The Island (The Madion War Trilogy #1)

Chapter One, Part III - Theo

Walking into the hanger was like coming home. I'd grown up there, so I knew every nook and cranny of the cavernous room. I paused at a wall adorned with photos and newspaper clippings and pressed two fingers to the Raven symbol in the center in a superstitious show of reverence. It resembled a phoenix (since we considered ourselves reborn from our former colony), with long tail feathers, and giant claws that reached out for our future, so they said. I always thought it a pretty decent depiction of the Raven spirit—small, scrappy, and determined.

Around the Raven symbol, we'd plastered photos of the Kylaen royal family cut out from magazines and newspapers to remind us of who we were fighting against. There was King Greig, balding with black, coifed facial hair. Next to him was his wife Korina, the daughter of one of Kylae's wealthiest families. A beautiful woman with the prized porcelain skin so desired by the Kylaen designers. But she was nothing but a pushover; a woman who'd stood in front of the Kylaen death camp and swore it wasn't as bad as it was.

They had three sons, Rhys, Digory, and Galian, whose pictures were lined up next. I took pleasure in seeing the center boy, Digory, a bulky brute of a man who had been killed in action last year. We'd celebrated for three days when the news came over the radio that Kylae had lost one of her precious princes. Rhys was the next in line to be king, and seemed to be in the same mold as his father and grandfather. We saw him standing behind his father at news conferences and ceremonies, saying nothing as his father continued the tirade against Rave.

And then there was the princeling.

We had several photos of the third son of Kylae, most of which were cut from Kylaen gossip magazines. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that Kylaen pale skin, and smoldering dark eyes, he was every bit the playboy prince. In one photo, he was on the arm of two different girls, and in another, he was vomiting in the streets. For a few years, it seemed a new story would break about his antics almost every week, embarrassing his father and a kingdom in the midst of a bloody war. But we had seen less and less of him—probably thanks to the Kylaen royal family.

Then suddenly, we'd found out he was taking his brother's place in the Kylaen air forces. Now it was only a matter of time before one of us shot him down and claimed our prize. Personally, I hoped it would be me. Perhaps killing the princeling would accelerate my own promotion and hasten my escape from danger.

The hanger was empty of pilots and activity after the morning's patrol, but the mechanics were hard at work, trying to service as many planes as possible. If the Raven military was light on pilots, they were absolutely abysmal on ground crew.

My plane was right where I had left her when I rolled in from my morning air patrol. She was the only friend I had in this whole world, and it was a mutually beneficial relationship. If she didn't fail me, and I didn't fail her, we'd both survive. Five years after my first flight, we were both still kicking. I knew my girl inside and out, knew just how far I could push her before she began to smoke up, knew how to land her and take her off like the back of my hand. Sliding into the cockpit was probably what it was like to be with a man, but since I'd never done that, I could only guess. In any case, it was warm and familiar.

"Hey, Theo!" Lanis called to me from the plane next to mine. He was covered in oil from the plane he was working on, . "Good patrol this morning?"

"Yeah," I said, checking the oil levels on my ship and continuing my routine inspection. "What do you hear on the next mission?"

"Eh," he grunted. "Bayard was on the radio this morning, talking about how we're winning the fight against Kylaen aggression. That Cannon guy is still with him."

I snorted; our president had been reelected four times in the past twelve years, and the president before that had been in power since we first declared independence from Kylae. Bayard was the consummate politician, and had been known to keep war heroes by his side at press conferences. His latest pet project was Mark Cannon, a handsome captain who'd fought off twenty planes on the western front.

"So what do you hear about the mission?" I pressed. The old man had been around; he'd been a pilot himself in his younger days, retiring after his twenty years in the service and coming back as a mechanic. But he retained his connections to the other pilots who'd gone on to become the higher ranking bigwigs in our military. So he always knew the secrets.

"The princeling is about ready to start flying," he said, looking around. At my startled gasp, he added, "Now don't be spreading that around, 'neechai."

"I won't, I won't," I shook my head and smiled. Coming from someone like Lanis, the Raven pet name meant more like little sister. Raven words were funny like that.

But the princeling out in the air? That was good news. "Grieg is really sending his son out even after the other one was killed last year?"

"Yep." Lanis nodded. "Turns out they made an upstanding citizen out of that playboy." He winked at me. "Now don't go losing your head over him like these other girls."

"Me? Please!" But I had to laugh. Galian was not wanting for handsomeness, and he'd managed to steal the hearts of more than one of my fellow female pilots. Somehow they could separate him from his family and his country, something I'd never been able to do.

"You'd better keep an eye on some of your lieutenants." Lanis laughed. "They find out the princeling is up in the sky with you, they'll follow him back to the castle—hoping they can become a princess!"

"Well, then they can follow him down to hell, 'cause if I see him up there, that's where he's going," I said, holding my fingers up to the sky and making a shooting sound. "Down he goes like his brother."

"Just look for the one who can't fly, right?" Lanis laughed and I joined him, the absurdity of the situation so very amusing.

"I'm not looking for anything if my plane doesn't get off the ground," I said, grabbing a wrench. I needed to work quickly. I never knew when the air raid sirens would begin to wail.