A Safire man approaches the General. “There was a request for a low pass, sir.”
“Was there?”
“For the Princess.”
“Very well,” the General says, glancing sideways at me. “You’ll like this one.”
I find his kindness wearing my anger down, yet again. It’s like we’re the only two on this balcony and he’s forgotten anyone else who might be wanting his attention. He’s interested only in my happiness.
I steal a glance at the Commander nearby. He’s idly sipping another full drink—his third? fourth? He covers a yawn, then catches my eye and gives a bored smile. “Father, how about we get some Etanian pilots up there? Make this an actual match?”
The General ignores him.
As I turn my gaze back to the sky, a growl of thunder skims the palace behind us, erupting across the balcony. A lone fighter passes right over our heads, impossibly low, propeller raging. There and gone again in the space of a petrified breath. Everyone ducks, glasses dropped, shattering.
Everyone not in Safire uniform, at least.
The General sips his drink. “That’s a low pass,” he says to me, as if we’re sharing a private joke.
I clutch the railing with white knuckles. “I thought for sure it was a low crash!”
He laughs. “Rattles your bones, doesn’t it?”
“Stars in heaven, General!” Mother exclaims nearby, hand over her heart. “I hope that’s a punishable stunt.”
“I believe it was in honour of the Princess,” he says. “If she objects, then yes, it might be punishable.” He looks down at me. “What do you think?”
I glance at the retreating plane, its flank empty, and recognition dawns. “That was Lieutenant Erelis, wasn’t it?”
“I hope so,” the General replies. “The older pilots wouldn’t bother with such a stunt.”
“No, I loved it. I’ll never forget it! Can he do it again?”
“Stars, once was enough,” Reni says nearby. He looks pale, as do Jerig, Marcin, and Violet.
The Commander raises his drink in my direction. “I’ll remember your pilot’s name now. The one who terrorized an entire balcony of royalty. That might deserve a medal!” He laughs again, that good-natured laughter, elbowing Reni in the arm.
My brother smiles reluctantly.
The aeroplanes perform a few more figures in the sky, then land, lining up proudly to rousing applause.
“Would you like to see one up close?” the General asks me. “That’s Captain Nevern in the third plane. Leader of our first squadron, Greydawn. He’d be happy to show you.”
I spot the older pilot, stepping out of his cockpit. “Yes, of course. I’ve so many questions for him,” I lie. Before the General can suspect my deception, I hurry down the steps, past the courtiers, and onto the tarmac. Smoke lingers in the air. Pilots hop from their planes, speaking with ground crew, and I offer a brief stop at Captain Nevern. “Very nice show,” I say, “and thank you.”
He bows from the neck. “Of course, Your Highness.” He looks about to add more, but I march on, winding through the planes, ignoring the surprised stares of the pilots I don’t know. My heart begins to pound quicker. I wish more than anything there weren’t a hundred eyes watching, no rules to follow or manners to remember. Then I round the nose of a plane and they’re in front of me.
Athan Erelis and Cyar Hajari.
No longer a memory but real, both leaning against Athan’s plane. They’re a splendid match. The same height. Funny I should notice this now, but it seems very perfect.
“So you weren’t lying,” I announce, and they straighten quickly. “You really are pilots.”
“We tried to be modest about it,” Cyar replies cheerfully, “since not everyone has this sort of talent.”
Athan holds up a rag. “I was even blindfolded.” His face, golden from the sun, splits with a grin that’s more infectious than I remember.
Oh stars, I want only to throw my arms round him! Why must I feel this nervous now that he’s three feet away? An army of butterflies has me light-headed and flushed, entirely undone. I turn and study the plane, covering my nerves with curiosity. “It was an incredible show. I swear my heart stopped more than once.”
“And what was your favourite part?” Athan asks.
I run a hand along the hot wing. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.” Of course he’s hoping I’ll mention his stunt. Surely that’s what he wants. But I’ll keep him guessing awhile yet. “You know, the Commander believes you pilots aren’t very helpful in battle. That’s what he told me. You’ll have to practice some more if you hope to impress him.”
Athan glances to the balcony. He gives a slight roll of the eyes, a bold move for a rookie, but I don’t blame him. “Do you know how difficult it is to impress him? Almost as difficult as impressing you.”
“Oh, I am impressed, Lieutenant. I thought Officer Hajari did a very fine spin on that last lap.”
Cyar bows, and Athan nudges him. “Are you trying to make me look bad, Hajari?”
“Not trying at all, though the Princess is entitled to an opinion.”
“But how could she even tell whose plane it was?”
“That’s a good point.”
“So we’ll say it was mine.”
Cyar salutes. “You’re the higher rank.”
Athan smiles at me. “Thank you for the compliments on my spin, Princess.”
I laugh and continue to circle the plane. “And where do your orders take you next?”
“Hopefully, home,” Athan says. “At least for a bit.”
“I’m sure your family misses you with autumn harvest coming.”
“Harvest?”
“Yes, for the crops. I’ve done a lot of reading this summer for my exam. Water cycles and irrigation and all the things farmers must think about. It’s very fascinating to me. There’s quite a lot of work that goes into it.”
Athan nods. “You’re right. A lot of work.”
“Good thing your family only has cows,” Cyar says. “No crops.”
“Yes, exactly,” Athan agrees. “No harvest for us.”
Two little marks on his plane catch my eye, and I touch them. “What are those?”
“My count,” Athan explains. “How many planes I’ve knocked down so far.”
“You mean shot down?”
He nods, and this blunt admission shadows the mood. Somewhere in this world are graves for two pilots, put there by this boy I desire so terribly. I try to shake myself out of the inevitable thought, for his sake, but it still steals some joy.
He steps near, the closest he’s yet come. “Don’t worry, they both had parachutes. We always hope to see those.”
Relief returns. “I’m glad.”
“Come on, enough about me,” he says. “You’ve been hinting at rumours of an escape for weeks now. Don’t I get to hear about it finally?”
“Perhaps for a price,” I say, taking my own step closer, now that we’re hidden behind the plane. He’s close enough to touch. Smelling of petrol and smoke.
He wrinkles his nose. “Did I mention I’m a poor pilot with a rather meagre monthly wage?”
I reach out to adjust the crooked lapel on his chest. I let my hand linger just a moment, feeling the firmness of his chest, wondering if I might feel the beat of his heart, even. “There are other things I’d accept, Lieutenant,” I say softly, and this time he’s the one who looks undone.
ATHAN
Being with Ali again is as exhilarating as flight.
I’m wearing a uniform smudged with oil and engine grease, sleeves rolled to my elbows, but she notices none of it. She doesn’t care, breeze tugging the curves of her perfectly pressed dress. She’s different and the same and new all at once.
Cautious and inviting.
I don’t understand it. I love that I don’t understand it.
Out on the tarmac, it feels safe together, our own little world. We’re far from the dark horizon—Sinora, the Prince, Father, Arrin. But every time I start to get distracted by them, by the storm I know is brewing, she turns on me with those beautiful eyes, asking another question about Thurn or my plane, and I keep saying things that seem satisfying enough she won’t push further. Eventually, though, I slip up. I make a joke about saving Cyar’s life and realize the misstep immediately.