dinner would be complete without dessert. As we walk down the street towards a specialty ice-cream shop, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. I recognize Dr. Meyer's number, and wave the others on as I hang back to answer it.

Doctor Emmeline Meyer had been our family doctor since before I was born, and the first thing I'd done after Sky suggested a paternity test was to contact her. She had a vast network of associates and acquaintances whom she trusted to treat unusual patients, like people whose DNA might not appear entirely human.

"A paternity test, eh?" she asks, her gravelly, no-nonsense voice having grown a little wispy with age. "What kind of trouble you gone and got yourself in now, Marty?"

"Just the same old trouble I've always had," I say, smiling at her rustic but effective bedside manner. "Nothing new."

"That bitch again? What's she up to this time?"

I glance up to where Sky is holding the door of the ice-cream shop for my parents, the kids having already bolted inside. He waves, and I wave back, pointing apologetically at my phone. He salutes me playfully and follows everyone else into the store, while I offer a silent prayer to the goddess of good sense that my parents don't let the kids go too wild with their choices of dessert.

Keeping my voice low, and conscious of other people on the street, I give Dr. Meyer the relevant details.

"Hmm, I see," she says, and I imagine her nodding her wizened head and scratching out a note on an old prescription pad. Fortunately, she's kept up with the times. "Paternity tests involve comparing genetic markers between a potential father and child — or children, in this case. Takes a specialized lab, and given what you are, you'll need someone who'll know what they're looking at. Lucky for you, I know a few people. I'll send you a list."

"Thanks, Dr. Em."

"Meanwhile, I like to think I'm not just a family doctor, but a family friend. You're not tryna deal with this all on your own, are ya? I know things were tough after all the shit went down last year, but you got people who love you, Marty. You know that, right?"

"I do," I say, and let her hear the smile in my voice. "Don't worry; I'm not alone at all."

A few weeks ago, if you had asked me if I could see myself being in a relationship again, I'd have said not in a million years. And yet, day by day, the more it seems like a relationship is exactly what I'm in. It took me by surprise — not because it was sudden, but because it happened so naturally and gradually that I barely noticed it — but I can no longer deny my feelings for Sky. I get butterflies in my stomach and a funny feeling in my chest — a good feeling, for once — every time our eyes meet. It's cliche, but he's become my anchor and my haven in the storm, and I'm beginning to have trouble imagining a future without him in it.

"All right," Dr. Meyer says, jolting me from my reverie. "I'll send you the list. And don't worry — I take doctor-patient confidentiality seriously, even when I've known the patient's parents longer than the patient's been alive."

With a last parting exchange, I hang up. Then another thought occurs to me, and I open the browser on my phone.

I might not be as proficient at research as our honorary pack librarian, Grace, but I know how Google works. After 'Thassos' turns up nothing but sites related to the Greek island Sky had mentioned, and 'Kingdom of Thassos,' brings up the same, sweat breaks out across my brow.

Surely, an independent country with a monarchy would merit a top result?

I delve into the wilds of pages 2, 3, and 4 nonetheless, going deeper into a results list than I ever have before, and yet turning up nothing of relevance.

Maybe 'Thassos' is his country's name for itself, and internationally it's called something else. Still, a search for 'Nihon' or 'Nippon' will still bring up Japan.

Pocketing my phone and taking a deep breath, I wipe a hand over my damp brow. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation; and as soon as we're alone, I'll ask him, and Sky will give it to me.

For the moment, that's what I have to believe.