Chapter 11

Eleven

Standing next to her bunk, Pip tied back the upper part of her long wavy curls, leaving the rest down. For once, she wore a nice set of trousers and shirt in the elven style, though the cut of the shirt was more fitted in a human style.

While the shutters on the lower halves of the windows were kept permanently closed to give the women in this barracks privacy, morning sunlight poured through the upper half. The miniature train that Mak had carved for Pip rested on the top of the shutters of the window next to her bunk, casting a train-shaped shadow on the floor. The sight sent a stab of homesickness through her, and she worked to swallow it down.

While the Escarlish Army didn't allow women—yet—both the elven and troll armies did. In the past seventy years, all Escarlish Army bases had been forced to accommodate visiting female elf and troll warriors for war games. Once the accommodations were made, Escarland had begun employing more and more female civilians on the bases for various roles. It was likely a matter of time before certain branches—like the Flying Corps—opened to Escarlish women. The coming war might even make Escarland desperate enough to lift that restriction.

Currently, this bunk room held several secretaries, a few nurses, two telephone operators, and Pip, the only female mechanic.

Pip checked that her hair had been sufficiently tamed as best as she could by feel. "Are you sure there will be enough room for me?"

"Oh, yes, the more the merrier!" One of the nurses leaned closer to the one mirror the group of them had scrounged up as she applied bright red lipstick. "That unit of flyboys got a pass today too, so Todd requisitioned a truck. It might be tight in the back, but we'll fit all of us."

"I don't mind snuggling up with a few of those flyboys." Chelsea, one of the other nurses, fluttered her lashes in an exaggerated manner.

"As long as they take the time to clean up." The final nurse in the group gave a shudder. "One of them had to stop by the hospital for a pulled muscle after a ruck march the other day, and, ugh, he was gross."

"Must not have been one of the elves." One of the secretaries stepped closer to the mirror, straightening her neat shirtwaist and skirt. "Everyone knows elves even sweat pretty."

Pip clamped her mouth shut and didn't mention that she'd met one of those elves—half elves, actually—the other day. These girls would be sure to go into a peal of giggles if they realized one of those elves was a prince.

Not that Pip blamed them. She had totally gone into hero-worship breathiness over Fieran's dacha right in front of him. That had been embarrassing. What a way to make an impression.

Pip nudged the nurse out of the way long enough so she could peek at herself in the mirror. Her hair was actually behaving today, lying in gentle waves just past her shoulders.

Then she returned to her bunk, grabbed her bag, and looped the strap over her head so that it crossed her body and rested at her side. It weighed heavier than most would expect, considering it had a wrench tucked in there. It was always best to be prepared, whether to fix a truck or bash a too handsy guy over the head.

Pip, the three nurses, and the two secretaries made their way from their barracks, across the main square of Fort Linder, and found the truck parked to one side of the drive, pointed toward the distant smudge that was Bridgetown.

As she and the other girls approached, Fieran and a whole bunch of other young men wearing uniforms that were nicer than the fatigues they normally wore approached the truck from the other side.

Fieran met her gaze, and his resting smile brightened into something wider, sparkling in his eyes.

Ugh. Did her heart have to give that little flutter at seeing him? She didn't even know Fieran beyond that one conversation. He just happened to be the son of her childhood hero. And the kind of guy she had a physical attraction for, in general.

Though, why her flutters weren't as strong for the second elf—or half-elf, most likely, considering he'd joined the Escarlish Army—with short-cropped chestnut hair that walked at Fieran's side, she couldn't say. Perhaps she just needed to talk with that half-elf, and she'd find herself infatuated with him as well.

A rather handsome human man bowed to Pip's companions and held out a hand, waggling an eyebrow in a suggestive way. "Would you like a hand up into the truck, ladies?"

Chelsea, the most flirtatious of the nurses, flicked her hand at him. "Yes, but not from you." She turned to one of the other young men standing by. "You'll help me up, won't you?"

