“Something’s wrong.” I fret, looking back and forth between Henry and Isabel, eager for their perspectives.
“They probably just got caught in a headwind.” Henry answers, squeezing my hand. “Flight timetables are an estimate, not an exact science.”
I gnaw nervously on my lower lip, focusing on Isabel. Surely she’ll support me, I think, with James away as well. “They did radio when they departed the coast.” She reminds me, the traitor! “We have no reason to think anything has gone awry.”
My wolf grumbles mutinously in my head, and I’m already wracking my brains for some way to go after my missing mate. There aren’t any planes left here in the capital – at least, not any that belong to the King. “Do many Vanaran citizens own private planes?” I ask curiously, trying to keep my voice innocen
