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“We are assuming they let me.” Merrik held her gaze, even as he waved to his right leg. “They still might refuse my request.”

“Oh, they’ll let you. I’ll make sure of it, if that’s what you want.” Adry planted one hand on her hip, waving the other one as if vanishing his worries.

He sighed but he found himself smiling. For some reason, her promise of interference didn’t rub him the wrong way. He knew her heart behind it, and he appreciated that she’d go to battle—metaphorically speaking, at least—for him. “They would not dare refuse in that case.”

She crossed her arms, the gesture tight as if she was holding herself together more than keeping others out. “Ironic, isn’t it? I can probably use my connections and influence to get you back into the war, but I can’t do it for myself. The orders keeping me here came down from Uncle Weylind himself.”

“I know how frustrating that is for you.” Merrik tried to put as much sympathy into his voice as he could. She needed him to be a supportive boyfriend, even if his own gut reaction was to keep her here in the peace and safety of Estyra rather than have her face the realities of war. She didn’t know what war was like; he did.

Yet he knew Adry. He knew her fierceness, her magic, her skills. There was something inside of her that wouldn’t be satisfied until she could fully unleash the fury inside of her.

“You will be sent to the front before this war ends.” Merrik managed a hint of a smile as he held out a hand to her. “If I do not return now, I would likely find myself as the one left behind here in Estyra.”

The slightest curve of her smile returned as she crossed the space, took his hand, and eased onto a seat next to him again. “Scout the situation for me, won’t you? And maybe start working on my dacha and uncle until they finally call me up?”

“I will do my best, but I am not sure I dare press my luck with your dacha.” Merrik nudged her with his elbow. “I am going to tell him that I am courting his daughter. I do not dare follow that up by asking for him to call you into danger. He would question my sanity.”

“He’s going to be so busy being shocked by the fact that we’re courting that he will not be able to process anything else.” Adry shook her head, her grin in full force once again. “What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face when you tell him.”

“I will do my best to describe it to you.” Merrik squeezed her fingers. Before he left, the two of them would need to come up with a plan on how to break the news to her parents. Given the strength of her parents’ heart bond, each of them would be able to feel the emotions of the other. It would take careful timing to tell them around the same time, if possible.

But first, he would need to approach the commander of the elven squadron stationed here at Estyra and convince him to certify that Merrik was able to fly. Then there would be the paperwork that would need to be submitted.

But he would fly again.

Chapter

Sixteen

Hefting his two bags over a shoulder, his folded wheelchair under his arm, and leaning on his wooden staff, Merrik stepped from the train onto the platform below the bluffs of Fort Defense. Here, the Hydalla River formed the border between the allied kingdoms of Tarenhiel and Escarland while, just to the east of where he stood, the Whitehurst Mountains and Chibo River created the war front along the border between Escarland and the Mongavarian Empire.

All around this train platform, huge steel and cement buildings formed a warren of warehouses to contain the material needed for war. Trucks driven by human and troll workers rumbled between the buildings, the cargo beds loaded with crates and boxes headed for the various sections of the sprawling complex that was Fort Defense.

High on the bluffs above lay the headquarters and aerodrome while on this level sprawled the transportation and warehousing hub, including this train station and docks for both warships and cargo ships.

A blue glow on the horizon marked the Wall, the magical barrier created by Uncle Farrendel, King Weylind, and King Rharreth of the trolls seventy years ago along the border between the Alliance Kingdoms and the Mongavarian Empire. As long as the Wall stood, Mongavaria couldn’t invade the Alliance any way besides by air.

“Merrik, sason.” His dacha’s voice, calling him by the elvish endearment of son, drew his gaze to the end of the platform. Dacha strode his way, dressed in the evergreen uniform of the Tarenhieli Army, his chestnut hair long down his back.

“Dacha.” Merrik set down his bags, staff, and wheelchair just in time to step into his dacha’s elven hug. His dacha gripped Merrik’s shoulders firmly, and Merrik returned the gesture with his own tight grip.

Dacha’s gaze searched his face. “You look well, sason.”

“I am.” Sure, his stump throbbed after wearing his prosthetic all day while traveling, and his left ankle ached.

But he was here, he was standing, and he was going to fly again.

“Good.” Dacha’s voice was somewhat rough as he dropped his hands and took a step back. “Here. Let me carry that for you.”

Before Merrik could protest, Dacha picked up both the wheelchair and Merrik’s larger bag, leaving the slightly smaller bag for Merrik to carry.

Dacha likely needed to feel like he was helping in some way. He’d spent the past weeks stuck here at the front, hearing about Merrik’s recovery from telephone calls instead of being there in person.

At least Dacha carrying so much freed Merrik to lean more heavily on the wooden staff he’d taken, trying to ease some of the pressure on his aching legs.

The two of them made their way from the train platform, between the buildings, and to the platform at the base of the bluffs for the tram that ran from this section of Fort Defense up to the sections above.

Groups of men and women already waited on the platform while the tram worked its way down the slope. Merrik and his dacha joined them, standing on the outskirts rather than pushing forward.