Page 12 of Fly to Fury
“Is King Weylind here?” She hadn’t seen him, nor had Prince Farrendel mentioned his presence to Fieran. But the base was huge, and the meeting of father and son had been too brief for catching up about Fieran’s various famous family members.
“Not at the moment.” Mak shook his head, gesturing. “The eastern forests are still under periodic fire bombing, and he’s been helping Prince Ryfon hold the line there. But he occasionally visits Fort Defense to assist the war effort here.”
Pip probably shouldn’t be so relieved. She’d already metseveral of Fieran’s famous relatives—King Rharreth and Queen Melantha of Kostaria, Princes Rhohen and Sontar, Generals Julien and Vriska Ardon—but she wasn’t sad to put off meeting another one. Getting used to being on the same base as Prince Farrendel Laesornysh, knowing she’d likely run into him many times, was difficult enough.
What would happen if she actually courted Fieran? All those highly ranked people, scrutinizing her to see if she was good enough for him.
At the tightness in her chest, she shoved those thoughts aside before her panic showed on her face.
“But…” Mak’s grin turned mischievous. “General Farrendel Laesornysh is here.”
Prince Farrendel Laesornysh. Never mind. Full-blown panic mode activated. Her chest squeezed. How was she going to survive meeting him again? She’d embarrassed herself so badly that morning. He probably thought she was some kind of dunce.
“I met him.” Her voice squeaked out high and breathy.
“And…” Mak prompted, leaning his elbows on the table.
“And I didn’t even manage to say a word. I totally froze. It was awful.” Pip dropped her face into her hands, her face burning just remembering it.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” The mischievous tone dropped from Mak’s voice, replaced with his big brother comforting one.
“It was!” Pip dug her fingers into her hair. “And I’m the head mechanic for his son’s squadron. I’m bound to see him again.”
“Yes.” Mak drew out the word, his gaze going searching again. “About Fieran…”
Nope. She wasn’t talking about Fieran and that complication. Nope, nope, nope.
“Fieran’s a good friend. As are all the flyboys. Merrik is…” Pip babbled something about each of the flyboys.
The furrow remained in Mak’s brow, and despite her chatter, she didn’t think she was fooling him at all.
Fieran strolledbeside Merrik as they headed from their tents beside the hangar, down the slight hill, and into the headquarters section of Fort Defense.
As they neared, Fieran studied the buildings. The four-story stone and wood building must be the hospital. A cluster of small wooden buildings tucked into a stand of trees had to be the quarters for the elven healers and nurses.
The officer quarters were a square formed of four long, two-story buildings. One of the buildings was fully stone. One was wood with trees grown into the sides. A third was brick while the fourth had a stone foundation and wooden construction. A fifth building sat in the center of the square, and it bustled with activity even at this time of night. That must be headquarters.
The elven officers’ quarters were built on the ground, but they were formed out of a row of trees. Each set of rooms was set by itself, but they were placed in a row with a hallway down the center, covered by the roof of tree branches. A few elven lights glowed beneath the canopy, but the leaves kept the light from being visible from the sky.
On the far end, Dacha and Uncle Iyrinder stood in front of the building, talking quietly. As Fieran and Merrik approached, they stopped talking and turned toward them.
Uncle Iyrinder stepped forward and clasped Fieran’s shoulders in an elven hug. “Fieran. You are looking well.”
“Uncle Iyrinder.” Fieran returned Uncle Iyrinder’s shoulder hug.
Beside him, Dacha exchanged shoulder clasps with Merrik.
Once they’d finished their greetings, Dacha pushed open the door beside him while Uncle Iyrinder led Merrik to the set of rooms next to Dacha’s, separated by a small open-air hallway. Uncle Iyrinder was likely listed as Dacha’s adjutant or something like that.
Fieran followed his dacha into his set of rooms, the very elven architecture surrounding him in a warm familiarity.
A table stood in the center of the room with two chairs beside it. Covered dishes already waited on the table, wafting savory smells into the air.
A cushioned bench stretched along one wall, grown in place out of the living wood of the walls. A few branches with leaves stretched along the ceiling overhead. The other wall held a desk layered with neat stacks of paperwork.
A doorway on the other side, the door standing open, led into a bedroom with a narrow bed grown into the wall. Fieran smiled at the sight of papers tacked onto the wall above the bed, all of them covered with his little brother Tryndar’s artwork.
Fieran took the chair with his back to the cushioned bench. This let him put his back to the wall, more or less, and gave him a view of both doorways.
