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When Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska stopped kissing, Dacha and Adry headed in their direction, though Adry kept her steps slow to avoid interrupting her aunt and uncle before they were ready to be interrupted.

Uncle Julien was grinning, his gaze focused on Aunt Vriska as he touched her cheek. “I see you were finally able to get away.”

“For a little while, anyway.” Aunt Vriska shrugged, grinning in return. “The elven general who relieved me appeared competent enough.”

“General Venthelian impressed me in our meetings. He isn’t you, but I’m sure he will be adequate.” Uncle Julien leaned closer, as if he were thinking about kissing Aunt Vriska again. But after a moment, he sighed and took a step back, as if realizing that now wasn’t the time.

When Aunt Vriska turned toward Adry and Dacha, Adry could see the toll of the weeks Aunt Vriska had spent on the front lines. She was thinner, her cheeks more sunken, her eyes slightly hollow. But she was smiling, and that was probably the most anyone could say about those who had fought in the war so far.

Aunt Vriska nodded to each of them. “It’s good to have you back at the front. My King Rharreth is, of course, a worthy and noble warrior, and Prince Rhohen is improving his skill in his magic. But he alone is nothing compared to having a Laesornysh, much less two, fighting at the front.”

“We will be ready to relieve Rharreth and Rhohen when you give the order.” Dacha tilted his head in a small nod. “Where will you have us stay until we return to the front?”

Aunt Vriska shared a smile with Uncle Julien, the two of them clasping hands, before she motioned to Adry and Dacha. “Your townhouse is right next to the one Julien and I will share.”

Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska set out along the street at a brisk pace. As they did, Aunt Vriska gestured at the town around them. “We have requisitioned the whole town so that Mongavarian spies cannot infiltrate it as easily, but we have still taken the precaution of foregoing any labels or changing the street names. You’ll have to memorize where everything is located.”

Adry looked about as they walked, taking in the sights as the buildings went from large warehouses to smaller shops and businesses and finally to a square lined with larger townhouses. This must’ve been a wealthy merchant town to have so many townhouses on such as fancy square.

Aunt Vriska waved toward the east. “The front lines are a few miles that way. For the next couple of days, we will still be within shelling and bombing range. But at the rate the front has been moving forward, this town will be well behind the lines shortly. The aeroplane squadron is stationed about a mile outside of town in that direction.”

The Half-Breed Squadron providing air cover would reduce the likelihood of any bombing attacks.

Adry took particular note of the street Aunt Vriska indicated. A mile wasn’t that far. If Adry had the chance, she was going to visit Merrik.

Aunt Vriska slowed her pace as they ambled around the large green space in the center of the square. They had to dodge the bustle of more military personnel and trucks as the might of the Alliance military complex settled into new billets in enemy territory.

“And these two townhouses…” Aunt Vriska pointed to two of the larger townhouses ringing the street. “Julien and I have the one on the right. The main floor has a dining room that will be quite suitable for meetings. The two of you and your guards will have the one on the left. It has a rather spacious ballroom that will provide a private space for morning practices, if you find the green outside to be too public.”

“Linshi, Vriska.” Dacha gave one nod, gripped his rucksack tighter, and moved toward the townhouse Vriska had indicated. Adry followed at a slower pace. A house this large would have plenty of rooms. There was no need to hurry to claim the best one, nor did she have any siblings here to fight off.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Merrik took in the sight of the brick manor house that stood stately and serene before him and Fieran. Well, it would’ve been serene except for the flyboys and flygirls shouting so loudly they could be heard even from outside. A few of them had even opened windows, half-hanging out as they shouted to each other from various rooms.

At least this was quite the upgrade from the tents they had back at Fort Defense. They even had their own cook and other personnel assigned to them, making this their own little base.

“I have a feeling it’s going to take all three of us to bring order to whatever chaos the flyboys have turned the mansion into.” Fieran clapped Merrik on the back before setting out for the manor’s main doors, following the path Lt. Rothilion—no, Capt. Rothilion—had taken a few minutes earlier.

Merrik was still getting used to the promotions both he and Rothilion had received before the squadron had been sent forward.

“Very true.” Merrik fell into step with Fieran, a grin on his face. His legs ached after the flight, but not too terribly. Together, he and Fieran climbed the steps and entered the large double doors into the marble-tiled entry hall. A massive oak staircase rose upward while a crystal chandelier dangled overhead.

He wasn’t sure what Mongavarian lord had abandoned this mansion, but the man certainly had a good deal of money to flaunt. Or he didn’t mind being in a good deal of debt.

In the center of the entry hall at the base of the stairs, a mound of boxes, crates, and rucksacks had been heaped in a pile, spilling across the floor.

Rothilion stood partway into the pile, poking at a few of the bags and inspecting the boxes. “I cannot find anything in this disorder.”

“I fear we’ll have to wait until everyone gets over their initial excitement to organize them and this.” Fieran shook his head and edged around the jumble. “Let’s pick out our rooms and come back to this later.”

Rothilion’s mouth curled, but he began extricating himself from the disarray.

Following Fieran, Merrik resisted his own urge to grimace as he picked his way past the mess toward a smaller hallway.

As soon as he stepped inside, it became obvious he had just left the ostentatious part of the mansion and entered the realm of the servants. Gone were the marble, wood paneling, and plush carpets. Instead, the plaster walls were bare and white-washed, a simple painted baseboard where the wall met the worn pine floorboards. At least the lack of a rug would make navigating the hall easier on days when he needed his chair.