Page 32 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

Pip laced her fingers with his, falling into step with him as they strolled between the sleeping warbirds, lit only by the low lights around the work stations.

Fieran tilted his head. “How are the aeroplanes looking?”

“Just fine. Despite all the hours you’ve been putting in the air, the lack of dogfights has left me very little to do.

” Pip tried to keep her boredom out of her voice.

She wasn’t going to complain. She’d take bored over losing another one of her flyboys.

“But you’re in the sky so much I can’t even fiddle with anything to make improvements. ”

She didn’t dare risk having an aeroplane in a state where it wouldn’t be ready to go up at a moment’s notice.

“Hopefully this won’t last much longer.” Fieran tugged her closer. “I can’t imagine the Mongavarians can keep up this pace any more than we can. It has to be as exhausting on them as it is on us.”

She could only hope. After all the experienced pilots Fieran had taken out early in the summer, Mongavaria had to be hurting for pilots, even if that foreign magic protecting their aeroplanes meant fewer of them were getting killed lately.

As they stepped into the night, Pip drew in a deep breath of the somewhat cooler air.

Fieran halted, also inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry we haven’t had much time together lately. I haven’t even had the energy to fetch your tools and pretend to help.”

“It’s okay.” Pip let go of his hand so that she could wrap her arms around his waist instead, leaning into him. “You’ve barely been out of your aeroplane in the past three weeks. You haven’t even managed morning practice with your dacha.”

“We’re courting. I need to make time for you.” Fieran embraced her in return and leaned his head against hers.

“We’re at war. Everything else needs to take the rear seat, even a courtship.

I get it.” Pip would have snuggled closer, but she was growing all the more aware of how Fieran hadn’t had a shower yet, and he’d been sweating in that flight jacket for the past few hours.

She tried to take shallow breaths as she eased just a bit away from him so that her face wasn’t pressed against his sweaty shirt.

“I just wish it didn’t have to be like that.” Fieran held her for another long moment before he pulled back. “Sorry. I smell, don’t I?”

“Terribly.” Pip took another step back to drag in a breath of the fresh, nighttime air. “It’s a sign of my love that I actually hugged you when you are this gross.”

“Then I’d probably be pushing my luck if I kissed you.” Fieran gave her what he probably thought was a smoldering look, though it looked more puppy dog pleading than smolder.

Pip eyed him, debating. On the one hand, he was rather gross. On the other hand, she didn’t know when they’d have another moment alone for stealing kisses. This was war. She had to take her opportunities where she could get them.

Fieran’s smolder turned into a lopsided smile. “If you have to debate that long, then the answer is no.” He lifted his shirt, sniffed at it, and grimaced. “Perhaps after I take a shower? I don’t fancy marinating in my sweat all night.”

As hot as it was likely to be tonight, they all would be doing just that, regardless of their prior cleanliness. She resisted the urge to shudder.

“I don’t want to waste what time we have.” Pip drew in a deep breath, holding it, as she eased closer. “Perhaps if we—”

“Capt. Laesornysh!” Lt. Busher hurried from the hangar, a clipboard in hand. He halted and gave Fieran a salute. “If you could spare a moment, sir.”

And…they’d lost their moment.

“Yes?” Fieran turned, returning the lieutenant’s salute.

Pip faced the adjutant as well. Somehow, his uniform was crisp and neat, despite the day’s heat, nor had the scorching day managed to melt his starch.

Lt. Busher held the clipboard out to Fieran. “Colonel Dentley asks that you peruse this form. He will only give his approval and signature if you also do so.”

Fieran took the form, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the paper. He stilled, his eyebrows rising before he glanced up at Lt. Busher. “Is this…he’s…” Fieran’s gaze dropped back to the paper, staring at it.

What was on that paper? Pip clamped her jaws shut to stop her questions. Technically, it wasn’t any of her business what was on that paper, and she didn’t dare ask in front of Lt. Busher.

Lt. Busher somehow managed to stiffen, his back even more starched straight. “Colonel Dentley realizes these are unusual circumstances, which is why he is seeking your approval for this return to combat. But as you do not seem bothered by unusual cases—”

“I’m not arguing. I’ll sign. Where’s a pen?” Fieran fumbled to take the pen the lieutenant held out to him, his hand shaking as he scrawled his name. He handed the clipboard back. “How soon can we expect everything to go through?”

“Soon. Headquarters is motivated to get as many experienced pilots as possible to the front to turn back this latest wave of attacks.” Lt. Busher saluted and, once Fieran gave him a salute in dismissal, he spun on a heel and marched back the way he’d come.

“What—” Pip turned toward Fieran.

“He’s coming back.” Fieran rested his hands on her shoulders before he pulled her in for a hug, as if he couldn’t quite contain himself.

“Who?” Pip found herself once again squashed against Fieran’s sweaty shirt, and this time she hadn’t had the time to take a decent breath beforehand.

“Merrik.” Fieran’s arms tightened around her. “He requested to return to duty. The healers cleared him, and the commander of the reserve squadron in Estyra certified that he can still fly. So he’s coming back.”

Pip hugged Fieran tighter, a lump filling her throat so thickly that she wasn’t sure she could speak, even if she could find the words.

Merrik was coming back.

She would have snuggled into Fieran’s hug, but…

he was still very gross. After a moment, Pip pressed her palms to Fieran’s chest and pushed back, easing out of Fieran’s embrace as he released her.

She kept her hands on his chest as she studied his expression.

“He still hasn’t answered any of your letters, has he? ”

“No.” The joy leached out of Fieran’s voice on his sigh. He shook his head, his gaze dropping from hers. “Nor sent me a message through his dacha, even though I know Uncle Iyrinder has talked with him.”

“I’m sorry.” That lump was back in her throat.

Merrik hadn’t sent a message to any of them in the squadron.

“But it must be a good sign if he’s coming back, right?

He could have easily taken an honorable discharge or a transfer to the reserve squadrons in Estyra or Aldon.

He didn’t have to come back to the Half-Breed Squadron if he didn’t want to. ”

In fact, returning to the Half-Breed Squadron was by far the hardest option. Merrik would’ve had to fight to return, as demonstrated by the fact that Colonel Dentley and Fieran had to give their stamp of approval on the paperwork.

Surely he wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t healing from the bitterness that had made him push them all away after his crash.

“Maybe.” Fieran took another step away from her, shaking his head again. “I just hope…”

“Yeah. Me too.” Pip reached out to take his hand, the ache in his eyes and voice mirroring the one in her heart.

Merrik had been so hurt and bitter. Would things be the same when he returned?

After another moment, Fieran released another long breath. He straightened his shoulders, a smile returning. “We’d better tell the others the good news. At least, anyone who is awake.”

The ruckus of celebrating flyboys would wake everyone up, no doubt. But Pip forced a grin of her own and hurried at his side toward the row of tents.