Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) (21 page)

The Toad wasn’t far from her house, but Aris decided to take her wingjet anyway. Milek climbed slowly into the cabin, his brow furrowed with the effort. Aris ran through start-up, reveling in the simplicity of the nonmilitary nav panel.

“Are you excited to be back?” Milek asked, as he settled into his seat.

She strapped herself in, incapable of withstanding the huge grin that wanted to spread across her face. “I’m excited about
this
,” she said, and then she pulled up on the controls, and they went soaring.

Like a silver arrow, she shot out over the ocean, caught between the roll of deep cobalt and the lighter blue of the sky. She climbed, higher and higher, flirting with a bank of puffy white clouds before tipping backward to free-fall. She pulled out of the dive and skimmed just above the water, egged on by Milek’s delighted laugh.

Now, because of Military, her flying meant something. But that didn’t take away the sheer joy of dipping and flipping and spinning without the bark of enemy fire at her tail. Today, it was enough to dance along familiar cliffs, tip her wings to the history she shared with this place, the past that had shaped her and driven her to who she’d become.

At last, when she had shivered the ache to fly out of her bones, she slowed and headed toward The Toad. Milek placed his hand over hers. “Aris,” he said, “truly, you take my breath away.”

Even as they landed, her heart soared.

Before Aris could open the glass shield, Milek threaded his hands through her hair and drew her close and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a revelation, removed from the desperate longing and worry of their stolen moments at Mekia. Aris smoothed her hands over his shoulders, melting into him, and suddenly her very first dream of Milek returned to her, and she pressed closer, suddenly quite enthusiastic about reenacting that particular fantasy.

“We should probably go in,” Milek breathed against her lips.

She kissed him harder, then broke away with a little groan. “A week alone. That’s all I ask.”

He leaned forward to kiss her nose. “Lucky for you, we’re on vacation. We can make that happen.”

With that lovely promise, they finally climbed out of the wingjet.

Once inside The Toad, the scene so surreal, Aris hardly knew what to do with herself. Winding through the darkness, through the pumping music and spicy bakka smoke, were her friends, both old and new: Phae, regal in a red tunic and flowing pants, hand in hand with Rakk, whose scarred face couldn’t dim his happy smile; Echo, in sparkling silver, a tray of frothy drinks in her hands; and Calix, his arm entwined with Dysis’s. They were all amazingly, impossibly, here.

She leaned a little closer into Milek’s side. His face and body still bore the vestiges of his torture, but he was here, too.
Alive.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.

He grinned, his scar now joined by a new one over his brow, and a scabbed nick on his chin. “It’s midafternoon. How crazy can it get?”

Aris shook her head and said, “You’ll see,” just as the wave of excited voices reached her.

“Oh gods, I can’t believe you’re
here
, Aris! I was absolutely wrecked at your burning, and then we heard you
weren’t
dead, and it was all anyone could talk about!” Echo buried them both in her mass of lavender-scented hair. “Oh, and who are
you?
” she added, glancing appreciatively at Milek.

He was pretty beat up, but somehow that made his clear blue eyes and square-jawed face even more attractive. Aris wasn’t surprised at her friend’s reaction.

“This is Milek,” she said. “Where’s . . . your man?” Aris asked, hoping Echo didn’t realize she couldn’t remember his name.

Echo waved an airy hand. “Oh, I’m over him. I’m concentrating on my art right now.” Which meant she was back to exploring her options. Aris couldn’t help grinning.

Phae and Rakk slipped into the booth beside Milek and made their introductions. Phae slid her hand across the polished wood table to squeeze Aris’s. “Don’t die on us again, will you?”

Aris tightened her hand on Phae’s. “No plans anytime soon. It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” she said, her dark eyes glowing.

When Calix and Dysis joined them, the whole table erupted into breathless chatter, as Dysis told the story of how Calix had cut the head of the snake that bit Daakon, making him sound every bit the hero he was. This time, no one seemed to mind talking about the war. Even Phae listened to the stories without worriedly glancing at Rakk or trying to change the subject.

Underneath the table, Aris squeezed Milek’s hand. They did have a lot of stories.

But no one told the tragedies today.

Later, when Echo went back to serving drinks and flirting with the men smoking bakka, and Phae, Rakk, Calix, and Dysis danced to the deep, pulsating music The Toad was known for, Aris sat back and shot Milek a look.

“How you doing?” she asked, noting the furrow between his brows. “Thinking deep thoughts over there?”

