Page 7 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)

“I wondered, when I heard about the battle there.” Mak’s deep brown eyes searched her face. “Some of the rumors said dwarves were involved.”

“There were dwarven work crews building warships in the harbor who stepped in to push back the Mongavarian land raid.” Pip tried to sound casual, despite the way her brother studied her, as if trying to peel back her nonchalance to see if she was all right.

“None from Mt. Detmuk, but there was a crew from Mt. Grustraen.”

Mak nodded, though the flat line of his mouth didn’t change as he eyed her. Thankfully he didn’t press for more of the story just then. “If you didn’t receive my letter, then you haven’t heard about Dacha and Muka’s mission either. Not that I could say much in the letter.”

Annoying military secrecy. “What mission?” Pip couldn’t imagine what would take her parents away from the western rail terminal during wartime.

“They’ve been sent to Mt. Detmuk, and from there they are going to negotiate with the kings of the dwarven kingdoms.” Mak jabbed his thumbs in the cargo pockets of his coveralls.

“First to ensure continued trade of the vital iron and other raw materials, as well as the loan of work crews. Second, it’s hoped that one or more of the dwarven kingdoms can be persuaded to officially join the war on the Alliance’s side.

The addition of dwarven warriors would be a great boon when it comes time to invade Mongavaria. ”

That they would. Pip had seen just how fierce the dwarven warriors were.

Even if her dacha and muka couldn’t convince any of the kings to join an official alliance, a few clans might send their warriors to join the war out of sheer boredom.

For centuries, the dwarven kingdoms had been so busy warring among themselves that they hadn’t paid much attention to the broader politics of the continent.

But with relative peace currently reigning between the various kingdoms, those warriors would be getting restless.

“Dacha will get to reprise his role as negotiator.” Pip nodded, glancing over the bustling hangar. “The western rail terminal must be rather short-handed, with all of us away.”

“They’ll manage. Everywhere is shorthanded right now, with so much being shifted to the war effort.

” Mak shrugged, then turned back to the cartload of crates.

“I suppose we’d better get to work. We can catch up over supper tonight.

The mess for the civilian contractors is down by Little Aldon. Did you get a tour yet?”

“A brief one.” Pip reached for the first crate on the lowest stack.

“I can give you a better tour tonight.” Mak grinned as he picked up the top crate from the tallest stack. “I’ll come back and get you once I’m free.”

“You aren’t working here in the hangar?” Pip led the way to the wall, where she set down the crate. She’d have to sort through these later to catalog the contents and store them in more accessible places.

“Yes and no.” Mak shrugged as he set his crate next to hers. “I’m shifted about on base wherever the other teams are shorthanded. I mostly work in the railyard, given my experience, but I’ve helped out the mechanic crews for both the NAC and AFC when needed.”

Pip straightened and planted her hands on her hips as she faced her brother. “You’re a great mechanic. Why are they treating you like a man-of-all-work?”

Someone of Mak’s skills should be assigned to a team to best use his specialized skills. Or better yet, running his own team. To just give him odd jobs as needed was a gross misuse of his level of expertise.

Mak turned away, busying himself with hefting another crate. “I don’t have your degree, nor is my plant magic particularly useful for mechanics. It’s not a big deal, Pip. The variety is nice.”

“Your years of experience are far more valuable than some fancy degree.” Sure, she had that fancy degree, as did the human mechanics in her unit.

But while they might have a decade, maybe two at the most, of experience, Mak had several decades of experience working at the western rail terminal.

At the very least, he should have been given far more responsibility at the railyard here at Fort Defense.

“You know how territorial people can get. And despite the seventy years of the Alliance, the different peoples still don’t always work well together.

The humans running the railyard here don’t have a lot of room for anyone else.

” Mak hefted one of the largest crates from the cart, still not looking at her.

