Page 9 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)
Dacha, too, filled his plate. He flicked a glance at Fieran, his expression too blank to read. “I heard you had a fight with your cousin Rhohen.”
With his dacha’s face so impassive, his tone flat, Fieran squirmed, feeling like he was a child getting scolded. “It was a practice bout. Mostly. Up until the end, anyway. And I didn’t provoke him. Much.”
“And I heard about the mattress incident.” This time, the twitch to Dacha’s mouth and the glint in his silver-blue eyes gave away his suppressed humor.
Fieran heaved a sigh and slumped against the back of his chair. “I see the family grapevine is as effective as always.”
He really shouldn’t be surprised. He’d had enough uncles and aunts stop at Dar Goranth. All of them would have happily passed on stories about Fieran to Dacha.
“Yes, but the few stories I heard were rather incomplete.” Dacha sliced a piece of his venison and popped it in his mouth. A clear sign that he wanted Fieran to start talking.
Well, talking had never been a problem for Fieran. Between bites of his food—occasionally during bites of his food if he just couldn’t help himself—Fieran told everything from basic training at Fort Linder to his first posting at Dar Goranth.
“And then…wham! Another flyboy on his mattress slammed into the parade ground. Mattresses went skidding in all directions, knocking over men.” Fieran gestured. His food was growing cold, but he was too busy talking to care.
Dacha had lifted his glass of water to his mouth and taken a sip. He made a choking noise, hurriedly set down his glass, and coughed into his sleeve. He spoke between coughs. “I should know better than to drink while you are telling a story.”
Fieran grinned, taking the opportunity of the pause in his story to take a drink himself. “Probably.”
“Choking on food never used to be a problem.” Dacha gave one last cough.
Fieran thought about the meals he’d had with the elven side of the family.
Even though he’d heard that Uncle Weylind, Aunt Rheva, Aunt Jalissa, and his cousins Ryfon and Brina had loosened up over the years, the meals were still fairly quiet, even with him, his siblings, Mama, and Uncle Edmund providing the loudest conversation.
Well, and Emmyth, his youngest cousin on that side, chipping in occasionally.
“No, I don’t imagine the family dinners you had growing up would put anyone at risk of choking on their food. ”
“No.” The light tone to Dacha’s voice disappeared.
Fieran dropped his gaze back to his plate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have reminded Dacha of his childhood. From what Fieran had been able to piece together, Dacha’s childhood hadn’t been as joyful as Fieran’s, despite how much Dacha’s father and siblings loved him.
What were mealtimes like at home now? With Adry stationed in Estyra and Fieran and Dacha here in Fort Defense, that left only Mama, Louise, Ellie, and Tryndar at home.
Mama would do her best to keep things light and cheerful, but meals wouldn’t be the loud and chaotic affairs they were when everyone was home .
Fieran poked at the cold remains of his venison. “Meals at home are likely pretty quiet right now.”
“Your mama has mentioned as much.” Dacha’s mouth twisted, but this time with a frown rather than a smile. “Louise has been staying at the AMPC rather than travel back and forth each day.”
That meant only Fieran’s youngest siblings, Ellie and Tryndar, were home. They were the quietest of all of them, except for Dacha. Treehaven must seem so empty.
Fieran swallowed to clear the scratchy, squeezing feeling in his throat. “I suppose staying in Aldon makes sense. It saves her a lot of time commuting.”
Louise had a lot resting on her shoulders. As the only one with the magic of the ancient kings left in Aldon—apart from Mama, who could use Dacha’s magic through their heart bond—filling the magical power cells fell solely to her. At least Uncle Lance was still there to run the AMPC.
“Yes.” Dacha hesitated, then added in a weighted tone, “She has also been tasked with protecting Aldon during air raids. A few Mongavarian airships have gotten past our defenses and bombed the city over the past month.”
Fieran hadn’t heard that, all the way up in Dar Goranth as he’d been.
He swallowed, a tightness squeezing his chest. He’d pictured his siblings back home living safe and comfortably, despite the war.
Instead, they were enduring bombings, like what Bridgetown had suffered. Louise might not be on the frontlines, but she was stepping up as a warrior with the magic of the ancient kings nonetheless.