The young man stammered something, then finally held out his hand. The nurse winked at him, then used his hand to steady herself as she stepped up into the truck.

The nurse dating Todd rolled her eyes and rounded the truck, presumably to join her boyfriend in the square, enclosed cab.

Fieran held out his hand to Pip. "Would you like a hand up?"

She eyed his hand, then the back of the truck. The metal step below the bed was so high up that she'd have to lift her knee to her nose to reach it. The other ladies were barely managing it, even with their over half a foot height on her.

It would have been easier if Fieran had left her to get into the truck by herself. She would have boosted herself up with her palms, gotten a knee up, then scrambled inside. It wouldn't have been dignified, but it would have been more graceful than what she'd have to do to take his hand.

Fieran cocked his head, his smile tilting. Then he dropped onto one knee, still holding out a hand near the height of his head. "Perhaps a step would be more helpful than a hand up?"

Pip cocked her head, rolling her eyes. "I suppose. If you insist. You know I could have gotten up there by myself."

"I know." Fieran's grin widened with a hint of mischief. "I've seen how you manage to reach aeroplane engines."

She placed her hand in his, and his long fingers closed over hers in a firm grip keeping her steady as she planted a foot on the top of his leg. She stepped up, grabbed one of the metal bars that held the green canvas top, and pulled herself the rest of the way up and onto the truck's bed.

She walked to the front of the truck bed and took a seat on the bench next to one of the secretaries.

The rest of the girls climbed in, then the young men piled inside, crowding the benches. By the time Fieran and the other half-elf gracefully hopped inside, there was no more room on the benches, and five other men, including a man who was at least part troll, were already standing in the center, glancing around like they weren't sure what to do.

Chelsea popped to her feet, then plunked herself down on the lap of the nearest flyboy. "Now there's another seat."

The flyboy grinned, then settled his hands on her waist. Though he did, at least, keep his hands at a respectful spot that wasn't too high or too low.

"Any of you ladies are welcome to sit on my lap." That rather handsome young man patted his knees, winking at the nurse next to Pip.

The nurse regarded him for a moment, then grimaced. "No, I think I'll stay where I am, thanks." She turned to Fieran, her mouth pursing. "Though if you want a seat, I wouldn't object to sitting on your lap."

The tips of Fieran's ears turned nearly as bright red as his hair. "Uh, no, I'll leave the seats for the ladies. I don't mind standing."

The other half-elf nodded, his ears, too, turning pink.

"Aw, come on!" The rather handsome man flopped against the half-wall of the side of the truck, his head resting against the canvas side. "Why does Fieran always get all the ladies? It's because he's an elf, isn't it? Or because he's—"

A beanpole young man with muddy brown hair punched the handsome man's arm. "It's because Fieran's respectful, that's why. My mama always said that girls like that."

"Yes, we do." The nurse next to Pip popped to her feet, then sat on the beanpole man's lap. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

He flushed, holding his hands out as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. "Miss, I, uh…no, I reckon not."

"Good." She grinned and rested a hand on his shoulder to keep herself steady.

After a bit more shuffling, one more of the young men found a seat by squishing in. But that still left one human young man, the troll with bulging arms who would have taken up two spots on the bench if he'd sat down, and the two half elves still standing.

The window separating the cab from the back slid open and a young man in a green army uniform swiveled in his seat. "Everyone all set back there?"

"Yep!" several of them chorused all at once.

The truck lurched forward, and Pip was nearly crushed between the secretary on one side and the nurse squished on her other side.

The human young man still standing nearly toppled over and had to catch himself on the shoulder of another man, earning him a shove. The half-troll planted himself like he was a boulder refusing to move, though he did reach up and grab the bar that arched over their heads to hold the canvas.

Fieran lurched slightly, then swayed with the movement, as did the half-elf beside him. Both of them grabbed the bar as well, though they didn't seem to need it.

As the truck rumbled down the road, heading for Bridgetown, Fieran gestured from Pip to the half-elf standing next to him. "Pip, this is my best friend Merrik. We grew up together. Merrik, this is Pip. She's that mechanic I met the other day."

