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“We’re next in line,” Duncan’s voice came through the speakers again. Less than a minute later, he followed up with “here we go.”

The plane accelerated, racing down the runway. The nose lifted, giving that disorienting feeling of tilting. Keir and I remained silent, my intended mate’s eyes staying closed as the jet climbed farther into the sky.

Duncan’s voice was back. “The weather looks good between here and JFK. We’re going to climb a little higher than typical to avoid some reported turbulence. We’ve got a tailwind with us tonight so the flight shouldn’t take long.” The intercom cut out leaving us with only the hum of the engines as company.

Following Keir’s lead, I leaned back into my chair and allowed my eyes to slip closed. Both of us needed to rest while we could. Who knew how many chances we’d get once we landed in Slovenia.

Duncan was correct and the flight from Minnesota to New York was blissfully uneventful. We also made better time than expected. Our quick landing and refueling took all of thirty-five minutes and we were back in the air and headed across the Atlantic.

We’d also gained another passenger—Jenna. She was Duncan’s granddaughter and a skilled pilot herself. She’d agreed to be Duncan’s co-pilot for the longer leg of the trip. Jenna had taken a moment to greet Keir and me. Her smile was always wide and full of warmth. It was a trait I appreciated. When the sad day came when old age claimed Duncan, I would entreat his granddaughter to take up the reigns.

“She seems nice,” Keir said after returning to his seat, two water bottles in hand along with several packets of Biscoff cookies.

“Jenna?” I asked, and when Keir nodded, I answered, “She is pleasant enough and a capable pilot. I am pleased she agreed to accompany Duncan on the trip.”

Keir handed me one of the bottles and half the cookies before sitting down. Comfortably at cruising altitude, Duncan had given us the okay to move freely around the cabin. “We should discuss proper names for the girls,” Keir said before taking a large bite of a cookie.

“We should,” I answered. “I must confess, I haven’t dedicated much time to the effort. We’ve had too much going on, and Vi and Blu just kind of…”

“Stuck,” Keir rightly answered.

“That’s who the girls are to me now.”

“I know what you mean. We can still call them that, but they should have more formal names,” Keir both agreed and argued.

“That sounds reasonable. Do you have something in mind?”

Keir shifted, parting his lips twice before licking them. Gaze shifting from side to side, he appeared uncomfortable. I was getting ready to ask what was wrong when Keir said, “I’ve got a couple of ideas. Not sure if you’ll like them or⁠—”

“I’m sure we’ll love them. Don’t be so shy, Keir.”

I’m not ashamed to say I jumped. Mimicking my response and going a step further by leaping from his seat, Keir’s eyes widened and his lips slipped open again, this time from a shock I shared.

“Jima! Wh-what are you… I mean, why are you here and how did you get here?” Keir asked, tone demanding a response.

Jima plopped down in a nearby seat, reaching over and snatching Keir’s bottle of water. “You gonna drink this?” Jima asked. Not waiting for a response, he unscrewed the cap and downed half the contents. “Goddess, it was hot in that suitcase.” Jima waved a hand in front of his flushed face. His sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead. “Seriously, you’d think they’d place some airholes in there or something.”

Keir’s mouth slammed shut. I’d rarely seen him angry before, especially with his core group of Magical Usage Council survivors. Looked like that streak was about to end. “That’s because suitcases aren’t meant for living beings to travel in. Now, I’ll ask again, what in the hell are you doing here?”

Jima took another drink, nearly draining the bottle. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Jima gave Keir an unrepentant grin. “Helping.”

“Helping?” Keir vehemently shook his head. “We decided you’d stay at home.”

“No. You decided,” Jima answered, tone much sterner. Pointing an accusing finger Keir’s direction, Jima stated, “I agreed to no such thing.”

Keir’s frustration mounted. “We’re turning this plane around right now. I will not place you in harm’s way.” Turning from Jima, Keir looked at me and demanded, “Tell Duncan we’re going back.”

“Don’t you dare.” Jima hopped up from his seat. The crown of his head barely reaching the top of Keir’s chest. “I did not sweat my ass off in that damn suitcase until this plane was over the Atlantic Ocean to go back.” Jabbing a finger into Keir’s chest, Jima stubbornly went on. “You need help, Keir, whether you admit it or not. And I’ve been on dangerous missions before. Why is this any different? I might be smaller than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak and I’m not afraid.”

It was fascinating observing the ire drain from Keir. “I have never once thought that.”

“No?” Jima leaned back into his heels, arms crossed. “Could have fooled me. Are you telling me there hasn’t been one case come across your desk that I wouldn’t have been perfect for in the last couple of months?”

“It’s not what you think,” Keir protested.

“Then tell me what I should think because from where I’m sitting, you’re treating me like some kind of porcelain doll ready to fall off the shelf and shatter at any minute.”

“I…” Keir ran a frustrated hand through his hair, disheveling it further. “You’re not the fragile one, Jima. I am.” Out of steam, Keir sat back down, slumping into the seat. I wanted to go to him, but this was between him and Jima and had most likely been a long time coming.