“Besides, no one knows what to do with my magic. It’s plant magic, but it doesn’t work the way the elven plant magic works. ”

“Well, I know how to put your magic to work.” Pip stared at him, her hands still planted on her hips. “I’m going to request that you are permanently attached to my crew as soon as I figure out who the chief mechanic is around here.”

Mak’s plant magic, crafted like dwarven magic instead of wielded directly like elven magic, would be particularly useful for making repairs on the mostly wooden and plant-fiber-canvas aeroplanes.

Elven plant magic could work on the dead wood, but it was difficult and not ideal.

But Mak’s magic actually worked better on the dead wood used in something mechanical, like an aeroplane.

“Pipsqueak.” Mak set the crate down, turned to her, and crossed his arms. “I don’t need my little sis pulling strings for me. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. And I’m not just pulling strings because you’re my brother, so don’t get huffy with wounded pride and all that.

” Pip stalked closer and poked him in the side.

“You could work wonders when it comes to repairing damaged aeroplanes, and I’m shocked no one else has snapped you up yet.

And maybe…” She lowered her voice so that it wouldn’t carry in the large, echoing hangar.

“Maybe I want you here. For me. Because you’re my brother, and we need to stick together. ”

Mak wrapped her into another hug, though he didn’t lift her from her feet as he had before. “I missed you too.”

She leaned into him for a moment, just soaking in the warmth of having one of her family members with her again for the first time in months.

Then she poked him in the side again and stepped out of his embrace. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy on me. I have a reputation as a tough lady mechanic to uphold.”

Mak ruffled her hair, then fully stepped back. “Fine. I’ll introduce you to the Chief, and you can submit all the paperwork.”

Good. And if the chief mechanic didn’t accept her request, she would ask Fieran to put in the request as well. The higher-ups might say no to her, but they wouldn’t to Fieran.

And, sure, maybe she shouldn’t lean on Fieran’s family connections when the two of them weren’t even courting—especially when that famous family was fueling her doubts about courting him at all—but he’d do the same for any friend.

Mak and Pip worked to unload the cart. Then Mak helped Pip sort out the chaos of aeroplanes, tools, and crates.

As they finished, the noise increased with the sounds of voices and tromp of boots.

A whole group of flyboys, led by Fieran, trooped into the hangar.

The elven pilots with Lt. Rothilion stepped inside after them, looked around, and peeled off to head for their aeroplanes in Bay 5.

Many of the other flyboys scattered, stopping by their aeroplanes and familiarizing themselves with the space.

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 were doing 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 of that Laesornysh.” 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 just canvas. With a dirt floor. A dirt floor! 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.

“I stole all the height in the family.” Mak leaned his arm on the top of her head. “Didn’t leave anything for my little sis.”

Pip elbowed him in the stomach and stepped out from under his arm. “Always such a hog, big brother. All the food. All the height. So inconsiderate.”

Mak smirked before he turned back to the flyboys. “I was going to show Pip around tonight. Want to join us?”

Pip found herself swaying forward, eager for a night out exploring Little Aldon with her flyboys and her brother together. Her chest squeezed at how important it felt that her brother and Fieran—well, all the flyboys—got along.

Fieran shook his head and jabbed a finger at Merrik. “The two of us have supper with our dachas tonight. But the others are free.”

Oh, right. How had she forgotten about that? Then again, her ears had been buzzing so loudly with her hero-worship panic that she’d barely heard a word of what Prince Farrendel said.

Pip tried to suppress the way her heart fell. She liked the other flyboys, but things wouldn’t be the same if Fieran and Merrik weren’t along.

“Then maybe we can wait on a tour until tomorrow night? Unless you’re on duty?” Mak swept a glance around the group.

“No, we won’t be on duty.” Fieran grinned, his gaze flicking to her for a moment. Perhaps he, too, had been disappointed at missing out .

“It’s a plan, then.” Mak nudged Pip with his elbow.

A far better plan, actually. Even beyond missing Fieran and Merrik, Pip looked forward to a night with just her brother, getting caught up on everything that had happened to the two of them since she’d left home months ago.