Page 26 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

Chapter

Fifteen

A s the sunrise splashed the horizon behind her pink, the sun not yet peeking over the horizon, Pip tromped next to Fieran up the hill behind the hangars and swallowed at the bubbling, churning feeling filling her gut.

The sun-burnt summer grass crunched beneath her boots while the thin coating of dew wasn’t even enough to get her boots damp.

She had to extract her hand from Fieran’s to swipe her palms on the front of her trousers. “You’re sure your dacha doesn’t mind?”

Fieran held his hand out, waiting for her to clasp it again. “He’s the one who invited you.”

“And you don’t mind me taking away your time with your dacha?” Pip couldn’t look at Fieran, and she definitely couldn’t think of his dacha as anything but his dacha. Not as Prince Farrendel Laesornysh.

She was going to join a morning practice with Prince Farrendel Laesornysh . Her heart hammered in her ears again.

“No, I don’t mind at all.” Fieran halted and studied her. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I know.” Pip tried to take deep breaths to steady herself.

“Pip.” Fieran cradled her face with his free hand, tipping her chin up so she was looking into his blue eyes.

“I’d like you and Dacha to get to know each other.

But if you aren’t ready for that yet, it’s all right.

I know it is a little unfair that you’ve met both of my parents, and I have yet to meet yours. ”

Because her parents were still somewhere in the dwarven mountains, trying to negotiate a closer treaty with the dwarven kingdoms.

“I’d like to get to know your family better too. It’s just…” Pip released a long breath, hating how it shuddered out of her.

“He’s not just a normal dacha.” Fieran also sighed, as if he understood all too well. His thumb traced over her cheek.

“No, but…” Pip drew in a deep breath and forced her shoulders straight. “I can do this. I’ve talked to him before. Surely I can do it now when your life isn’t hanging by a thread.”

“As I don’t intend to make nearly dying a habit, that would be best.” Fieran’s smile sent a sparkle to his eyes. “If you’re ready?”

“Yes.” She faced the top of the hill again and marched up it. She could do this. She was just going to demonstrate her magic to her childhood hero. Worse, her childhood hero was Fieran’s dacha, and she really, really needed him to like her. No big deal.

And if he didn’t like her or if she broke Fieran’s heart, then she could just kiss any future working at the AMPC goodbye.

Nope. Don’t think about kissing. Not around Fieran’s dacha. Were her ears red? Her ears were definitely red. Her whole face was probably red.

Then she and Fieran reached the top of the hill, and she found herself facing a hollow on the far side.

At the bottom, Prince Farrendel stood with his silver-blond hair drifting around the hilts of his sheathed swords.

Despite his resemblance to Louise—or her resemblance to him—there wasn’t a trace of the ever-present smile that Louise and Fieran wore.

Prince Farrendel’s jaw seemed rather hard, his eyes flinty.

Pip squeaked and half-ducked behind Fieran before she caught herself. No hiding. She could do this. Be confident. The rest of Fieran’s family seemed to like her. At least, the ones she’d met. She hadn’t met his sister Adry yet.

“He’s going to be impressed,” Fieran whispered into her ear, his breath stirring her hair.

She forced her legs to move, though her steps remained stiff, as Fieran strolled down the hill. At the bottom, Fieran gestured between them. “I know you’ve met before, but, Pip, this is my dacha, and, Dacha, this is Pip.”

Fieran’s dacha tipped his head to her, but he didn’t speak. He flicked a glance to Fieran, and something in it was almost…pleading. But surely that couldn’t be right. Why would Prince Farrendel be scared?

Fieran grinned and released Pip’s hand. “Why don’t we start with Pip showing what she can do? Pip, would you please create a shield around us?”

Right. A shield. Something simple. She called up her magic and cast a shield. It shimmered in the early morning sunlight, a solid bubble around them.

She’d kept it close, close enough that Fieran had no trouble reaching out and placing a hand on her shield. A heartbeat later, his magic flared over his hand, then raced over her magic in that eager way it had.

Prince Farrendel still had that hard and impassive expression on his face as he took in the play of magic overhead. After another moment, he reached out one of his hands, his magic already twining around his fingers. “May I?”

