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Merrik kept reading through the letters. After the first few, which had been filled with Fieran’s apologies and realizations about his oblivious recklessness and tendency to ignore the feelings of others, he switched to writing about the squadron. Their antics had only gotten more hilarious over the weeks since Merrik had last been there.

His squadron. Lije, the backwoods boy from southern Escarland. Pretty Face, the flaky son of an Escarlish lord who had grown considerably less flaky since basic training. Stickyfingers, the Escarlish semi-reformed thief. Rothilion, a stuffy elf noble who had also grown a great deal since he and the other elves had been added to the squadron. Tiny, Aylia, Murray, and the others.

Merrik had barely spared a thought for them since his crash. Was that any better than Fieran’s obliviousness of before? Yes, Merrik had been valid in concentrating on healing. He’d lost a leg, after all.

But the other people in his life were the reason to keep pushing through. More, his squadron had been facing injury and death for the past weeks while he’d been here in the peace of Estyra. He should have given them some consideration instead of becoming so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t even written Fieran or any of the others.

Then he came to a letter that stole his smile and chilled his bones.

We lost Pretty Face today. He’s still alive, as far as we know. He safely landed his aeroplane in Mongavaria, but we don’t know if he’s still free and in hiding or if he’s been captured.

They’d lost Pretty Face. Merrik swallowed and read the rest of the letter as Fieran described what had happened. One of the new pilots had gotten caught up in her first dogfight and done something reckless, causing her and Fieran to be split off from the rest of the squadron.

If Merrik had been there, would he have been able to prevent the crash? Fieran had always depended on him to be a second pair of eyes, keeping watch over the squadron. Merrik might have been able to head the pilot off. Fieran might have sent Merrik after her instead of going himself. Or Merrik would have been there with the rest of the squadron, protecting them.

His squadron needed him.

Merrik stretched out his legs before him, both the stump of his right leg and the three-toed foot on the left. What was preventing him from flying again? With a brace on his left leg and his prosthetic on the right, there was no reason he couldn’t operate the rudder bar. It took enough strength that he’d moved it as much with the muscles of his thighs and his knees as he did with small adjustments with his feet. He could probably have a stiff peg leg on his right leg and still fly just fine.

“Bother.” Merrik leaned back on his hands and stared at the sky for a long moment. For the first time since his crash, the longing to feel the weightless, heady thrill of flight stirred within his chest. “Fieran was right.”

We’ll fly again. That was the last thing Fieran had said to him before they’d parted in Fort Defense. Back then, Merrik hadn’t wanted to hear that optimistic hope, nor take the hand of friendship and support Fieran had extended to him.

But as always, Fieran had been right. They would fly again.

The lift rattled, the pulley squeaking, before the small platform came into view. Adry stood there, her hand on the button to activate the small magically powered engine. Once the lift was slightly above the balcony, she pushed the other button to move it forward a few feet before setting the lift down on the balcony where he’d be able to roll his wheelchair onto it if needed.

When Adry’s gaze landed on him, her smile faded. She crossed the balcony and sank into a sitting position as close as she could without sitting on any of the letters scattered around him. “What’s wrong?”

“I read Fieran’s letters.” Merrik gestured to the mess around him. “One of my squadron mates crashed in Mongavaria. He is still alive, as far as anyone knows. But it happened weeks ago, and I did not even know. I should have known. I would have, if I had not been avoiding these.”

“I’m sorry.” Adry leaned forward and rested a hand over his. “Were you close?”

“Yeah. He was a part of our inner group.” Merrik turned his hand to grip her fingers. “The squadron will not be the same without him.”

Adry squeezed his fingers in return, her eyes searching his face. “You need to return to them, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Merrik dropped his gaze to the letters rather than holding hers.

“Will they let you fly again?” Adry gestured at his legs, her hand’s movement visible out of the corner of his eye.

“I hope so. They are desperate for pilots, and I believe having a prosthetic will not interfere too much with my ability to fly.” Merrik’s chest squeezed at the thought of getting into an aeroplane again. Was that fear or excitement that twisted inside him? Perhaps a bit of both. Fear of crashing. Excitement at flying.

Would the army allow him to fly again? Or would they continue processing his discharge papers and send him on his way no matter what he wanted?

Yanking her hand from his, Adry jumped to her feet and marched a few paces away, her shoulders stiff, her back to him.

That twisting from his chest settled into his stomach. “You are angry.”

Returning to duty would mean leaving her, after all. It would be an end of their long, blissful summer days together.

He could stay here. He didn’t have to return. No one would question his courage if he never returned. He’d done his duty already, and he would be entirely valid in taking the discharge and leaving the army for good.

But his squadron needed him, and he could feel deep in his soul that he had more to give.

Yet returning to war would appear like he was choosing Fieran and the squadron over Adry. His duty over his love for her. Was that fair to her? Would she understand that he didn’t love her any less?

“I’m not angry. I’m just…jealous, I guess.” When she spun to face him, her blue eyes burned. She jabbed a hand at him. “It’s just not fair that you can return to duty, and I’ll still be stuck here. You’ve served already, sacrificed already, and yet you have the option of going back and doing it all over again while I haven’t even been given my first chance yet.”