Page 5 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)

Beside Fieran, Pip’s eyes went wide, her face going so pale that she seemed about to faint.

“At ease.” Dacha waved, the gesture stiff as his expression.

Everyone in the room relaxed somewhat out of their proper stances, but no one went back to what they were doing. Not with the famous elf warrior-prince still in the room .

As Dacha halted before him, Fieran kept his face properly blank. “General Laesornysh.”

“Capt. Laesornysh.” Dacha reached out and gripped Fieran’s shoulders in the elven style of hugging. After only a moment, Dacha plucked awkwardly at Fieran’s shoulder bars, his voice rough with the words he didn’t say out loud. “These look good on you.”

“Linshi.” As much as Fieran wanted to full-on hug his dacha, he confined himself to a mere quick shoulder clasp. There were too many people around for his dacha to be comfortable with more than that, and Fieran wouldn’t break military protocol to hug a general with so many witnesses.

Instead, he pulled away and gestured to the lines of flyboys and elven pilots. “Dacha, meet the Half-Breed Squadron.”

Dacha’s eyebrows rose at the name, but he turned to better face Fieran’s squadron. While he would have seen some of the flyboys in the aftermath of the attack on Bridgetown, there hadn’t been time for proper introductions.

“You know most of the flyboys from my letters.” Fieran pointed out those in his closest group. “That’s Stickyfingers, Pretty Face, Tiny, and Lije.”

Each of them responded with “Sir,” shifting as if they really wanted to salute, despite being indoors. Fieran might be introducing his father to his friends, but to them, they were meeting a highly ranked general.

Uncle Iyrinder had joined Merrik, and he dipped his head to Fieran in greeting. Dacha gave a similar unspoken greeting to Merrik.

“And this is Lt. Rothilion and his elven pilots.” Fieran held his breath as he gestured to Rothilion.

The elf lieutenant’s family, especially his uncle, were particularly stuffy elves who hated Dacha.

Rothilion had changed his attitude toward Fieran considerably in the past few weeks, but would that translate to his interactions with Dacha?

Lt. Rothilion remained still for a moment, his face almost too blank, as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

The elves who were his particular cronies kept shooting him glances, as if they would follow Rothilion’s lead here. Many of the other elves, including Aylia, who didn’t come from elven nobility, gave the small elven bow again. They, at least, revered Dacha for the legendary warrior that he was.

At last, Lt. Rothilion bent in a bow of his own. The movement was stiff, but his mouth didn’t so much as curl. His cronies hurried to follow his lead.

Fieran released a slow breath, met Lt. Rothilion’s gaze, and dipped his chin in a silent acknowledgment.

And now…Fieran suppressed his grin as he reached beside him, gently rested an arm around Pip’s shoulders, and steered her forward.

She gave something like a squeak, her body so stiff that she was almost skidding on the floor as Fieran drew her forward.

“This is Pip—Mechanic Pippak Detmuk-Inawenys. She’s a big admirer of yours.

She went to Hanford University to get a degree in Magical Engineering because she was inspired by you. ”

Pip remained petrified beneath his arm, not even breathing as she gaped wide-eyed at Dacha. Dacha gawked right back, also frozen.

The two of them were internally screaming so loudly that Fieran’s ears were ringing.

Then Dacha sucked in a breath, gathering himself. Perhaps Mama had prompted him through the heart bond they shared. Or maybe the practice he’d had over the years with such situations gave him a memorized pattern to fall back on.

Dacha managed an attempt at a smile as he nodded to Pip. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mechanic Detmuk-Inawenys.”

Pip gave a wheezy squeak, her eyes still bugging.

Dacha swung his gaze back to Fieran. “Will you be free to join me for supper tonight?”

Fieran glanced over his squadron, then nodded. “Yes, I can.”

Everyone should be well settled by then, and he wouldn’t mind missing out on whatever the mess was serving for the far better food that the generals received.

Besides, he looked forward to actually talking with his dacha. They’d had so little time when he’d seen him at Bridgetown, and that brief meeting had been focused on the aftermath of the battle.

“Good.” Dacha gave another nod, then snapped around, his movements stiff in the aftermath of his panic.

Uncle Iyrinder stepped away from Merrik and joined Dacha. Then the two of them strode from the building.

A whooshing sound filled the space as everyone released the breath they’d been holding. Within moments, the drill sergeants returned to harrying the new recruits.

Beside Fieran, Pip made a sound like air leaking out of a dirigible’s balloons. She dropped her head into her hands. “Ugh! I didn’t even manage to say a word! I’ve planned out that conversation in my head for years, but then… nothing .”

Fieran dropped his arm from Pip’s shoulders, as much as he wanted to linger. “We’re stationed on the same base, and you’re assigned to my squadron. I’m sure we’ll run into my dacha plenty more times.”

Pip gave another wheezing, screaming sound into her hands.

Fieran grinned. War zone or not, he was going to enjoy his time here at Fort Defense.