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Dacha didn’t jump back as her elven instructors might have. Instead, he swayed away from her blades as easily as a branch bending in the breeze. His own swords glided through the air in deceptively easy motions as he matched her speed effortlessly.

And that made something inside her furious. Yes, her dacha was far better than her. Yes, he had more magic, more years of experience. But something in her wanted to at least be a challenge for him.

Her magic burned hotter, fiercer, and she moved with its energy. Slicing, parrying, dodging, blocking, thrusting, swinging. It was the familiar dance of every morning of her childhood, and yet at a pace and ferocity those morning practices with her dacha and siblings had never reached. This practice held the very real knowledge that these skills weren’t merely theoretical. They would be put to the test on the battlefield in mere days.

Adry’s swing went just a hair wide. Not enough for anyone else to take advantage. But her dacha wasn’t any other elf, and he stepped into her space, his strike sending her sword wide and his other sword resting against her neck.

She let her swords drop to her sides as she panted for breath, her magic still sizzling through her veins.

After a moment, Dacha took a step back. He, too, was breathing hard, and a faint sheen of sweat glowed along his brow. “You did well, sena.”

Then why wasn’t it enough? Why did her magic still burn within her, begging for more?

“Linshi.” She swiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, careful not to hit herself with the sword she still gripped.

Dacha studied her face for a moment before he sheathed his swords, crossed the space between them, and gripped her shoulders in the elven hug, even as his gaze held hers. “You are already Laesornysh.”

Those words stabbed into her. He’d named her Laesornysh, but his tone lacked the particular elven emphasis to denote an earned, elven title. She was Laesornysh, but she wasn’t yet Laesornysh, not even to her own dacha.

She couldn’t help the slight bitter note to her tone. “Yes, but I still need to prove it, don’t I?”

“Sena…” Dacha lengthened the endearment on a sigh, his grip tightening on her shoulders. “You do not need to prove anything. Perhaps you are not yet a warrior Laesornysh, although I have no doubt that you will be a great one. But you are always my daughter, your mama’s daughter. You are always a Laesornysh.”

And that was when she finally understood what Dacha was telling her, in that particularly cryptic elven way. For him, the elven warrior title Laesornysh wasn’t the important one. The surname Laesornysh—and the family it represented—meant everything to him.

Because of that, she had nothing to prove to him. He would be proud of her for carrying on his legacy, but he wouldn’t love her more once she did. He couldn’t. He already loved her with the unconditional, wholehearted love of a parent.

“Linshi, Dacha.” She would have given him an elven shoulder hug in return, but she still held her swords at her sides.

Dacha nodded, as if satisfied he’d imparted the needed parental wisdom, and dropped his hands.

Perhaps he had. She would, certainly, carry his words deep in her heart when she went into battle in the new few days.

And yet, while she had nothing to prove to him or her family, that didn’t mean she didn’t need to prove her right to carry that name to the rest of the world. Or to herself.

Adry leaned her head against Merrik’s shoulder as the two of them sat on the platform beside his tent, watching the sunset glow behind the large mass of the hangar. “I can’t believe they’re sending your squadron off now that I’m finally here at Fort Defense.”

She’d only been at Fort Defense a couple of days. Only two mornings of practices. Only two evenings spent with Merrik.

Yet in the morning, he would be flying off with Fieran and the rest of the squadron. They were being sent to support the invasions into Mongavaria through the two mountain passes to the south. A mobile Laesornysh unit, as it were.

“It would not matter if we stayed here.” Merrik rubbed his hand down her upper arm, even as he held her close. “You are being sent off to spend a week at the front.”

True. In the morning, she would leave with their dachas to spend a week at the invasion front spearheaded from Fort Defense. Even if he stayed here, they wouldn’t be together.

“I know.” She snuggled into him as the last rays of the sun glinted off the metal hangar before them. “I just wish you could be the one flying overhead when I go into battle the first time.”

There had been something comforting in picturing that. Even if they couldn’t be together, they would have been still watching out for each other.

Instead, overwatch would be provided by the other two squadrons stationed at Fort Defense. And their attentions would be split between protecting the invasion, providing firepower from the air, and escorting the newfangled bomber aeroplanes on their runs into Mongavaria.

“Me too.” Merrik’s sigh stirred her hair a moment before he pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. “But duty calls.”

“In other words, at the beck and call of my uncles.” She heaved a sigh. The kings of all three Alliance Kingdoms were her uncles, not to mention Escarland’s and Kostaria’s leading generals. “You’d think that would give me some sway in keeping us together, but no. At least we won’t be separated for long.”

She was only supposed to be on the front for a week while Merrik’s squadron was set to return to Fort Defense in two weeks or less, depending on how the invasion progressed. All of the squadron’s support personnel, including Pip and the other mechanics, were staying here at Fort Defense so it wasn’t like they could stay away forever.

“As long as they do not decide we are doing too good of a job and permanently transfer us.” Merrik’s tone turned extra glum.