Thanks again to my amazing reviewers! Your comments make me smile and laugh, but most importantly, they provide inspiration and support, both of which are much needed. I love you guys. 3 This chapter is a little slow, but the ending is worth it. Promise.

Alek stood, shocked. He believed Dylan when the boy had told him that his guess was incorrect; he wasn't sure why, after their recent disagreements, but he believed him nevertheless. But if it wasn't that, then what was it? He racked his brain, trying to scrounge up other reasons, but his lack of sleep was beginning to lash back at him with a vengeance. He couldn't put all the evidence together anymore, not without everything falling apart. A small voice somewhere in his mind told him to just forget it all; nobody's life was in danger, and nothing was at stake, so he shouldn't worry about it. But he overruled it. Now that he had started this thing, he had to finish it, no matter what implications arose.

He stumbled over to a drawer and pulled out a notepad which he had been allowed to have, at his request, shortly after he came aboard the Leviathan again. He enjoyed writing down his thoughts, although it was a far cry from a diary. And right now, he needed an organized list of what he had figured out so far. He knew that there was a secret, first of all. He wrote that down in a big bubble in the middle of the page. And he knew that Dylan had been nervous lately. He wrote that too, putting it in another bubble then connecting the two with a line. He continued connecting various bits of helpful evidence until he had an entire web. He spoke strangely, he was a brilliant fool, and he loved the ship even more than Alek did...

None of this made any sense! Alek thrust his head into his hands and concentrated solely on the paper below him, but he couldn't draw any connections between all the ideas. He sighed, and his stomach chose that particular moment to let out a particularly loud complaint. He glanced down at the breakfast Dylan had left him. Despite how long their encounter had taken, the omelette still looked lukewarm, and he did like marmalade a lot. Perhaps Dylan's secret could wait. He picked up a fork.

By the time Alek was finished, he had managed to lull himself into a different state of mind. Dylan's problems were Dylan's problems, and he had to stop obsessing over them. It was alright to stop something that he had started, and nothing bad would come of it. He had been a bit of an ass as well, and if he was going to keep his only close friend on this ship, he was going to have to be more considerate. If Dylan ever decided to tell him, then he could, but otherwise, Alek would content himself with not knowing. It probably wasn't that important anyways. If it was, then he would probably have figured it out by now. And more importantly, they both had more important things to worry about. He could be heir to an entire empire, and yet here he was, worrying about the fact that his friend was keeping a secret from him. That was hardly as mature as it ought to be, and if he acted like this, then he certainly wasn't ready to inherit that throne. He knew he was a stronger person than that, so, he decided, it made sense to act like it.

For now, what he needed was sleep. He wasn't hungry or thirsty anymore, there were a few scraps of leftovers for Bovril when he woke up, and he had an entire day to plan for. A small nap was the best plan of action for the moment. Perhaps a couple hours, and after that, he could do some stretches then practice fencing... it would certainly be harder without Volger or Dylan around to serve as an opponent, but he could still practice his basic stance and techniques.

If he just went to sleep as he was, his hair would undoubtedly become horribly messy, and his clothes would likely wrinkle, but Alek had learned not to take himself quite so seriously. Besides, he would probably be without company in the following hours, until someone came with lunch (probably Mr. Newkirk again). There was no reason not to just lie in bed and go to sleep, so that's exactly what he did. Or at least, what he tried to do. The lying in bed was quite easy, but the going to sleep took a while. His mind was still buzzing from his failed attempt at figuring out Dylan's secret, and from their little confrontation. He took care to keep the curiosity out of his thoughts, with moderate success, but their verbal skirmish kept creeping back into his weary mind. There had been something there... something very odd. His foggy brain couldn't figure that out either, but some aspect of the entire conversation had just been strange, almost unreal. He had hardly acted himself, and Dylan had seemed like a different person as well. There was something that kept nagging at his subconscious, but whenever he grasped at it, it darted out of reach. Eventually, he began going in circles, and shortly after that, he dropped off into the mercy of sleep.

Alek was unsure whether it was the bright sun or the knocking on the door that woke him, but it was probably a mix of both. He stumbled out of the bed, running a quick hand through his hair. As he had feared, it stuck up in all directions like a hedge, but he had no time to fix it. He had snoozed until midday. He dashed to the door and opened it; as he had expected, Midshipman Newkirk stood outside. He seemed a bit more amiable than he had the first time he had arrived; over the past days, they had formed a wary friendship, if it could be called that. It was tolerance, at the least.

"Come in," he said cheerfully. Despite his hasty awakening, he felt much better with a few more hours of rest, and he felt as if the rest had restored his usual state of mind. Newkirk nodded his thanks and entered, replacing the old plate with the new. Bovril, now awake, hopped up onto a chair and sniffed a banana that had been placed on the side. Alek let it; it looked as if the banana were there for the loris anyways, and not him. There was also a boiled egg that he suspected was meant for sharing.

Newkirk asked, "So how is that investigation going? Have you figured it out yet?"

"No," Alek responded. "And I don't intend to, at least not anymore. Mr. Sharp's secrets are his own, and I think that I was assuming too much when I thought that he ought to tell me. There might be circumstances I don't know about, and more importantly, it seems so important to him that figuring it out might put our friendship at risk."

"Well, whatever knocked that bit of sense into your head, I'm glad for it," Newkirk remarked. "It seemed quite silly of you to go about stomping on his heels, so to say. It would be nice to know, it's true, but his issues are his own."

"Agreed," Alek stated with a grin. A thought, unrelated, came into his mind. "By any chance, did you have any free time? I can't go and see Count Volger whenever I want anymore, and Dylan is probably avoiding me, so if you're able, is there any chance that you could join me for a fencing lesson?"

Newkirk dodged the proposal. "I would, you know. I have a little experience. My da taught me for a while when I was younger. But middies are hardly free to do what they want with their time, so I'll have to say no. But if you want, I could talk to Dylan about coming to see you again once in a while. Besides, me coming to give you food instead of him, that was supposed to be temporary."

"That would work as well," Alek said thoughtfully. "Thank you in advance."

"Farewell for now, then, er, your Highness," Newkirk said. "I'll tell you what Dylan says." He waved then turned and head out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Mr. Sharp," Bovril commented.

A cold shock hit Alek, as if out of thin air. In that moment, everything came together. Dylan's voice cracked high, not low. He was unusually skinny. He never changed around Alek or Newkirk. He avoided bathing when he could help it. Volger had noticed his secret because of the way he held himself, and the way he defended Alek...

Dylan Sharp was a girl.