The half-elf, Merrik, nodded to her, though he didn't speak, his gaze dipping to the floor.

Ah, he must be the shy friend. She got the feeling Fieran was rather used to being the spokesman for both of them.

"Nice to meet you, Merrik." Pip stuck out a hand to shake. Merrik stared at her hand for a moment before he took it and shook.

"This is Donkyn, but everyone calls him Tiny." Fieran gestured to the troll.

Tiny nodded to her, then spoke in a voice that was both a little rough and surprisingly high pitched, given his breadth. He used the trolls' dialect of elvish. "Elontir, Pip."

"Elontiri, Donkyn." She responded in elvish, glad for the excuse for the smoother words to roll off her tongue. She could speak Escarlish just fine, but there was just something about elvish.

Grinning, Fieran pointed at the beanpole young man. "That's Elijah, but he goes by Lije."

Lije waved, though he glanced from her to the nurse sitting on his lap as if he still wasn't sure what to do with his hand once he was done waving.

"The flirtatious one over there is Pretty Face." Fieran indicated the all-too-handsome young man.

Pretty Face grinned and winked at her.

"And this here is Stickyfingers." Fieran nudged the one young man who had been left standing. The young man was only about half a foot taller than her, which made him on the shorter side compared to the other young men. "Stickyfingers is harmless, but don't let him get too close to your valuables."

Stickyfingers gave her a smile, which showed off his slightly brown and crooked teeth. But the smile itself was genuine. "I don't pickpocket friends."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is." Lije grimaced, side-eyeing Sticky around the nurse sitting on his lap.

The other young men, nurses, and secretaries took to introducing themselves and each other, and that took most of the drive to Bridgetown.

By the time they rumbled across the stone-paved streets of Bridgetown, those in the truck had started to form groups with various plans for touring the city.

Todd pulled the truck into one of the parking spots along a side street. He opened the window again. "Listen up. I need to have this truck back by 19:00. So if you aren't back here by 18:00, you're going to be left behind in Bridgetown. Got it?"

With a few murmurs and sarcastic replies, everyone piled out of the truck.

As the others drifted off, Pip glanced between the groups of others and where Fieran gathered with Merrick, Lije, Tiny, Stickyfingers, and Pretty Face. Should she stick with one of the groups that had some of the other nurses and secretaries? She had gotten to know the other girls, but she wouldn't call herself friends with them yet. She stood out, as the only non-human and the only mechanic.

But she couldn't exactly call Fieran a friend either. Did she really want to be the only girl in a group of guys?

Probably, as long as that handsome one, Pretty Face, didn't get too annoying. Nor Stickyfingers make a try for her money. Then again, if they did, that was what her head-bashing wrench was for.

Fieran gestured to her, flashing that genuine, friendly smile. "Pip, are you coming?"

With one last glance at the group where Chelsea had looped her arms with those of two of the flyboys, Pip hurried to join Fieran. "Where are we going?"

"We were just deciding that." Fieran waved as he spoke, including the full group. "Any place in Bridgetown you've always wanted to see?"

"The Outpost Museum." The words popped out before she'd even thought them through.

Fieran stiffened, the smile dropping from his face. Merrik gave a soft snort, turning slightly away.

"Yes, I've always wanted to see that museum!" Lije's eyes widened.

"A museum?" Pretty Face's lip curled. "We're on leave for the first time, and we're going to spend our day in a museum?"

"Maybe girls would like you more if the space in your head behind that pretty face wasn't so empty." Pip raised her eyebrows at Pretty Face. Teasing him came rather naturally, like he was just another one of her fellow mechanics at the western rail terminal or at the hangar.

"Ooh, ouch!" Stickyfingers bumped Pretty Face's shoulder.

"Good one." Lije grinned at Pip, holding out his hand for her to slap, which she did.

Pretty Face stroked his chin, as if contemplating that. "Perhaps you're right. I need to be more than a pretty face. I should practice a few more cerebral pursuits. Be the complete package of looks and intelligence."

