Page 33 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

Chapter

Nineteen

F ieran stood on the grass a few yards away from the tram platform, trying to still his jitters. The late afternoon sun beat onto his face and the back of his neck, reminding him that he probably should have put on his service cap but he’d been in too much of a hurry.

He’d wanted to meet the train, but Uncle Iyrinder had—probably wisely—insisted that he meet the train alone to give Merrik space rather than everyone swarming him upon arrival.

Fieran had acquiesced. It was, after all, the same reason he was waiting here alone. He’d asked everyone, including Pip, to wait for Merrik in the hangar rather than overwhelm him the moment he stepped off the tram.

He would step off the tram, right? Surely he wouldn’t have been allowed to return to Fort Defense if he hadn’t regained his ability to walk.

But Fieran didn’t know. He didn’t know what had been going on with Merrik outside of the short updates Uncle Iyrinder provided during the few mornings when Fieran snatched a morning practice.

At least Mongavaria had let up on attacks today, so Fieran wasn’t in the air for the first time in weeks.

The tram clattered its way up the hill before easing to a halt beside the platform. The doors whooshed open, and various men and women poured from the tram, most of them headed in the direction of the headquarters building.

Finally, Uncle Iyrinder strode from the final tram car, his long chestnut hair flowing over the shoulders of his evergreen elven uniform. He carried a large, wooden contraption under one arm and a large bag in the other.

Then a familiar figure with matching long chestnut hair stepped from the tram, dressed in the olive-green uniform of the Escarlish Flying Corps.

Even from this distance, Merrik’s face seemed somewhat haggard, his gait hitching in a way it hadn’t before.

A large canvas bag was slung over one shoulder while his sword rested at his hip.

He carried a cane in his free hand, though he wasn’t using it at the moment.

Merrik halted and swept a glance over the tents and the hangar before his gaze snagged on Fieran. But he almost immediately looked away, turning back to Uncle Iyrinder.

Uncle Iyrinder set down the items he was carrying and clasped Merrik’s shoulders in an elven hug, saying something to him.

Merrik gave a slight nod, his shoulders stiff, as if he was caught somewhere between defensive bristling and weary slumping.

Then Uncle Iyrinder glanced at Fieran, gave him a nod as if to signal him, and strode off the platform, heading in the direction of headquarters.

For a moment, Fieran still hesitated, unable to force his feet to move. He wasn’t even sure what to say to Merrik.

Which was ridiculous. This was Merrik. His best friend since they were both babies.

With a deep breath, Fieran strode forward, hopped onto the platform, and halted in front of him.

Merrik leaned the cane against his side before he crossed his arms, regarding Fieran with a hard, impassive look that gave nothing of his thoughts away.

Fieran opened his mouth but for a moment all the words he needed to say lodged in his throat. He needed to apologize. To make things right.

Instead, he found himself all but babbling, “I hope your train ride was good. Everyone is excited to have you back. Do you need anything? Can I carry something?”

Merrik remained silent for another moment, arms still crossed, eyes and jaw still hard. When he spoke, his expression didn’t change. “I kissed your sister.”

The words were so incongruous that Fieran didn’t even know how to respond. It wasn’t like Merrik to use family to needle someone, but who knew where his head was at?

Fieran gave a forced, rough chuckle. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

Merrik just kept staring at him, his jaw and eyes hardening further. “I would not joke about something like that.”

Oh. Oh. He was serious.

Fieran spun away from Merrik, running a hand through his hair. Merrik and…Adry? Kissing? When he’d asked Adry to look after Merrik, this was not at all what he’d meant.

He glanced at Merrik. “You…and Adry.”

That bristling stance was back in Merrik’s posture. “Yes.”

Fieran swiped his hand over his face, dropping his gaze. The next words out of his mouth would either heal or break his friendship with Merrik. Sure, Merrik wouldn’t use family for a joke, but he wasn’t above using his relationship with Adry as a test.

Adry and…Merrik? Fieran tried to get it to compute. Merrik was like a brother to them. Sure, he wasn’t actually related by blood. But still. It was just…weird.

