“Well, if it isn’t the Warwick whelp,” she sneered until she caught sight of Faron. “Childe Empyrean! What an honor.”
Faron nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything.
“The Empyrean needs to return home to Deadegg,” Reeve said as if he hadn’t been insulted. “The queen has given permission for her to visit her parents before being brought back here to the palace. I’m told you can make that round trip in less than a day?”
“Of course we can. But we’ll have to check with the queen before we can just—”
“This really can’t wait,” Reeve replied. “It’s supposed to be a quick trip.”
“Can you fly this thing or not?” Faron added impatiently.
The girl looked between them, biting her lip. “Oh, this isn’t my drake, Empyrean. But we can definitely take you in Liberty if we have the proper clearance—”
“Soleil, did you say ‘Empyrean’?” said a familiar male voice from the top of Valor’s exit ramp. “Faron fucking Vincent, I should have known you’d try to pull something like this.”
Faron groaned. Jogging down the ramp was none other than Jordan Simmons, and, even after two months, little had changed about the boy whose rayes she’d stolen in a footrace. His curly locs had maybe gotten longer, inching down over his broad forehead, and he’d recently touched up his fade. Instead of his public school uniform, he was dressed in the green-and-gold military jacket and pants of the Sky Battalion. But though his name tag identified him as Flank Pilot Simmons, he still looked like an arrogant bully to her.
An arrogant bully who would mess up her whole plan.
“I’m not pulling anything,” Faron said through gritted teeth. “Valor choseyouas a pilot? You’re too young to enlist!”
“I just turned eighteen, thank you very much. You really haven’t been back in Deadegg for a while, huh?” he asked, as condescending as ever. “Valor is being called the Deadegg Drake because every pilot it chose came from Deadegg.”
As if summoned, two more people came down the exit ramp. The first was a girl with burgundy braids spilling out from her golden knitted cap, long-lashed brown eyes, and deep brown skin freckled with dark spots across the tops of her cheeks. The second was a handsome boy with curly black hair tied into a messy top bun.
His teeth were bright against his dark skin when he smiled at Reeve. “Hey, mon. Long time no see.”
“Wayne, Aisha, hey!”
Wayne Pryor dragged Reeve into a hug interrupted by the freckled girl, Aisha Harlow, who jumped onto the boy’s back in an effort to join in. Reeve laughed, trying to adjust his grip to hug them both. His cheeks dimpled as he smiled wider than Faron had ever seen him smile before. He caught her watching and turned, his eyes the hazy blue of the Argent Mountains in the morning fog, and Faron’s breath hitched in her throat.
“You’re so predictable sometimes, Vincent,” said Jordan, smirking. “The Empyrean and a Warwick? I don’t think even you could pull that off.”
“Again, I’m not trying to pull anything.” Faron slid her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see the way they twitched. “Can you guys just take me to Deadegg for the day?”
“Anything for Elara’s kid sister,” Wayne responded before Jordan could. “As long as we get Valor back by sundown, I don’t think it will be a problem.”
Jordan’s black eyes narrowed at Faron. “I agree with Soleil. We should have the queen sign off on this. If these two claim she has, it’s definitely a lie.”
“Who would you two rather piss off?” Aisha asked, stretching languorously. “The throne or the gods?”
Jordan scowled but accepted that he was outnumbered. The pilots headed back up the exit ramp to prepare Valor for takeoff, and Soleil packed up her makeshift table so it wouldn’t be blown away. As Soleil headed back toward the castle, hopefully not to sound the alarm with Liberty’s pilots, Faron realized, abruptly,that she and Reeve were now alone on the landing strip. Her pulse skipped as she turned to face him, but she tried to shake it off.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she said over the rush of blood in her ears. “And, hopefully, Elara will be free by then, too.”
“I’ll be right here,” said Reeve, and it sounded like a promise. “Do whatever you need to, and then come back safely. Elara won’t care that she’s free if you had to get hurt in the process.” Before Faron could muster a reply to that, he added, “And I’d hate if you got hurt, too.”
Her face felt hot. Her lips parted, but she had no idea what to say that wouldn’t sound like… like…
Like she cared for him. Like she wanted him. Like the truth.
“Vincent!” Jordan Simmons was at the top of the exit ramp again, his scowl even deeper than before. “How long does it take to say goodbye?Move it.”
“I’m coming!” Faron snarled back at him.
Before she could lose her nerve, she darted forward and kissed Reeve’s cheek. After that, she intended to escape. To do what she did best and outrun the consequences of her own actions. To hide from whatever his response would be to her sudden burst of impulsivity.
She made it two steps before Reeve grabbed her wrist.
