really stare hard enough, I could probably make out the bright yellow runway markings.
“Tower, looking for permission to land,” I say into my headset.
There’s a second of silence. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
A crackle informs me that my request has been heard. “This is tower one. Permission granted.”
“Coming in now,” I say into my headset.
I point myself down and find that same state of electric zen-ness as I hurtle toward the ground. The world rushes by, but I barely notice. It’s all just muscle memory at this point.
As I smoothly taxi my little jet down the RAF runway, I feel the surge of adrenaline rushing through my system. As I slide into the loading bay, I unbuckle my helmet and push the button that turns my engine off as it opens the cockpit automatically.
A rush of cool air prickles across my scalp, raising hairs on the back of my neck. I stand up and jump out of the cockpit. When I hit the ground, I look up to find Erik standing there, waiting for me. Erik and I are old friends, going back to the first days of his unofficial adoption into the palace.
I flash him a grin. We are closer probably even than he and Stellan are, but don't tell either of them that.
He is also an officer in the Royal Air Force, although he has since retired. Arching a brow, I stride toward him. He looks me up and down, smirking a little at my jumpsuit.
"So just an average morning for you then?"
I grin at him. "Yup. Hey, I'm just finishing here. Do you want to go grab a drink?"
He looks at his watch, squinting. "It's not five yet."
I clapped him on his shoulder. "It's five somewhere. Come on."
He follows me for a second. "Actually have something to drop off to a friend. Go ahead and change and I'll meet you at the canteen."
I shake my head, continuing through the space and into the men's locker rooms. I shower and change with my usual efficiency, putting on a pair of dark jeans and a dark gray sweater. By the time I head out to the canteen, one of the only places for people to gather and socialize on the base, Erik is sitting at a table already.
He is dressed in a white button up and dark blue trousers, looking for all the world like he belongs on the cover of GQ or something. If I didn't know better, I would think he had gotten quite lost on the way here.
I sit down at the little gray aluminum table, just as Erik is pouring amber beer out of a pitcher into two pint glasses. The Royal Air Force canteen is not exactly known for having a great beer selection on tap. In fact, they only have the shittiest beer and the most bargain-basement labels of hard alcohol.
Given the choice, I think Erik made the right decision.
I raise my pint glass toward him. He clinks his glass against the rim of mine and we both take a long sip. It's cheap and it tastes like water. But hey, a drink’s a drink, I guess.
Erik looks at me, quirking his lips. "So… I hear you are training to be an astronaut."
I look up at him, a frown on my face. "Who told you that?"
He shrugs. "A friendly face here on the base. He told me in confidence, if it makes you feel any better."
I pull a face. "It doesn't really. No one is supposed to know that I'm even training for it. It's all very hush-hush."
"My source says that it's a bit of a long shot. Add in the fact that you, as a member of the royal family, are considered one of the country’s important resources… It puts you pretty solidly in the ‘will not happen’ category."
I roll my eyes. "I've heard that. But I've also asked command if my being second in line to the throne puts me out of the running entirely. And no one has said yet that I won't get the mission just because of who I am. That's pretty much against the code of the Royal Air Force. So I'm just going to keep running for it as long as I can."
Erik sips his beer, watching me over the rim of his pint glass. When he is done, he licks a bit of foam from his lips and continues asking questions. "If you're pretty sure that you're not going to get it, why do