“Entertain?”
Arrin appears offended. “I wouldn’t mess around with a princess. I’m not that stupid.”
Kalt raises a brow, silent, and Arrin whacks his shoulder, then slumps into the vacant seat on his left.
The lion clock keeps ticking.
Quarter after seven. Could I be out of this in ten minutes? What are the odds of that?
“The coming weeks will be strategic ones for us,” Father continues, “and unfortunately, I can’t be everywhere at once. Arrin, you’ll go to Thurn with Windom, to investigate the situation firsthand.”
Arrin slaps the table. “I get to be the first one of us to visit Thurn’s welcoming locals? Fun.”
Father looks at Kalt. I love when he ignores Arrin completely. “You’ll return to Valon. Evertal’s conducting our summit with the new Karkevite leadership, and I need someone as my voice there.”
“How about I take the summit?” Arrin asks. “I won that war. Send Kalt and his sailboat to visit the friendly Nahir.”
“You’re well aware that Windom is grateful for your expertise,” Father replies.
Arrin grimaces, drumming his fingers on the chair. “He’s the one who’s been in Thurn as long as I’ve been alive. He and the rest have made a damn mess of it, and now I’m expected to clean it up and tame the rebels? These aren’t the kind who’ll shake my hand at the end of the day.”
“You’re quite right,” Father agrees, “and if they cut out your tongue, they’d be doing me a favour.”
I laugh. Can’t help it. Kalt suppresses his behind a cough.
Father turns to me. “And you’re coming to Etania.”
Laughter dies on my lips. “Sir?”
“Yes, what?” Arrin echoes.
“I’m not going alone,” Father says. “I’ll have Malek there, but he’ll be with me every moment. I need someone to watch where I’m not.”
My mouth hangs open. It’s only been six weeks since Mother’s death, and if Sinora Lehzar did it, then I can’t face her. I can fake a lot of things, but I can’t look into that woman’s face and smile.
I can’t.
Arrin beats me to the protest. “This is absurd, Father! We don’t know what Sinora’s capable of. You’ll give her a perfect target.”
“No, you would be a perfect target,” Father says. “You’re worth something in this game. Athan counts for nothing.”
I’m too stunned to be offended by that.
“Then take me,” Arrin says. “Let’s see how far she’s willing to go.”
Father frowns. “Your bold instinct doesn’t always translate well in politics.” He turns back to me. “She has two children about your age. You can get them to talk, can’t you?”
Now this has to be a joke. “They’re royals,” I say. “They’ll never talk to me.”
“Arrin found a way here.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s the way you want, sir,” Kalt offers.
Arrin whacks him again, then leans on the table, motioning at me. “That bitch will know exactly who he is, hidden behind the name Erelis or not. She knew Mother. She knows more about us than anyone else in the North, and that’s a bad enough card as it is. Don’t shove Athan into it.”
Is Arrin still defending me? That might be the most surprising thing here.
Father smiles. “Of course. But I have Sinora up a tree. She’ll play innocent, anything to avoid suspicion, for as long as it takes. If she doesn’t play by my rules, I’ll simply let the noose tighten quicker.”
Only my father can smile while talking about a noose.
“You’ll come to Etania,” he says firmly, “and then, Lieutenant, you begin your training in Thurn. I’ve just received word that the remodeled fighters are on their way. New twelve-cylinder engine. Twin cannons along with the machine guns. Squadron officers are getting them first, but I’ve requested some for certain officers-in-training.”
And there it is—the hook. I sink back in my seat, the glint of new metal before me. A fresh fighter. A real one with the black swords of the Safire beneath the wings and more firepower than whatever the rest are flying with. Any advantage in the sky is worth it, especially from the man who said he’d never pull strings.
“Air Force command will be curious about how they handle,” Father continues. He knows he’s angled me into position. “You’ll give them a full report.”
“One for Hajari as well?” I ask, since this is key.
“Naturally.”
Father holds my gaze, waiting.
I nod. “Thank you, sir.”
“He bought you with a plane,” Arrin mutters. “Everyone’s gone mad.”
Father ignores him again. “Any questions?”
We shake our heads.
“Very good.”
He goes back to signing his papers, clock still ticking, and I wonder what I’ve just agreed to.
* * *
The gleam of new metal disappears the night before we leave Norvenne. I lie there, memories of Mother covered in blood sabotaging my sleep, eating away the early morning hours. When it’s time to get up, I glance in the mirror and find a pale-looking kid with shadowed eyes and a hint of weary desperation. It’s not very attractive. The only thing I want right now is to fly. It’s been two weeks since I was in a cockpit and there’s a terrible impatience building, like I’m holding my breath, drowning underwater until I’m in the sky again.
But it’s Garrick and Ollie who get to pilot the two new fighters from Landore to Etania. As dawn touches the east, the large airbase on the outskirts of Norvenne hums with activity. The Landorians have the busy east runway, their blue uniforms darting around the tarmac in the distance. Most of their airplanes are bound for the South, military transports loaded with supplies and weaponry for their forces there. We have the quiet west circuit. Father’s plane is fueled, and an unmarked transport sits beside it, smaller and older.
Father’s with me on the dispersal hut balcony, watching impatiently.
“Why aren’t our fighters on their way?” he demands.
“Nearly ready, sir,” says a crewman with a nervous salute.
“That’s what someone said fifteen minutes ago. Her Majesty expects us by morning.”
The crewman nods and scurries off, hollering orders over the radio in his hand.
On the tarmac, Garrick and Ollie are dressed in flight suits and waiting to climb into their cockpits. The two new fighters—complete with twin cannons—appear ghostlike in the low light, grey wings the colour of the sky.
“Damn engines. They’ll need to refuel twice as much,” Father says to me.
I stifle a yawn. “Bringing them along is a headache.”
“I need to make the proper impression. These new planes will do just that.”
“I meant Captain Carr and Officer Helsun.”
Father pins me with a look. “You’d better learn to have a more optimistic view of Captain Carr. You and Hajari are being placed with the Moonstrike squadron for the summer. Carr is one of the best in the air, and he knows how to run a successful squadron. He’ll show you what it means to be decisive.”
I’m in the middle of another yawn, my stunned hand gripping the metal rail.
Before us, Garrick climbs into the cockpit, waving to ground crew, a stupid grin on his face like he’s putting on some kind of death-defying show. The engine starts with a piercing growl.
“I can’t train with him,” I say above the racket. The noise feels a bit like protection, emboldening me. “Let me fly with another squadron. Captain Malek would be—”
“No, it’s a good test, as Arrin suggested.” Father’s facing the tarmac again, but he glances sideways at me. “If you’re going to be a leader, you’ll have to learn to deal with your opposite.”
Of course Arrin was behind this. I can feel exhausted anger ready to leap out, but Father halts it with a sharp look. “I’d hate,” he says, “for Officer Hajari to go into battle without those cannons. I think it’s up to you to prove he needs that new fighter. Perhaps he’d even do better in another squadron, away from you? Separation is good for growth.”