Page 34 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

“Well enough.” Merrik rolled up his right pant leg, revealing the wooden leg currently wearing his sock and boot.

Merrik pulled up his pant leg all the way above his knee and unbuckled a leather strap tightened around the stump of his leg.

When he pulled off the cuff of the prosthetic, he had to disentangle a network of roots that threaded through holes in the sock he wore over his stump.

He probably used those roots to send his magic into the wooden prosthetic, making it move.

“I am still getting used to wearing the prosthetic, and my stump is adjusting. I have enough magic that I can move the wooden limb to walk more smoothly, as long as my stamina holds out. I am told I will be able to move it even more naturally and for longer the more I do it.”

Fieran swallowed, not sure what to say.

Merrik tugged up his other pant leg, showing a wooden brace that stuck out above the top of his boot. “And this leg is still weak.”

“I’m surprised the healers allowed you to return to duty.” Fieran spoke softly, not a trace of his normal joking in his tone. Six weeks was a short amount of time to return to duty after the injuries Merrik had suffered.

“They were not in favor of it.” Merrik rubbed first at his stump, then at the calf of his other leg. “But I argued that I could practice walking here just as well as there. It will just take time.”

Perhaps, but such practice seemed like it would be better done in the safety and peace of Estyra, where he could get ample rest. Here at Fort Defense, the demands on him wouldn’t give him a lot of time to rest after pushing himself.

Especially right now with the way Mongavaria had been constantly attacking.

But Fieran was too happy to have Merrik back to argue. “We’ll do whatever we can to help. Just let us know what you need. The squadron is here for you.”

“That is good because…” Merrik sighed, not meeting Fieran’s gaze, and pointed at the wooden contraption. “I am going to need a few accommodations. When my leg or my magic gives out and I cannot walk any longer, I still need a wheelchair to get around.”

Now that Merrik had pointed it out, Fieran could see that the item was a wheelchair, its wooden frame folded so that it lay flat with its two large wheels pressed nearly together. The smaller front wheels were tucked within.

“Not a problem.” Fieran gave a shrug. No one would care if Merrik had to occasionally use a wheelchair.

Merrik shot him another look, that edge returning to his eyes as his mouth pressed flat.

“The hangar floor is cement, but there is a three-inch step to get into it. As there is for the showers and latrines. I cannot stand on my weak leg for a full shower just yet, so I will need a stool to sit on. My tent is a whole foot off the ground, as is the tram platform.”

Oh. Right. All those little steps that Fieran walked up every day without even thinking about them. They were now obstacles to Merrik.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m used to modifying our billets without asking the army’s permission.

” If he asked the army for permission, the war would end before the proper authorization came through.

He was still waiting on the official permission to make the tents livable—something he and his squadron had done themselves months ago.

“I’m sure Mak and a few of the elven pilots can make ramps.

Perhaps Pip can add a steel ramp or two where needed. ”

They wouldn’t be able to do that everywhere. The mess hall, for one. But anywhere here by the hangar would be no problem.

“Linshi.” Merrik dropped his gaze again, his shoulders slumping as if the fight was going out of him.

“I know I am asking a lot. You will have to make exceptions for me. I can fly. I do not even need to use my magic on my prosthetic for that. But I am still re-learning how to run, and I will not be able to scramble into the sky as quickly as before.”

Fieran stood, the space so small that he simply had to turn to sit on the cot next to Merrik. “We’re just glad to have you back. The squadron hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It is good to be back.” For the first time, a hint of a smile creased Merrik’s face, though it faded quickly. “I heard about Pretty Face.”

“It’s been hard without him, but he’s still alive, as far as we know.” Fieran tried to keep his tone hopeful, ignoring the gnawing in his stomach.

It had been weeks since Pretty Face had landed in Mongavaria.

Even taking into account that he would be walking only at night and hiding during the day, he should have been close to the border by now.

Every day that went by without word that an Escarlish pilot had walked across the border increased the likelihood that Pretty Face was already captured or dead.

For a long moment, Fieran and Merrik lapsed into silence. Then Fieran worked up a grin, and it didn’t even feel that forced. “So. You and Adry.”

“Yeah.” Merrik breathed out the word, that hint of a smile returning and staying this time.