Pip swallowed, nodded, and poured more of her magic into the shield.

A moment later, Prince Farrendel touched the shield. His magic crackled over hers with that electric taste of power that she recognized from the handful of times her magic had interacted with Prince Farrendel’s during battle.

Yet it was even more intimidating, the depth of power more terrifying, in person.

Her shield held as Prince Farrendel’s magic danced over it rather than consuming it, just as Fieran’s did.

For the first time that morning, something flickered in Prince Farrendel’s gaze. “I have never seen another magic interact with the magic of the ancient kings like this.”

“Amazing, right?” Fieran’s gaze was locked on Pip rather than on the magic around him.

Pip’s face warmed, and she had to look away before thoughts of kissing made her lose control of her magic.

“It is.” Prince Farrendel stepped closer to the shield, as if to study the magic in more depth. “How much magic can you contain?”

“A lot, but I haven’t tested my full limits when it comes to the magic of the ancient kings.” Pip couldn’t believe she’d managed to get out a full sentence, even if her voice was still squeakier than she’d like to admit.

“Would you be willing to hold a shield over our practice?” Prince Farrendel turned to Fieran, that hard edge back in his expression. “We have not practiced your magic lately, sason.”

Fieran heaved a sigh and shot a glance at Pip. “Practice, practice, practice.”

His light tone made it easier for her to grin back. “If your dacha thinks you need the practice, who am I to argue? I’ll just find a seat over there and watch.”

She settled herself down on the grass just outside of the bubble of her magic so that she just needed to focus on holding the shield, rather than worry about protecting herself on top of it.

“Speak up if you start to get tired or can’t hold the shield anymore.” Fieran sent her another lopsided smile before he faced his dacha, his smile vanishing.

Prince Farrendel faced Fieran, dropping into a stance with his hands held before him. “Just magic, sason. No swords. Perhaps we can test some of your limits to see if stamina is the issue.”

The issue? Was he talking about that dizziness Fieran had experienced when using his magic?

As Fieran and his dacha unleashed their magic, Pip poured even more magic into her shield. The competing, powerful magics exploded against each other as Fieran and his dacha dodged and ducked, flinging about enough magic to level an army.

And she was holding back all that power. It probably shouldn’t feel as old hat as it was.

She settled more comfortably on the grass, her gaze focused on Fieran. She was his girlfriend now. Appreciating his muscles as he sparred with his dacha was rather expected now, wasn’t it?

Fieran held Pip’s hand as the two of them strode back toward the hangar. His muscles were sore from all the dodging and movement, even if sparring with magic wasn’t as physically strenuous as doing the same with swords.

Better yet, he hadn’t gotten dizzy, despite the amount of magic he’d expended. Although, he wasn’t sure if that proved anything. Unleashing his magic in practice with his dacha wasn’t like doing it in battle.

Pip peeked up at him, swinging their clasped hands. “So…you and your dacha are trying to figure out the source of that dizziness you’ve had when using your magic.”

“Yes.” Fieran sighed and slowed their pace.

“While I was in the hospital, I talked with the head elf healer about those dizzy spells. He doesn’t think they are being caused by the fact that I’m half-human.

Well, not entirely. He thinks it’s either because I’m still building my magical stamina or that I’m trying to use my elven magic like a human. Or maybe a mix of both issues.”

Pip just kept walking at his side, her gaze encouraging. The rising sun splashed highlights through her dark hair.

“And, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to believe that my human side was the cause.

That was the easy explanation. The one I already believed, deep in my gut.

” Fieran couldn’t bring himself to look at her and instead swung his gaze toward the hangar ahead.

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because I believed that, I made it so.

I don’t know how my beliefs about myself are messing up my magic, but it seems they are. ”

Pip still remained quiet, but she squeezed his hand.

“If you’d asked me before I joined the army, I would have said I was perfectly fine with my dual heritage.

I was comfortable with my magic and who I am.

” Fieran shook his head, trying not to squirm at the way sweat trickled down his spine beneath his fatigue shirt.

“It turns out I wasn’t. Not as much as I thought I was, anyway.

