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I take a drink of my own coffee before leaning back in my chair. “I get headaches too. Chronic migraines, actually. Had them for as long as I can remember.”

Micah looks up, his expression immediately sharpening. “You do?”

“Aye.” I tap a finger against the side of my mug. “They can get pretty bad sometimes.”

“What do you do for them?”

I shrug. “Smoke some dreamleaf. Helps take the edge off.”

Micah nods slowly. “I give that to some of my patients. Usually as a relaxant.”

A smile twitches on my mouth. “Maybe you could use some yourself.”

He blinks. “Dreamleaf?”

“Relaxation.”

His lips pull into a little pout. “I’m not uptight all the time.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I know how to have fun… sometimes. Under the right circumstances.”

A laugh rattles in my chest. “If you say so.”

He gives me an indignant look over the rim of his mug, and I have to bite back another grin.

Micah takes another sip of coffee, his attention drifting around the room. When his eyes land on the workbench across the room, his face lights up.

He sets down his mug. “Are those—”

He’s already out of his chair before I can answer. I watch him hurry across the room, the oversized tunic swaying around his knees. He stops beside the workbench and leans over the new set of prosthetic wings, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I spent the past week working on those. Now, seeing Micah inspect them, every little flaw suddenly seems glaringly obvious.

“The frame is aluminum this time,” I explain, rising from my chair. “It should make them significantly lighter than the first set.”

Micah carefully lifts one of the prosthetics, examining the joints.

“Now I just need to attach the leather between the braces,” I explain. “That’ll form the webbing.”

Micah reaches out, running one finger gently across the large piece of thin leather.

“This is incredible,” he says softly.

I shrug. “There are still a few things I need to adjust.”

Micah narrows his eyes at me over his shoulder. “Just take the compliment, Lucan.”

A shy laugh slips out of me. “Okay. Thank you.”

He brushes a thumb across the shiny aluminum. “When will you be ready to have Maple take another test flight?”

I rock back on my heels, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “In a few days, probably.”

“Great. Whenever you’ve finished, come to my cottage and we can try them out. I have a good feeling about it this time.” His copper eyes shimmer with hope, warm and gentle. “She’s gonna fly, Lucan. I know it.”

My chest feels tight. “Aye. I hope so.”