Page 40 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)

With that warning, Prince Farrendel retreated from the doorway.

As before, Pretty Face and Lije went first, and Pip tiptoed after. She halted just inside, unable to get her feet to carry her all the way into the room.

Fieran lay on the bed tucked against the wall, a blanket drawn up to his chest with his shoulders bare.

One hand and arm were braced with a splint and wrapped in a bandage.

Several cuts and scratches were layered over the purple bruising visible on his face, his shoulders, and his upper chest. His freckles and red hair were stark against his gray pallor.

As Prince Farrendel sat in one of the two chairs pulled up to the bed, Fieran stirred. His eyelids cracked open, his gaze swinging first to his dacha, then past him up to Lije and Pretty Face.

Pretty Face stepped forward and perched on the second chair near the foot of the bed. “Good to see you, Captain.”

A lopsided smile broke across Fieran’s face before he slurred, “Pretty Face. Always liked your nose.” His eyes flicked back and forth as if he was trying to go cross-eyed to see his own nose but didn’t have the muscle control to manage it. “I have a nose. It’s on my face. ”

Prince Farrendel gave a small sigh. “Quite thoroughly dosed.”

In other words, Fieran was currently higher than an airship.

Pretty Face pushed to his feet, and Lije took his spot in the chair. “Rest up. You’ll be back in the sky with the rest of us soon.”

Fieran blinked at Lije owlishly before his eyelids sagged shut again. The word he slurred out on a sigh might have been Lije’s name. But it was hard to tell for sure as he sank back into unconsciousness.

Pretty Face patted Pip’s shoulder before he edged past her out the door. “Take all the time you need.”

Lije pushed to his feet and also eased past her. “We’ll be right outside when you’re ready to leave.”

Then Pip was left alone—or mostly alone since Fieran lay on the bed and Pretty Face and Lije lingered in the other room—with Prince Farrendel Laesornysh . Her childhood hero. And Fieran’s dacha.

For a long moment, she couldn’t move as she stared at Prince Farrendel and he stared back at her. Then he gave a small gesture of his hand to indicate the other chair.

Pip inched one foot forward. Then the other. She was here for Fieran. Surely she could do this for him. Somehow she made it to the chair and sank onto it.

More long moments stretched, the time measured by the hammering of her heartbeats in her ears.

She sat as stiff as a mouse in the presence of a cat while, at the head of the bed, Prince Farrendel remained just as still, his gaze focused on Fieran.

His twin swords leaned against the wall next to him, a polishing cloth draped over the hilt of one of them as if he’d been interrupted while cleaning them.

She should say something. Anything to break the awkward silence. But her jaw seemed locked in place, and if she tried to speak now, all she’d manage would be a squeak.

Prince Farrendel made a noise in the back of his throat. “You were the one who fetched me earlier.”

“Yes.” She got that much out past her constricting throat.

“Linshi.” Prince Farrendel kept his gaze locked on Fieran.

On the bed, Fieran stirred again. This time when his eyes opened, his gaze wandered over the room, drifting past her before snapping back. A large, loopy grin spread across Fieran’s face again. “Pip.”

“I’m here, Fieran.” How she wanted to grab his hand and hold it tight. But she wasn’t about to do that in front of his dacha.

Especially when she wasn’t sure where she and Fieran stood. They’d nearly kissed there in the hangar before the battle, and they’d all but agreed to start courting.

Yet because they’d been nearly kissing, she hadn’t had time to inspect his aeroplane. His propeller had broken, and as his mechanic, a mechanical failure was her fault.

Because of her, he’d crashed. Merrik had crashed. So many pilots of all three squadrons had been lost because Fieran hadn’t been up there fighting with his magic.

Would Fieran blame her for distracting him? She blamed herself, after all. She had been the one to demand to talk to him right then. If she’d been doing her job, maybe she could have prevented all of this.

Fieran’s forehead puckered. “Have something…” His eyes slid closed as he seemed to drift. But then his eyes flickered open yet again, the smile returning. “Pip.”

“Yes, I’m still here.” She curled her fingers in her lap to stop herself from reaching for his hand.

“Love you.” The words were slurred, coming out a childlike Wuv you .

But they were still clear enough that Pip’s whole face flushed. Had his dacha heard that? Had he realized what Fieran meant? She couldn’t bring herself to glance at Prince Farrendel.

“I love you.” This time, Fieran’s words were sing-song, transitioning to a ditty. “I love you. You love me.”

