Page 78 of Wings of War

“I have, as has everyone in the chain of command. You’re the best weapon we have in the air. The last thing we need is for you to be sidelined on some propaganda parade.” Capt. Arfeld shook his head, then sighed. “But as it is, there are some who will still think this promotion is because of your name and your connections rather than something you earned.”

“I understand, sir.” Fieran sighed, understanding all too well.

A promotion was more than enough. He didn’t need—or want—a medal or parades or celebrations for what he’d done last night. It had simply been duty, and he needed no reward for that.

Fieran stood with his back to the warmed metal side of the hangar, staring at the airfield and the distant smudge that was Bridgetown. Even now a full day and a night after the attack, the taste of ash drifted on the breeze, though smoke no longer rose above the city.

A few tiny blue flowers dotted the new spring grass beneath his boots, a splash of life and cheer amid the bustle of war going on in the hangar behind him.

Soft bootsteps padded on the earth a moment before Merrik joined him, staring over the sunny, grassy field before them. After a long moment, he spoke, his tone so low no one standing near the hangar’s door would overhear. “Do you regret it?”

With the long years of friendship stretching between them, Fieran didn’t have to ask to know what Merrik meant. He wasn’t asking about the events of the attack, or not only about that. But about flying and the army and everything that had happened in the past months since that day Fieran had dragged Merrik away from breakfast, filled to the brim with dreams of the sky.

“No, I don’t.” Fieran turned to better face Merrik, though Merrik’s gaze remained fixed on some distant point on the horizon. “Do you?”

Merrik remained as he was for a long, aching moment before he shook his head. “No.”

Fieran released a breath, trying to force out the words he should have said long before now. “Thank you for always guarding my back. Even now.”

Merrik made a weary, scoffing noise, even as he shook his head. “Little good that I did. Your back does not need much protecting when you unleash your magic.”

“Still, I was glad to have you there regardless.” After the attack and the squadron mates they’d lost, Fieran didn’t want to take that for granted again.

Merrik just tipped his head in that subtle elven nod before the two of them returned to soaking in the warm rays of the morning sunlight, gathering a last few minutes of peace before they were launched back into a war.

Their new orders had come through first thing that morning. They’d be leaving in a few hours, headed north for Dar Goranth and the icy waters off the coast of Kostaria.

Their destination hadn’t been much of a surprise. With Mama at Aldon, Adry at Estyra, and Dacha at Fort Defense, that had left Dar Goranth as the one likely Mongavarian target still undefended by a warrior with the magic of the ancient kings—unless one wanted to count Rhohen, and Fieran wasn’t sure his troll cousin would appreciate the way the military leaders were counting him out.

Pip stepped from the hangar, her green coveralls rolled up at the ends of the pant legs to make them short enough and her brown curls stuffed into some kind of messy bun at the top of her head. She glanced around, and Fieran lifted a hand in a small wave to catch her attention.

As her gaze swiveled in his direction, she smiled, and the expression twisted in the pit of his stomach. Something had changed between them in those nightmarish moments standing in the ruined streets of Bridgetown, just holding each other amid a shattered world, although Fieran couldn’t have said exactly what it was just yet.

Pip strode over to join him and Merrik in the patch of warm, spring sunshine, claiming the spot on Fieran’s other side from Merrik. She reached over and tapped the silver wings pinned to his uniform. “These look good on you.”

“Linshi.” Fieran glanced first at the wings, then at her. After everything that had happened, he craved levity more than more mourning, especially if they’d be parting in a few hours. His breath hitched at the thought of never seeing her again. Swallowing, he plastered on a grin. “My dacha was in Bridgetown. I thought about waking you to introduce you but…”

As he’d known it would, her face washed pale, her eyes widening, her mouth falling open in hero-struck terror. Her voice squeaked. “It’s…okay.”

Merrik snorted softly, easing slightly farther away from Pip and Fieran.

“Maybe a different time.” Fieran rolled his shoulders in a shrug. He wasn’t sure when he’d started to find Pip’s hero worship of his dacha humorous rather than embarrassing. He gave her shoulder a gentle poke. “Breathe. My dacha isn’t here now.”

Pip released a breath in a whoosh, all but slumping against the metal siding behind them. “Fine, fine. Just…give me a warning first, all right? No just showing up with your dacha in tow or shaking me awake and he’s just right there. I’m not sure I’d survive.”

Fieran chuckled, though his laughter lasted only a moment before the weight in his chest squashed it. “I don’t know when I’ll have the chance. My squadron is being sent to Dar Goranth.”

Pip straightened, a smile brightening her face. “I’m being sent there too.”

“Oh. Good. That’s…really good.” Fieran reached to pat her shoulder, then halted short of touching her. He dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist at his side instead. “Someone in the army must have noticed that we make a good team.”

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, though what he wanted to say was eluding him at the moment, so it would have to do.

“That we do.” Pip grinned, tipping her head back to look up at him. The warmth in her eyes kindled that inexpressible something inside his chest.

With a loud tromping of boots and the bang of his shoulder hitting the metal siding, Pretty Face leaned against the hangar next to Pip, though he didn’t crowd her. He grinned, the expression pulling tight the new scar tracing across his jaw. “Did you hear that we’re being shipped out?”

“Yes. I’m shipping out with you.” Pip lightly punched his shoulder in the way she did when she was trying to pretend she was just one of the guys. “You boys aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

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