Nothing and no one had been left fully untouched by this war .
After a long moment of silence, Dacha pushed away his plate. “Continue your story, sason.”
What story had Fieran been telling? Oh, right, the mattress sliding story.
He launched into it again, but he couldn’t call up the previous excitement he’d had for the telling.
His heart sank even more as he reached the battle for Dar Goranth, having to talk about the losses, the sunken surface ships, the destroyed airships, those moments when he thought Rokyd and Lucien might have been killed.
He quickly glossed through getting his medals and promotion and instead spent more time describing Pip’s invention for shielding Dar Goranth. Dacha, of course, asked lots of technical questions. Fieran would have to tell Pip how impressed his dacha was.
If Fieran could just get Pip and his dacha talking about inventions, perhaps they wouldn’t freeze up so much next time.
“So, anyway, that’s everything that has happened since I left home.” Fieran lounged more comfortably in his chair, shifting his feet beneath the table to find a spot not already taken up by his dacha’s feet. “I’m looking forward to having access to telephone calls home again.”
“They will be glad to hear from you.” Dacha began carefully stacking their dirty plates.
Fieran waited, but Dacha wasn’t forthcoming when it came to telling stories of what he’d been doing since he’d been stationed at Fort Defense.
He could guess. Dacha had likely been using his magic to avert bombing attacks on the fort. Perhaps he’d even led a few raids through the Wall into Mongavaria to harass the enemy .
After the dishes had been neatly stacked, Dacha studied Fieran. “Will you join me for morning practice?”
“I don’t have my swords.” Fieran refused to squirm. It wasn’t like he could have taken his swords with him.
Bending down, Dacha pulled something long and slim out from where it had been leaning in the shadows against the wall by his desk. He held it out, and Fieran took it, already knowing what he’d see before he unwrapped the canvas coverings.
His practice swords in their sheaths.
Fieran raised his eyebrows. “You sent for these the moment you heard I was coming to Fort Defense, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Dacha didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction with that.
There would be no getting out of practice. Not that Fieran minded. He’d missed the practices with his dacha, and he’d learned how important such magic and sword practice was.
“I won’t be able to come every morning, as I will be on duty at times. But I can tomorrow.” Fieran ran his hand over his swords’ hilts. The grips rested comfortable and familiar beneath his hand.
“Good.” Dacha gave a sharp nod, as if he wasn’t sure what else to say.
After another pause, Dacha gestured toward the south.
“When you do have time, I have constructed a place to fill magical power cells in the mountains. I have been keeping Fort Defense supplied, but it would help the overall war effort to have your magic stored as well.”
Fieran nodded, his gaze dropping to the swords in his lap. “I’ll find time.”
It would be difficult to take time away from the squadron. If Fort Defense were attacked, Fieran would be several miles away from the hangar.
But filling magical power cells here would relieve some of the pressure on Louise back in Aldon. Between Fieran and Dacha, they could supply the Escarlish war effort, even if they only filled power cells about once a week.
Something twisted inside him, and he worked to keep his face blank. Fieran had joined the army and taken to the skies in part to get away from the monotony of working at the AMPC.
Yet here he was, right back where he’d started. Filling magical power cells.
He shoved those thoughts aside. How could he resent being asked for this—something that was so little effort and only a mild hassle to him—when men and women were dying? How could he say no to anything that would help win this war all the sooner?
Besides—now he was trying to suppress a smile—he could take Pip along. Filling magical power cells would give him the perfect opportunity to show off at something that would involve magic and mechanics in a way Pip would find fascinating.
Sure, he probably shouldn’t be thinking of ways to impress her. He was the one who had decided they couldn’t be more than friends.
Still, he couldn’t quite banish the idea. Besides, she had the right degree. He could show her how to run the machine to fill the magical power cells. It would be beneficial, after all, to have someone other than Merrik with that knowledge.
Dacha eyed him, and Fieran worked to stuff his grin away. Hopefully his dacha wouldn’t be able to read too much into his expression. He was not ready to go into the whole not-relationship thing with his dacha.