"Sure." Pip drew out the word.

Despite his protests about the museum and comments that were somewhat less than appropriate at times, Pretty Face was here with Fieran's group. He could have gone off with one of the clusters of flyboys and nurses. He could have drifted away into Bridgetown by himself to get into whatever mischief he desired.

Instead, he had stayed here with a group that wasn't about to do anything more sketchy than drink too many sodas.

There was a pause. Then Tiny crossed his large muscular arms. "The Outpost is a culturally and historically significant site. For humans, trolls, and elves. The events there began the Alliance."

Fieran shifted, his ears going even more red as he hunched as if hoping the others wouldn't remember him.

But Stickyfingers turned to him, his eyes widening. "Oh, right. They're your parents."

Right. Pip grimaced. She had forgotten that, for a moment. The reason she'd always wanted to go to the Outpost Museum was that it was the location where Prince Farrendel and Princess Elspeth had been married nearly seventy years ago in the wake of the first treaty forming an alliance between the elves of Tarenhiel and the humans of Escarland. That event started the whole cascade of events that eventually led to Kostaria, Tarenhiel, and Escarland becoming the Alliance Kingdoms.

Even now, the Outpost Museum had an exhibit that featured Princess Elspeth's and Prince Farrendel's wedding attire from the second elven wedding they had in Estyra.

But Pip could understand how seeing his parents' wedding immortalized in a museum might be uncomfortable for Fieran.

"We don't have to go, if you don't want to." Pip had to tip her head back to look at Fieran's face. She edged back a few inches so that she didn't have to crane her neck quite so uncomfortably. "I can go a different time."

Fieran sighed, then shook his head. "No, let's go. I'll be fine. It isn't like we won't be tripping over monuments to my family members no matter where we go in Bridgetown."

"I think that might be a statue of your uncle King Rharreth over there." Speaking for the first time, Merrik pointed toward the end of the street, where a statue gazed north toward a row of stone buildings.

"You're not helping." Fieran scowled and crossed his arms.

Pip stifled her laugh, even as she joined the others in peering in the direction of the statue, which did indeed appear to be a stately troll warrior regally gazing toward the north.

Yep, she'd definitely made the right call in joining this group. It was like hanging out with a whole gang of brothers. Not that her attraction to Fieran was sisterly, but she could push that aside to be just a friend to all of them.

"And…" A grin played across Merrik's face, banishing that severe look. "Fort Linder is named after the island where your parents met."

Fieran groaned and rubbed his temple. "The island was where both the first and second alliance treaties were signed. I'm sure that's the reason the fort was named Fort Linder. Not my parents' first meeting."

"Uh-huh. Sure it was. It was not like your uncles General Ardon and King Averett were sitting down figuring out the name for the new fort when the old outpost was closed down." Merrik's grin took on the edge of a smirk. "And we both know how sentimental King Averett is."

Pip glanced between Fieran and Merrik. It was so strange to hear them casually joking about such high-ranking generals and kings. But to them, those kings were people they'd actually met, not just a face on a coin or glimpsed at a distance while peering over a fence in Estyra.

Fieran glanced from her to Stickyfingers, Tiny, Pretty Face, and Lije, who gaped at Fieran with various levels of awe. Fieran scowled. "And now you've reminded everyone of just how annoyingly famous all my relatives are. Guys, I'm still me. I'm not uppity or anything."

"How did you manage to turn out so…not spoiled rotten?" Pip shook herself. It wasn't as if she hadn't known exactly who Fieran was related to the moment he'd said his last name when she first met him.

"Well, he is kind of spoiled." Merrik's smirk grew. "Just not spoiled rotten."

Fieran rolled his eyes, then jabbed a finger at Merrik. "Don't say another word."

Merrik grinned back, then turned toward the main road. "Do we want to see this museum or not?"

Pip hurried to fall into step with Fieran. If they were going to see the Outpost Museum, then she wasn't about to miss out.