And yet not. Merrik was family already. Fieran couldn’t think of anyone more honorable, more worthy, to court his sister. He certainly couldn’t question if Merrik would treat Adry right.

Fieran forced an easy grin as he turned back to Merrik. “Good. That’s…good.”

Merrik’s stance finally eased. It was only a fraction, but at least it was a start.

“Pip and I are courting.” Fieran tried to keep his tone light, as if they were just having a normal conversation as they would have before.

“Finally.” Merrik relaxed another fraction. He gestured down at the wooden contraption and bag Uncle Iyrinder had been carrying. “Could you grab those?”

“Sure.” Fieran hurried to heft both items, all too aware of the lingering tension.

Merrik strode across the platform, his gait unfamiliar even if he was walking mostly steadily. He hesitated at the edge of the platform, lowering his right foot—the pant leg on that side glowing slightly green as Merrik used his magic—down first as if he wasn’t sure his feet would hold.

Fieran waited, close enough that Merrik could reach out a hand to steady himself if needed, although Fieran didn’t offer or presume to grab Merrik’s arm. This seemed like something Merrik needed to do himself, even if Fieran had to tighten his grip on the items in his hands to resist helping.

As they set off across the grass, Fieran matched Merrik’s slower pace. Neither of them spoke as they made their way down the road toward their tents.

By the time they neared Merrik’s tent, Merrik was breathing slightly hard, his face tightening again, this time with pain. At the platform beneath the tent, Merrik hesitated once again. He tried to step up, but he wobbled, reaching out a hand.

Fieran hurried to position himself next to the step, and Merrik planted a hand on Fieran’s shoulder. Fieran held still as Merrik levered himself up.

Once Merrik stepped into the tent, Fieran followed, maneuvering the bulky items in his grasp inside without knocking Merrik over.

Merrik sat on the cot, massaging his right leg, his shoulders hunched.

Fieran set down his burdens in the corner before he sank onto the single chair next to the table across from the cot. He barely kept himself from asking if Merrik was all right. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can fetch?”

“No.” Merrik’s tone was short, his shoulders going tense again.

Fieran braced himself. No putting this off any longer. “I’m sorry. For the crash.”

“It was not your fault.” Merrik’s words were clipped, his head still bowed as he massaged his leg.

“Perhaps the crash wasn’t my fault. But I’m sorry for all the times I was reckless, and you were the one who got hurt because of it.” Fieran swallowed at the lump in his throat. “I dragged you into the army—”

“That was my choice.” Merrik’s words held a heat as he shot a glare at Fieran. “Do not take away my part in that.”

“Yes, but I didn’t even consider that you would make another choice besides join up with me.

” Fieran rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs.

He needed to get this apology right. Not just because he wanted things to go back to the way they were, but because he wanted this friendship to be better than it was.

Merrik deserved that. “I always just assumed you’d follow wherever I led.

I should have listened to you. Or perhaps followed you for a change. I’m sorry.”

For too many years, Fieran had treated Merrik as his sidekick. Someone who existed only to follow him around.

But that wasn’t right. That wasn’t how a good friendship worked.

For a long moment, Merrik remained as he was, stiff and hunched, his gaze on his feet instead of on Fieran.

Then he sighed and straightened, lifting his head to look at Fieran. “I am sorry too. I said some things I should not have after my crash. I did not even realize how much I had been holding against you until…until the crash brought it all to the surface.”

“There was a problem. It took crashing for me to see it.” Fieran pressed his palm to the table beside him, feeling as if he needed the steadiness of solid wood.

“I know. I read your letters. They…helped.” Merrik looked away again, heaving a long sigh.

“I am sorry I never answered them. At first, I was too angry. Then I was trying to sort through everything. Not just the bitterness toward you, but all of it.” He made a gesture down at his feet.

“And when I started to piece myself back together, it had been so long, I just did not know what to say.”

“How is…all of that?” Fieran, too, gestured at Merrik’s legs. He wasn’t sure how to go about asking. Would Merrik even feel comfortable sharing those details? He just didn’t know where they stood, metaphorically. “You’re walking. So it must be going well.”