But I don’t know how to fix it.” He paused and finally met Pip’s gaze again.

“What about you? You also have a dual heritage. Yet you don’t seem to have problems with your magic. ”

“It’s different for me.” Pip matched his pace as he slowed still further. “I have iron magic like a dwarf, but I wield it like an elf. Perhaps I’m not so torn as you are because my magic is both in the way that I am both.”

He hadn’t thought of her magic that way, but it made sense. “I would have said I was both as well. My parents did a good job of making sure I was raised knowing and experiencing both cultures. I spent just as much time in Estyra as I did Treehaven.”

“Yet you feel more human. Despite your elven magic, you’ve managed to embrace your human side more than your elven side.” Pip halted and peered up at him. “That’s not a bad thing. You are who you are. If you prefer short hair and human clothes, that’s all right.”

“But it isn’t all right. Not if it’s interfering with my magic.” Fieran huffed a breath that came out far louder and more frustrated than he’d intended.

“You were raised in the heart of both Escarland and Tarenhiel. You experienced both kingdoms at their cultural center.” Pip dropped her gaze to stare at the hangar.

“But I was raised on the western rail terminal. I merely visited the dwarven mountains and my elven grandparents deeper inside Tarenhiel. While I experienced and knew both cultures, I was never a part of them the way you were. Things are different at the edge of Tarenhiel. We had our own little world where we had our own culture. A little dwarven. A little elven. Even a little human influence thanks to having the human tribes just across the river. I never felt I had to choose between parts of myself. Not the way you did. I was just…me.”

He’d thought he’d been that comfortable within his own skin. Yet here he was, wrestling within himself. “That sounds like a great childhood.”

“It was.” Pip smiled, though it faded after a moment, the expression soft as she peered up at him. “Your childhood sounds pretty great as well.”

“I wouldn’t change anything about it.” He wouldn’t. His parents had given him and his siblings the very best of childhoods. It certainly wasn’t their fault if he struggled with figuring out how to meld his human and elven sides within himself.

Maybe that was part of his guilt. They had given him a great childhood, a great life. There was no reason he should be struggling.

Stickyfingers grew up in the slums of Aldon. Pretty Face was the son of a wastrel nobleman who led him to follow those wayward footsteps. Lije spent part of his childhood in a home with a dirt floor. Lt. Rothilion came from one of the snobbiest elven noble families.

Compared to that, what did Fieran have to struggle with? Just his dacha’s trauma, his parents’ fame, and the indescribable weight that came from carrying their legacy. Yes, it was a lot of pressure. But he’d never lacked. Not for food and certainly not for love.

“But I don’t want you to think I never struggle with having a dual heritage.” Pip shrugged as they kept moving again. “I have the opposite problem from you. I’ve never truly felt a part of either my dwarven side or my elven side. It’s lonely sometimes, not fitting in anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Fieran tugged her closer as they neared the hangar, yet he resisted the urge to pull her into a hug. Too many people were around for that.

“It is what it is.” Pip shrugged, as if letting the weight roll off her shoulders. After a moment, she swung their hands again, a hint of a smile returning to her face. “I’ve realized something about you.”

“What?” Fieran was more than ready to return to a lighter topic.

“You probably would have been the type to become rebellious, except that you respect and love your parents far too much.” Pip shook her head, that smile still there. “So instead, you just do these little rebellions, like joining the Flying Corps, and seek your parents’ approval afterwards.”

Fieran wasn’t sure if he should laugh, roll his eyes, or grimace at how on the mark she was. He settled for chuckling and bumping her arm with his. “You make me sound rather ridiculous.”

Pip’s grin turned even more teasing as she picked up her walking pace again. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Ouch.” Fieran pressed his free hand over his heart as he steered them through the large door in the side of the hangar. “We’ve barely started courting, and you’re already pointing out my flaws.”

“It’s part of my job description as…” Pip’s grin faded as she swallowed. She blinked up at him, her posture hesitant. “As your girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. Just hearing her claim the title sent his head reeling and his heart beating harder. And if his smile went sappy, well, courting her was worth whatever ribbing he might get.