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“Of course.” Fieran chuckled, low in his throat, as if he found it humorous to think of doing anything else.

This was Fieran, after all. Even a deadly mission like this was a grand adventure. Yes, he’d matured and hardened during the war. But he hadn’t fully lost his irrepressible incorrigibility.

“And you stay safe as well. If anything, you’ll have the far harder time of it.” The humor dropped from his tone. He glanced from her to where Merrik stood with his dacha a few yards away. “I’m glad you’ll have each other.”

“And I’m glad you and Pip will be together.” Adry forced herself to give Fieran one last squeeze of a hug before she stepped back. If something went wrong…if he were killed…this would be the last time she hugged him. The last time she saw him alive.

Nope. She couldn’t think like that. He would be all right. He’d fallen from the sky and survived. With Pip at his side and Dacha protecting both of them, he’d be fine.

When she stepped away from Fieran, he and Pip were surrounded by the Half-Breed Squadron pilots. While they’d be flying together one last time to drop Fieran and Pip off on their mission, this was their last chance to actually say farewell in person.

Her throat still tight with her suppressed tears, Adry strode into her dacha’s hug—a human-style, full-armed hug and not simply the elven shoulder-clasp hug.

She pressed her face against Dacha’s shoulder, and this time she couldn’t stop the hot trickle of tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes.

She couldn’t lose either of them. Not her big brother. Not her dacha. She could be strong enough to face battle without them. She could be strong enough to hold the weight of the Alliance invasion on her shoulders.

But she wouldn’t be strong enough to carry that loss.

Swallowing at the lump in her throat, she stuffed those thoughts down into a dark, locked box inside her chest. She couldn’t think about losing them.

Dacha eased from their tight hug to press his forehead to hers. It was an elven gesture, one exchanged between warriors who had faced battles together. “Stand strong, sena.”

“I will, Dacha.” Adry drew in a shuddering breath, straightening shoulders that already felt the weight of being the Laesornysh.

Dacha lifted his head, his gaze going beyond her. “Take care of them.”

Uncle Iyrinder halted next to her. “Of course I will, shashon.” He used the elven word for brother, not something that an elf did lightly.

Dacha reached out, clasped Uncle Iyrinder’s shoulder, and gave him a slight shake, his only acknowledgment. Adry suspected it was because her dacha couldn’t find the words. Or couldn’t force the words past a tight throat.

Within a few more minutes, everyone climbed into their aeroplanes. Fieran, Pip, Uncle Edmund, and Dacha settled into the second seats of the two-seaters, which had been brought in for this mission.

Adry stood next to Uncle Iyrinder as the two of them watched the Half-Breed Squadron take off, the formation turning toward the darkening sky in the east as, to the west, the horizon blazed in a glory of orange and pink.

Chapter

Thirty-One

Darkness pressed around the squadron, cold and biting. Merrik flexed his fingers in his gloves and his three toes in his boot to stay warm. At least he had only one foot to worry about keeping warm since his right prosthetic didn’t feel the cold.

Around him, the whine of the engines and whir of the propellers broke the silence of the sky, the tiny blue elven lights that lit their dashboard panels marking the locations of the rest of the squadron.

They’d flown at night a handful of times, but never something like this. It was generally regarded as rather unsafe to fly at night, and only an experienced squadron like theirs would have been able to pull off something like this.

Merrik checked the instruments, mentally making the calculations based on his airspeed and direction. He pressed the talk button for the radio on the control stick. “Half-Breed, we are five miles out. Prepare to go into battle formation.”

It was strange, giving orders to the squadron like this. Stranger still since Fieran was in the rear seat, a mere passenger listening to the calls Merrik made.

After a moment, a hand reached out and gripped Merrik’s shoulder. When he glanced in that direction, Fieran was leaning forward. “Merrik, I…” His voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the words for the moment.

Merrik nodded. They’d already said all the words that were needed.

But this was Fieran. He couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to talking. He squeezed Merrik’s shoulder and shouted to him rather than speaking over the radio, where the whole squadron would hear. “Take care of my sister.”

Merrik swallowed and half-turned farther in his seat, still gripping the control column in one hand. He could hear the undercurrent in Fieran’s voice, despite the fact that they had to shout to each other to be heard. This wasn’t merely Fieran asking Merrik to look after Adry—who needed very little looking after, given her sword skills and magic.

No, this was Fieran taking a step back, acknowledging the place Merrik held in Adry’s life now. Fieran was her big brother, but the job of being the support she needed was now primarily Merrik’s.