Pip huddled on the chair, her face burning, her shoulders hunched by her ears. There was no mistaking that. If only she could just disappear before she had to face Fieran’s dacha after that confession.

When she risked a peek at Prince Farrendel, his ears were bright pink as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He caught her glance and gave a slight cough. “I do not think he will remember what he is saying in the morning.”

Probably not. But she would remember. As would Prince Farrendel. And while Fieran might not recall what he’d said, he was too drugged to say anything but the truth.

How. Embarrassing. This was not how she imagined Fieran would tell her he loved her. She was never going to be able to face Fieran’s dacha ever, ever again.

Fieran’s voice grew quieter as his song turned into an increasingly soft “Love you, love you” over and over again. He seemed to be singing himself to sleep, his eyes closed, no longer aware of them.

“I…uh…I should leave Fieran to rest.” Pip popped to her feet. She didn’t dare look at Prince Farrendel again, not even to get one last reassuring glimpse of Fieran still alive and still breathing.

She scurried from the room, almost running into the table in the center of the other room in her near-blind panic.

Beside the outer door, Pretty Face and Lije turned to her, breaking off their quiet discussion. By the lack of smirks on their faces, they hadn’t heard Fieran’s drugged mutterings and singing.

Small mercies. It was already bad enough that Prince Farrendel Laesornysh had been present. It would have been embarrassing beyond belief if the flyboys had witnessed that scene as well.

“Is everything all right?” Lije searched her face.

Pretty Face cast a glance from her to the door beyond, as if wondering just what had happened. He shifted, almost as if he thought she needed protection.

What could they read in her expression? No doubt her face was still red as a strawberry.

But she wasn’t about to tell them what had actually gone down. “It’s just…hard. Seeing him like that.”

That was true, even if it wasn’t the reason for her hurried exit.

Lije nodded, and the set to Pretty Face’s shoulders relaxed before he opened the door and flourished a hand for her to go first.

Pip fled outside, breathing in a deep breath of the afternoon warmth. After all that had happened, she half-expected to find the closing darkness of night. It seemed almost an insult to the tragedies of the day that they still had hours of daylight and work left to slog through.

As she, Pretty Face, and Lije strode up the hill toward where Mak waited with Tiny and Stickyfingers, Pip glanced over her shoulder at the elven quarters as something else broke through the embarrassment of moments ago.

Fieran loved her. Loved her enough that it was his first thought upon seeing her while in a drugged state.

Sure, he had no idea what he’d told her. There was no telling how he’d feel once the drugs wore off and he remembered the full situation .

But for tonight when the nightmares of the day came crashing down, she’d cling to those words. She’d hope that maybe once he woke and healed, they could get back to the discussion—and the kiss—that had been interrupted by war.

By the time she, Pretty Face, and Lije reached the others near the road, Pip had schooled her expression as best she could. Mak shot her a look, but he didn’t pester her with questions.

Stickyfingers glanced between them. “How’s Fieran?”

“Drugged out of his mind.” Pretty Face rolled his shoulders with a shrug. “But he seemed as good as could be expected. His father was relaxed enough that I don’t think anyone fears he will worsen.”

“What about Merrik?” The lines in Lije’s forehead were becoming permanent as he kept his hands tucked in his pockets.

“They didn’t let us see him.” Tiny grimaced, his arms crossed. “They wouldn’t even let us in the hospital or tell us how he is besides that he’s alive.”

“I would’ve sneaked in to see for myself but…” Stickyfingers patted the crutches he had tucked under his arms. “I’m not sneaking anywhere until this is healed.”

As the bullet wound was just a through-and-through that didn’t hit the bone or artery, his injury had been bandaged so the elven healers could save their magic for those more grievously injured.

In a day or two once those wounded were on the mend, Stickyfingers would be able to report to the hospital to have his injury healed the rest of the way.

“We’ll have to try again tomorrow.” Lije tipped his head in a decisive nod, as if that settled it.

Pip nodded as well, even though none of them were looking at her.

Seeing for herself that Fieran was alive and healing had untwisted some of the ache inside her.

But she wasn’t sure she’d draw in a decent breath again until she could reassure herself that Merrik was all right too.

She’d seen the state he’d been in when his dacha pulled him from the wreckage of his aeroplane. Things hadn’t looked good.

Until then, she had work to do. Aeroplanes to put back together. Engines to fix. Magical power cells to replace.

There was nothing she could do to help Merrik or Fieran right now. But she could take care of the squadron. It was what Fieran would want her to do.