He smiled and kissed her, warm and soft. “I was thinking about our future.”

“Still want to settle down in a village like this, with a bunch of kids and a peaceful job as a town protector?” She trailed her lips along his cheek and gently nipped his ear.

“Is that what
you
want?” His voice rumbled against her neck.

“Maybe someday.” Kori and his mother and sister lingered in her mind. Kori had held his family so tightly, with a look in his eyes that said he’d been given a gift he’d never ever believed he’d receive.

For the first time, Aris could see her future with Milek. With the war over, the dark, impenetrable wall had crumbled. “But first, I want to go back to Safara. I want to help rebuild the dominion.”

She could feel his smile against her shoulder. Then he raised his head, and she could see the joy in his eyes as well. “That’s what I want, too. We worked so hard to win this war . . .”

“We can’t stop fighting now,” she agreed.

Milek pulled her closer, his lips claiming hers in the kind of kiss meant for the heavy, fragrant air of The Toad.

“Do you want to dance?” she asked at last, when they broke apart to catch their breaths.

Milek shook his head. “I could use some fresh air, though.”

As they stood, Aris caught a glimpse of Calix and Dysis dancing, their bodies perfectly in sync. And for a few moments, as she and Milek wove through the maze of tables and shadowy figures to the door, Aris imagined she felt the presence of all those they’d lost: Galec, Baksen, Alistar, Daakon, even Pallas. They were all there, still with her, still watching over all of them.

With a spark of something that felt like hope, she reached for Milek’s hand. When his fingers curled around hers, the touch both a comfort and a promise, she smiled and led him into the sunlight.

There are so many people who helped make this book, and the whole series, a reality. I am so incredibly grateful for their time, support, wisdom, faith, and especially chocolate.

Lanie Davis and Eliza Swift, you guys are masters of the compliment sandwich. I’m so grateful for your patented combo of honest, insightful critique and morale-boosting compliments. This series would have been a sad shadow of itself without you. Thank you for taking a chance on me, and on Aris.

To the rest of the team at Alloy Entertainment—Les Morgenstein, Josh Bank, Heather David, Romy Golan, and Elaine Damasco—thank you for making the Rebel Wing series shine. I can’t imagine a better home for it than Alloy. To Caroline Carr at Amazon, thank you for believing in this series and giving it so many opportunities to find readers.

To Rachel L. Hamm, Jax Abbey, J.D. Robinson, and Paige Elizabeth Nguyen: I’d like to raise a hundred flaming scorpions to you. When you move as often as I do, it’s tough to meet people, let alone make friends. And somehow, in Durham, I found four kindred spirits. Though we live far away now, I will never forget how amazing it was to be able to chill with all of you IN THE SAME ROOM and talk about writing. Don’t worry. I’ll be visiting often!

Aimee L. Salter, from talking me down to brainstorming new ideas, you always have my back. Big virtual hugs. I’m so thrilled that Alloy brought us together.

It seems that with every passing year and every new book, my writing family grows larger and more awesome. Shari Arnold, Jennifer Walkup, Susanne Winnacker, Ali Cross, Autumn Kalquist, Heather Hildenbrand, Morgan Michael, the Critters, S3G, Indelibles, YA Binders, etc—I’m so honored to walk this winding path with you.

Jody Escaravage: your faith in me makes me feel like a rock star. I couldn’t ask for more from a best friend. Thank you.

To my family, thank you for your incredible support over the past six months. I literally could not have finished this book without the grandparent time for Ollie, the place to live, the help with moving, and the encouragement. Honestly, I can’t believe I actually DID finish it, all things considered. It’s been a pretty crazy ride this year, and you made it a whole lot smoother.

Andy, you always believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.

To all the brave women and men who are serving or who have served in the Armed Forces, you have my utmost gratitude and respect.

Lastly, to my readers, especially those who’ve been around since the days of
Shattered Veil
: THANK YOU. The fact that you are out there, actually reading my books, taking the time to tell your friends how much you love them—I mean, that’s been my fantasy since I was five. You lovely people truly are my dream come true.

Award-winning author, Army wife, and mom, Tracy Banghart has an MA in publishing and an unhealthy affection for cupcakes. Her quiet childhood led to a reading addiction, writing obsession, and several serious book boyfriends.
Torn Sky
is her fifth novel. Follow @tracythewriter on Twitter or visit her at www.tracybanghart.com.