Page 31 of Wings of War

“Yes.” Merrik folded his letter and neatly slid it back into the envelope. He met Fieran’s gaze, something in his brown eyes even more serious than usual. “I suspect we will see our dachas as the warriors they once were rather than the inventors and businessmen they have become, before the year is out.”

Fieran nodded, dropping his gaze to his letters. For seventy years, his and Merrik’s dachas had been Prince Farrendel and Iyrinder Loiatir, partners in the AMPC and the wealthy inventors of much of Escarland’s infrastructure.

But they’d once been the warrior Laesornysh and his faithful bodyguard. Sure, Fieran caught glimpses of the warrior of stories in those morning practices with his dacha.

Yet the warriors of the legends were greater, more deadly, than anything Fieran had ever witnessed. His dacha was just…his dacha. It was hard to picture him with so much blood on his hands no one was even sure just how high his body count in the previous wars was.

If war came, Fieran’s dacha would have to become the warrior Laesornysh once again.

And Fieran wasn’t sure if he was prepared to see it.

Chapter

Eleven

Standing next to her bunk, Pip tied back the upper part of her long wavy curls, leaving the rest down. For once, she wore a nice set of trousers and shirt in the elven style, though the cut of the shirt was more fitted in a human style.

While the shutters on the lower halves of the windows were kept permanently closed to give the women in this barracks privacy, morning sunlight poured through the upper half. The miniature train that Mak had carved for Pip rested on the top of the shutters of the window next to her bunk, casting a train-shaped shadow on the floor. The sight sent a stab of homesickness through her, and she worked to swallow it down.

While the Escarlish Army didn’t allow women—yet—both the elven and troll armies did. In the past seventy years, all Escarlish Army bases had been forced to accommodate visiting female elf and troll warriors for war games. Once the accommodations were made, Escarland had begun employing more and more female civilians on the bases for various roles. It was likely a matter of time before certain branches—like the Flying Corps—opened to Escarlish women. The coming war might even make Escarland desperate enough to lift that restriction.

Currently, this bunk room held several secretaries, a few nurses, two telephone operators, and Pip, the only female mechanic.

Pip checked that her hair had been sufficiently tamed as best as she could by feel. “Are you sure there will be enough room for me?”

“Oh, yes, the more the merrier!” One of the nurses leaned closer to the one mirror the group of them had scrounged up as she applied bright red lipstick. “That unit of flyboys got a pass today too, so Todd requisitioned a truck. It might be tight in the back, but we’ll fit all of us.”

“I don’t mind snuggling up with a few of those flyboys.” Chelsea, one of the other nurses, fluttered her lashes in an exaggerated manner.

“As long as they take the time to clean up.” The final nurse in the group gave a shudder. “One of them had to stop by the hospital for a pulled muscle after a ruck march the other day, and, ugh, he was gross.”

“Must not have been one of the elves.” One of the secretaries stepped closer to the mirror, straightening her neat shirtwaist and skirt. “Everyone knows elves even sweat pretty.”

Pip clamped her mouth shut and didn’t mention that she’d met one of those elves—half elves, actually—the other day. These girls would be sure to go into a peal of giggles if they realized one of those elves was a prince.

Not that Pip blamed them. She had totally gone into hero-worship breathiness over Fieran’s dacha right in front of him. That had been embarrassing. What a way to make an impression.

Pip nudged the nurse out of the way long enough so she could peek at herself in the mirror. Her hair was actually behaving today, lying in gentle waves just past her shoulders.

Then she returned to her bunk, grabbed her bag, and looped the strap over her head so that it crossed her body and rested at her side. It weighed heavier than most would expect, considering it had a wrench tucked in there. It was always best to be prepared, whether to fix a truck or bash a too handsy guy over the head.

Pip, the three nurses, and the two secretaries made their way from their barracks, across the main square of Fort Linder, and found the truck parked to one side of the drive, pointed toward the distant smudge that was Bridgetown.

As she and the other girls approached, Fieran and a whole bunch of other young men wearing uniforms that were nicer than the fatigues they normally wore approached the truck from the other side.

Fieran met her gaze, and his resting smile brightened into something wider, sparkling in his eyes.

Ugh. Did her heart have to give that little flutter at seeing him? She didn’t even know Fieran beyond that one conversation. He just happened to be the son of her childhood hero. And the kind of guy she had a physical attraction for, in general.

Though, why her flutters weren’t as strong for the second elf—or half-elf, most likely, considering he’d joined the Escarlish Army—with short-cropped chestnut hair that walked at Fieran’s side, she couldn’t say. Perhaps she just needed to talk with that half-elf, and she’d find herself infatuated with him as well.

A rather handsome human man bowed to Pip’s companions and held out a hand, waggling an eyebrow in a suggestive way. “Would you like a hand up into the truck, ladies?”

Chelsea, the most flirtatious of the nurses, flicked her hand at him. “Yes, but not from you.” She turned to one of the other young men standing by. “You’ll help me up, won’t you?”

The young man stammered something, then finally held out his hand. The nurse winked at him, then used his hand to steady herself as she stepped up into the truck.

The nurse dating Todd rolled her eyes and rounded the truck, presumably to join her boyfriend in the square, enclosed cab.

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