“It’s serious?” Fieran wasn’t sure how to go about asking what he really wanted to know. Merrik had only been in Estyra for six weeks. That was an awfully short time to go from friends-who-were-like-family to courting. To kissing .

He trusted Merrik, yes. But Adry was still his sister. He had to be sure.

Merrik’s smile tipped wryly as he glanced at Fieran, as if he could read exactly what was going through Fieran’s head. He probably could, given how long they’d been friends. “Yes, it is serious. We would not have started anything, given how close our families are, if we were not.”

Fieran waited. That still did not fully explain how they’d gotten to that point.

Merrik huffed a sigh as he shook his head.

“We have both liked each other for a long time, but neither of us was willing to make the first move, not knowing how the other felt and not wanting to ruin anything. But after all this…” Merrik gestured at his legs.

“We could not hide our feelings from each other any longer. After that, well…” The tips of Merrik’s ears went pink.

“I don’t want to hear about it.” Fieran gave an exaggerated shudder.

It was just too weird hearing about his best friend kissing his sister.

It was strange enough realizing how much he hadn’t noticed when it came to Adry, Merrik, and the feelings they’d apparently been hiding right under his nose.

“You realize the position you’ve put me in, don’t you? ”

Merrik’s gaze narrowed with that bristling heat again. “Do not make this about you.”

Fieran blew out a breath, even as he stuffed down the defensive heat that rose in his own chest. The habits of how he treated Merrik would be hard to break, and he’d have to be intentional about it.

“I know, I know. Just…I’m asking for patience, all right?

” Fieran waved at Merrik. “I’m all for…this between you and Adry.

But if Adry had been courting anyone else, I would’ve been giving him a hard time.

But I can’t because you’re…you. And if you’d been courting anyone but Adry, I’d be offering to be your wingman to help you and her sneak off together, but she’s my little sister. It’s just a bit awkward.”

Merrik gave a soft snort, the heat vanishing back into a smile. It wasn’t quite the easy laugh he’d had before, but it was enough. “Adry said the look on your face was going to be priceless. I will have to describe it to her.”

“Yes, yes. Get a good laugh out of it.” Fieran gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. But after a moment, he stilled and searched Merrik’s expression. “I’m surprised you came back here, when it meant leaving Adry.”

Fieran couldn’t imagine having to make that choice. He’d nearly had to, if Pip had decided to remain in Aldon rather than return to Fort Defense. Fieran would have made the same choice Merrik had, leaving his girlfriend behind in relative safety to protect his friends. But it would have been hard.

Merrik shrugged. “You know how much Adry wants to be sent to the front. With the way the war is going, she will get her wish sooner rather than later, and I would rather already be here when she does.”

“Right.” Fieran didn’t want to think about his little sister being thrown into this world of blood and death.

Of her taking a life and feeling the weight on her soul that he now carried.

That Dacha carried. But she had an intensity inside her that wouldn’t be satisfied until she followed in Dacha’s footsteps.

“Besides, I could not abandon the squadron.” Merrik shifted, as if he had been about to elbow Fieran but hesitated to do so.

“It hasn’t been the same without you.” Fieran didn’t hesitate. He gave Merrik a light nudge with his elbow.

Merrik’s smile made a brief appearance, there and gone in a blink. He hung his head again, his hands braced on either side of him as he stared down at his foot and stump. “And I had to come back for myself. I needed to fly again. I had to reclaim that piece of myself.”

There was an ache to Merrik’s voice, one Fieran somewhat understood from those difficult first days after the crash even though his recovery had been nothing like Merrik’s.

Fieran glanced down at Merrik’s stump and the prosthetic sitting on the bed on Merrik’s other side. “Are you all right?”

Merrik’s fingers tightened on the edge of the cot, his shoulders stiffening. “I am…getting there. Some days, I do not feel like myself. As if the person I was before died in that crash, and now I do not even know who am I anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Fieran briefly rested a hand on Merrik’s shoulder before letting it fall back to his side. “I would’ve been there if I could have.”

“I know. But Adry was there.” Merrik’s smile returned, soft and wistful. “Some days were so hard and yet so good at the same time. Those days…those days I felt more myself than ever.”