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She fell into step with him, trying not to look too closely at the destruction or smell the scent of smoke and blood that still hung over the town.

Merrik strode between the gathered groups of pilots where they sat around the various campfires, stopping to talk to each one before moving on. His legs ached, but he refused to sit down until he’d checked in with all his pilots.

They were camped in a hayfield, the grasses shorn short, the hay taken in long ago during the heat of the summer. The aeroplanes were parked in rows, though far enough apart that Mongavarian bombs couldn’t take out more than one at a time. Camouflage netting had been strung over them to further hide them from the sky. Tents had been pitched beneath the wings so that each pilot could sleep near his or her aeroplane, and the wings could further protect the pilot from dew or rain.

A circle of army trucks were parked to one side, also hidden beneath netting. Mak and the other mechanics bustled from the trucks to the various aeroplanes since most of the vehicles were loaded down with aeroplane parts and the mechanics’ tools. The rest of the trucks carried the pilots’ gear and their food rations.

How Merrik missed the elegant mansion and—most of all—its solid stone floor. But temporary camps like this would be the lot of the Half-Breed Squadron until the war ended, hopefully in less than two weeks when Prince Edmund and Uncle Farrendel enacted their plan. For the next weeks, the Half-Breed Squadron would move forward each day, keeping pace with the moving front lines.

Merrik halted by a group of flyboys. “Great job, Murray, on the magic. Jones, how is the leg?”

Jones had taken a stray shot through the calf muscle during the battle. He shrugged and shifted. “So minor the elven healers decided not to waste healing magic on it. It’s all bandaged up.”

“Follow whatever orders they gave you for wound care, and try to keep it clean.” A tall order, given they would be camping in tents in random fields. Merrik made a mental note to keep an eye on Jones. If the flyboy began limping more or appeared wan, he’d send him back to the healers.

After exchanging a few words with the others at that campfire, Merrik moved away in the gathering darkness. He drew in a deep breath of the hay-tinged, dew-dampened air, only the faintest echoing booms in the distance to mark where the two sides were shelling each other into the night.

Where was Adry at the moment? Likely camped in a similar field, though she would be far closer to the front. Would she get any sleep? Or would she be kept awake protecting the Alliance troops from the late-night artillery barrage?

If only he could go to her. Hold her close as he’d done after her first deployment to the front.

But his duty was here and hers was there. Someday this war would end, and they’d be together again. Until then, he’d fight with every breath in him to return to her.

He trudged the last few yards to the final campfire and sank onto one of the crates the flyboys and flygirls had set up around this campfire. He stretched out his legs, sighing at the relief of taking the weight off his left ankle and his stump.

Lije hopped to his feet. “I can get you something to prop up your feet.”

“No, no. I am fine.” Merrik shifted, doing his best to hide his wince. “But thanks.”

Lije sank back onto his own crate. “Okay. But if you want something, I’ll fetch it.”

“I appreciate the offer.” Merrik glanced around at the faces gathered around the fire.

Their group had become so small, with Pretty Face missing in action, Rothilion on his secret mission, and Fieran in Mongavaria. Tiny hunched over a piece of paper spread out on a scrap of wood, scribbling a note for his girlfriend. Lije and Stickyfingers were taking turns stirring the pot of stew over the fire, concocted from their canned rations. Aylia wasn’t there, but he could hear her laugh from the campfire with some of the human flygirls.

He might miss the mansion base and Fort Defense. He might feel the loss of fighting this war without Fieran at his side, something he hadn’t thought would ever happen when the two of them had enlisted in the Flying Corps. He missed Adry desperately.

But there was nowhere else Merrik would want to be in this moment than right here with his squadron.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Adry paced back and forth in the trench to one side of the stone bunker, pressing herself to the wall of the trench whenever someone else needed to get by. As many of those making their way past her were the commanding officers heading to the meeting in the bunker, she spent most of her time plastered to the wall, saluting.

At last, a tall figure in an olive-green uniform turned the far corner of the trench, coming into sight. His chestnut hair, looking more brown than red in the low light of evening, hung loose while his stride was firm and confident.

With a slight squeal in the back of her throat, Adry rushed to him and flung herself into his arms.

Merrik gave an oof, but he only stumbled somewhat before he braced his shoulder against the wall of the trench. But then his arms wrapped around her, and he pressed his face against her hair.

For long moments, they stood like that, neither speaking, though the tightness of their grips on each other spoke all the things they didn’t say out loud. They’d spent over a week fighting the same war within sight of each other but never actually being together.

After heaving a sigh, Merrik stepped back slightly, but only enough for him to cradle her face and search her eyes. “How are you?”

“Hanging in there.” She leaned into his touch, soul-weary beyond words. The next days of fighting would be the hardest yet, both because they would be ramming into the Empress Line, the heavily fortified position across the kingdom where the Mongavarian Army planned to make its stand, and because she was already drained from over a week of non-stop battles. “And you?”

“Better than you, I think.” Merrik’s eyes studied hers for a moment longer before he took another step back, dropping his hands. “The fighting in the sky has been tough, but we have been managing.”