Aphen shrugged. “He shouldn’t be doing this because he thinks he loves me!” She sounded indignant, even to herself, as if this whole effort on Cymrian’s part were some sort of personal affront. She shook her head in dismay and held up her hand in a warding gesture. “I didn’t mean that. That was wrong.”
“Yes, but you said it to me and you probably would have said it to him.” Arling was scolding her now, something she almost never did. “Don’t. Keep this to yourself. If you don’t want to love him back, fine. But don’t diminish his sacrifice for us by telling him he shouldn’t have made it. You don’t know what he’s been through, and you shouldn’t assume that what he’s done is a mistake.”
Aphen stared at her and then smiled. “You are such a fierce little bird, Arling Elessedil.”
But Arling didn’t smile back. “Maybe it’s because I’m being forced to grow up all at once, and I can’t afford to be timid.”
Aphen let the smile drop. “All right. I’ll do what you ask. It bothers me, but I won’t let what I know get in the way of things. I promise.”
Her sister nodded and put a grateful hand on her shoulder. Aphen turned back to the task of steering the airship and searching the shifting haze, mulling over what she had been told, trying it on for size the way she would a new set of boots.
What she found was that she wasn’t at all sure about the fit.
Stoon stood watch on the forward deck of the Federation warship, growing increasingly worried as he stared out at the mist breaking up beyond their cliffside hiding place.
Once it had become clear they had lost the Elven ship in the storm, he had ordered the captain to turn their own vessel south and make for calmer air and better weather. He had considered for perhaps ten seconds turning back and searching for their quarry, but then quickly abandoned the idea as foolish. They would never find anyone in the morass of wind-driven rain and fog assailing them. Better to give it up until the weather improved.
So he had taken a calculated risk. The Elven ship had left Arborlon by way of the Valley of Rhenn and turned south. It was a better-than-even bet that their destination lay in that direction, probably much farther away than closer. Given the supplies they had stocked aboard and the size of the airship, he could assume they were anticipating at least several days’ travel there and several more back. He could also assume they would resume their previous course on their way down, and if he didn’t get too far south himself, they would cross paths again.
By morning, his ship had escaped the storm and gotten down into the stretch of Westland forest known as Drey Wood. Here, still north of the Matted Brakes and the Pykon, they had found another hiding place for their ship, this time edging far enough back into the trees that there was almost no chance they could be seen. Once in place, Stoon had dispatched a pair of flits with orders to place themselves at strategic points where they would have a clear view of the plains and any airships passing south. With the storm dissipated and the mist breaking up, they should have no trouble finding the one they were searching for. Once they did, they were to slip away and arrive back at the warship quickly enough for her crew to mobilize and intercept their quarry.