Page 10 of Fly to Fury
Fieran scanned the bay before his gaze settled on her. He headed in her direction, that easy grin on his face. After meeting his dacha, she could see the similarities in the way Fieran moved. The same deadly grace, the same aura of power, even if Prince Farrendel wore those things with a hard edge and Fieran with a more easy carelessness.
A flutter started in the pit of her stomach and worked into her chest. She tried to ruthlessly squash the feeling. How dare Fieran look so…so…him,making her heart react, when they couldn’t be more than friends for the duration of the war? If ever.
Fieran halted, giving a brief nod to Mak—likely assuming he was just another random mechanic—before turning to her. “All settled in?”
“My tools are settled in, at least. I haven’t tracked down my bunk yet.” Pip gestured to Mak. She had to play this all casual and unconcerned. Not like a potential future boyfriend was meeting a member of her family for the first time. “Fieran, meet my brother, Maktorekk Detmuk-Inawenys.”
“Mak for my friends.” Mak stuck out his hand to Fieran, a grin creasing beneath his beard.
The two of them were of a similar height, though Mak was as burly as a troll, making Fieran’s slimmer build look small next to him.
“Nice to meet you.” Fieran shook Mak’s hand. If he was nervous at meeting her brother, his grin and gaze never wavered.
Something in their expressions told Pip that they weredoing that guy handshake thing where they assessed each other’s manliness based on grip strength.
Still smiling, Fieran withdrew his hand, seeming to brace himself. “I’m Fieran Laesornysh, captain of the Half-Breed Squadron.”
“Laesornysh?” Mak shifted, as if thrown for the first time in this conversation.
“Yes. Son ofthatLaesornysh.” Fieran’s mouth tipped wryly.
Mak shot a look at Pip. “Really? Pip, you never mentioned that you were serving with Prince Farrendel’s son.”
While her family had likely guessed she was somehow attached to Fieran’s squadron, considering all the publicity Fieran had gotten after the battles and that she was stationed in the same place at the same time, they wouldn’t have known how well she knew Fieran, given that there was a lot she couldn’t write about him. She wasn’t even sure the military censors let his first name slip past, much less his last name.
“I couldn’t. Fieran’s location is considered a military secret.” Pip hunched as she tucked her hands in her pockets. Mak’s gaze pierced far too deeply. He knew about her hero worship of Prince Farrendel. He’d know how hard it would be for her to keep a secret like this.
Mak nodded, as if that explained everything. But his gaze was still flicking between her and Fieran.
Her rescue came in the form of Pretty Face, Stickyfingers, Tiny, Lije, and Merrik wandering in their direction.
Stickyfingers gestured at the bay around them. “This is quite the place.”
“Though our new billets leave something to be desired.” Pretty Face grimaced and shuddered. “The tents are justcanvas. With a dirt floor. Adirtfloor! I’ve never slept somewhere so rudimentary. Well, except for our army training.”
Lije eyed him. “Really? You’ve never slept in a building with a dirt floor before?”
“What, you have?” Pretty Face gawked at Lije as if he couldn’t fathom it.
Lije just shrugged. “The cabin I grew up in had a dirt floor for years. Ma was really happy when Pa finally planed some wood for a floor.”
“The tents are cleaner than most tenements in the poorest section of Aldon.” Stickyfingers shrugged far too nonchalantly. Pip wasn’t sure she wanted to imagine what Stickyfingers had experienced in Aldon’s slums.
“I will likely find a troll to put a stone floor in my tent. Perhaps some low sides.” Tiny grinned, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. Even though he stood over a foot shorter than Mak, he was just as broad and muscled.
“I will likely do something similar with wood.” Merrik rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps you should beg Lt. Rothilion to help redesign your tent, Pretty Face.”
Pretty Face scowled and gave that exaggerated shudder again. “No, thanks. I’ll put up with the dirt.”
Pip worked to keep her laughter from bubbling up. Lt. Rothilion had been far less punctilious since Fieran had saved his life, but she couldn’t see him lowering himself to something as mundane as construction projects.
But who knew? Maybe the elf lieutenant and the other elven pilots would be willing to do something. After all, they would be living in tents with dirt floors too.
Time for a distraction. Pip gestured to the flyboys. “Mak, meet some of the flyboys of the Half-Breed Squadron. Pretty Face, Stickyfingers, Tiny, Lije, and Merrik. Everyone, this is my brother Mak.”
“Your brother?” Lije blinked as he glanced from her—barely five foot tall and a petite curvy—to Mak—over a foot taller than her, muscled, and broad as a troll warrior.
“What happened?” Pretty Face waved between the two of them.
