Page 34 of Storm to Victory
“No, there isn’t.” Mak finally uncrossed his arms before he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Just stay safe, Pipsqueak.”
“I’ll do my best.” Pip embraced him back, holding tightly, her throat closing. “And you stay safe as well. The aerodrome will be a more dangerous place once all of us are gone and can’t shield it during attacks.”
“I’ll be fine.” Mak released her and took a step back. He stood there for a moment, an awkward silence falling between them.
Pip flapped a hand at him. “Go on. I don’t leave for a couple of days, and both of us have work to do.”
Mak sighed before he smiled, the expression still strained. He turned and strolled away, likely to find the first aeroplane on his checklist that was in need of repairs.
Fieran stepped into sight as he entered the barn, his swords strapped across his back. He halted by Mak, and the two of them exchanged a few words in a low tone too quiet for Pip to hear.
Not that she needed to hear it. Whatever he said, it was likely some version ofKeep my sister safe or else.
Fieran nodded, clapped Mak on the shoulder, and strode past him, headed for Pip. When he reached the workbench, he shoved a few tools aside and boosted himself to sit next to her on the wooden surface. “Mak seems to have taken the news as well as could be expected.”
“Yeah. He’s worried, but he knows this is something I need to do.” Pip picked up one of her wrenches, turning it over to keep her hands busy.
Fieran sighed and nodded, as if he was struggling with the same thing. After a moment, he drew one of his swords, resting it across his lap as if he too needed something to fiddle with.
Yet as the silence lingered between them, Pip glanced up at him, searching his face. “No practice this morning?”
“No.” Fieran turned his sword over in his hands so that the flat was up, then the single, dulled blade. “They weren’t up for practice. Dacha needed time alone, and Adry is with Merrik.”
Understandable. Even though both Merrik and Adry would remain here, the burden of being Laesornysh would fall squarely on her shoulders once Prince Farrendel left. Pip couldn’t imagine facing war quite like that. Even on this mission, she wouldn’t be expected to fight. She was going for her mechanical skills and ability to create defensive shields.
Pip leaned her head against Fieran’s shoulder, drawing on his warmth and strength. “Are you all right?”
Fieran released a long breath as he stared down at the sword in his hands. “Yeah. It’s just…going to be hard to leave the squadron behind.”
“Yes, it is.” She blinked at the pressure of that fast-approaching parting. She’d started this war with the flyboys. For some reason, she’d thought she’d end the war with them as well.
Perhaps they still would. Depending on how long it took them to return with the former prisoners, she and Fieran might be able to rejoin the squadron in time to be there when Prince Edmund and Prince Farrendel did whatever they planned to do to end the war.
After taking a deep breath, Fieran lifted the sword he was holding. “Do you know one of the dwarves who could put a proper edge on my swords? They’re dwarven-made, but they’re dull-edged practice swords, barely more than the toys that my first wooden training swords were. I think for this mission that I’m going to need my swords to be proper weapons. Like Dacha’s.”
In other words, he needed to fully become Laesornysh, an elven warrior who carried deadly blades capable of tasting blood.
Pip swallowed and nodded without lifting her head from his shoulder. “Yes, Draenelynn probably could, and if she can’t, her mentor is also here. She’s training to be a warrior bladesmith, someone highly valued by the dwarves.”
When she peeked up at him, he was grimacing. Probably at the thought of having to ask Rhohen’s girlfriend for a favor.
But after a moment, he held the sword out between them. “So…do I just…or should you…”
Pip laughed, straightened, and held out her hand. “I can ask her. Cousin-to-cousin.”
Fieran rested the sword across his lap and unbuckled the sheaths and remaining sword from his back. Once he shrugged free, he sheathed the sword and handed both of them to Pip.
Pip swallowed as she wrapped her fingers around his swords. There was a strange finality in the gesture. When he held those swords again, they would be lethal in a way they never had before.
He would be Laesornysh. His dacha’s son.
And she could only hope the Fieran she’d fallen in love with would remain beneath the warrior he would become.
As the grayafter the sunset descended around the mansion, Pip sat on the front step of the mansion, staring at the line of trees, parked aeroplanes, and makeshift airfield that stretched before her.
What had she been thinking when she agreed to go on that mission into Mongavaria? She wasn’t a warrior. She’d nearly fallen apart on that small incursion to retrieve those machines. How could she possibly face a deadly secret mission into the very heart of the enemy empire?
This was crazy.
