“I’m sorry.” That lump was back in her throat. Merrik hadn’t sent a message to any of them in the squadron. “But it must be a good sign if he’s coming back, right? He could have easily taken an honorable discharge or a transfer to the reserve squadrons in Estyra or Aldon. He didn’t have to come back to the Half-Breed Squadron if he didn’t want to.”
In fact, returning to the Half-Breed Squadron was by far the hardest option. Merrik would’ve had to fight to return, as demonstrated by the fact that Colonel Dentley and Fieran had to give their stamp of approval on the paperwork.
Surely he wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t healing from the bitterness that had made him push them all away after his crash.
“Maybe.” Fieran took another step away from her, shaking his head again. “I just hope…”
“Yeah. Me too.” Pip reached out to take his hand, the ache in his eyes and voice mirroring the one in her heart.
Merrik had been so hurt and bitter. Would things be the same when he returned?
After another moment, Fieran released another long breath. He straightened his shoulders, a smile returning. “We’d better tell the others the good news. At least, anyone who is awake.”
The ruckus of celebrating flyboys would wake everyone up, no doubt. But Pip forced a grin of her own and hurried at his side toward the row of tents.
Chapter
Nineteen
Fieran stood on the grass a few yards away from the tram platform, trying to still his jitters. The late afternoon sun beat onto his face and the back of his neck, reminding him that he probably should have put on his service cap but he’d been in too much of a hurry.
He’d wanted to meet the train, but Uncle Iyrinder had—probably wisely—insisted that he meet the train alone to give Merrik space rather than everyone swarming him upon arrival.
Fieran had acquiesced. It was, after all, the same reason he was waiting here alone. He’d asked everyone, including Pip, to wait for Merrik in the hangar rather than overwhelm him the moment he stepped off the tram.
He would step off the tram, right? Surely he wouldn’t have been allowed to return to Fort Defense if he hadn’t regained his ability to walk.
But Fieran didn’t know. He didn’t know what had been going on with Merrik outside of the short updates Uncle Iyrinder provided during the few mornings when Fieran snatched a morning practice.
At least Mongavaria had let up on attacks today, so Fieran wasn’t in the air for the first time in weeks.
The tram clattered its way up the hill before easing to a halt beside the platform. The doors whooshed open, and various men and women poured from the tram, most of them headed in the direction of the headquarters building.
Finally, Uncle Iyrinder strode from the final tram car, his long chestnut hair flowing over the shoulders of his evergreen elven uniform. He carried a large, wooden contraption under one arm and a large bag in the other.
Then a familiar figure with matching long chestnut hair stepped from the tram, dressed in the olive-green uniform of the Escarlish Flying Corps. Even from this distance, Merrik’s face seemed somewhat haggard, his gait hitching in a way it hadn’t before. A large canvas bag was slung over one shoulder while his sword rested at his hip. He carried a cane in his free hand, though he wasn’t using it at the moment.
Merrik halted and swept a glance over the tents and the hangar before his gaze snagged on Fieran. But he almost immediately looked away, turning back to Uncle Iyrinder.
Uncle Iyrinder set down the items he was carrying and clasped Merrik’s shoulders in an elven hug, saying something to him.
Merrik gave a slight nod, his shoulders stiff, as if he was caught somewhere between defensive bristling and weary slumping.
Then Uncle Iyrinder glanced at Fieran, gave him a nod as if to signal him, and strode off the platform, heading in the direction of headquarters.
For a moment, Fieran still hesitated, unable to force his feet to move. He wasn’t even sure what to say to Merrik.
Which was ridiculous. This was Merrik. His best friend since they were both babies.
With a deep breath, Fieran strode forward, hopped onto the platform, and halted in front of him.
Merrik leaned the cane against his side before he crossed his arms, regarding Fieran with a hard, impassive look that gave nothing of his thoughts away.
Fieran opened his mouth but for a moment all the words he needed to say lodged in his throat. He needed to apologize. To make things right.
Instead, he found himself all but babbling, “I hope your train ride was good. Everyone is excited to have you back. Do you need anything? Can I carry something?”
Merrik remained silent for another moment, arms still crossed, eyes and jaw still hard. When he spoke, his expression didn’t change. “I kissed your sister.”
