A Court of Light and Fire

Chapter 8

POV: Alina

Flying was always Alina's favorite. It didn't matter where or when; a few minutes of soaring and cutting through the clouds could shed away even the most stubborn of downcast moods. Adrift in the open expanse of stars and wind and golden sunbeams, her loneliness and grief felt small and insignificant. Loneliness, for in all the world there was no one else like her. Grief, for the loss of her parents and the life she could have had with them – a life full of love, and certainty, and understanding of who she was and where she came from. The grief never truly went away, and after 500 years of enduring it and welcoming it back into her head when her heart grew heavy, Alina knew it never would. But she also knew that she could find ways to live with it. In those silent midnight moments, when she'd fly far above the world and felt so close to the stars she thought she could reach out and touch them, she'd find peace knowing that even after the darkest nights, a new day was always coming.

Alina and Azriel flew in comfortable silence for a while, taking in the jagged, snowcapped mountains and the pines that spotted beneath. The weather was much milder today; still an early spring chill, but even from way up here, the wind had much less of a bite than usual. She let Azriel set their pace and enjoyed the surprising feeling of flying alongside someone else. Her focus was settled on the sprawling mountains below when Azriel spoke up.

"So you've been to Velaris before?"

"A couple times." A small lie. "After the war ended and the city was opened up, I started visiting from time to time. The views on the flight over are nice and the shops sell lots of things you can't find in the Illyrian mountains." Another lie. She'd been sneaking into Velaris for centuries, long before the city was ever unveiled to the world. As much as she disliked the dishonesty, there was still too much about her that he didn't know. May not even want to know. She swallowed her guilt.

"Any favorites?"

"A book shop or two. Some dress shops, though I hardly ever had enough money to spend on something like a dress. Or anywhere to wear one."

Azriel looked her up and down brazenly, a smirk forming on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just trying to picture you in a dress."

"Believe it or not, I don't wear Illyrian flying leathers 24/7."

"Oh I remember," Azriel taunted. For a heartbeat, she was back on that countertop, with her shirt hiked up around her waist and his hand between her thighs. Despite the cold wind, warmth flooded her cheeks and down her neck. She looked to Azriel, trying her best to give him a glare that was intimidating. She must have failed miserably because his face lit up at her reaction, a soft laugh sounding that was carried away on the breeze. That was the same laugh she'd heard on the cobblestonestreets of Velaris those months ago, when she'd accidentally almost wanderedright up to him. The sound of it now was much more breathtaking than sheremembered.

"How long have you lived in the Night Court?" Alina had known these questions would come. She'd prepared for them.

"A while." The look he gave her suggested he wanted a better answer than that. She couldn't help but roll her eyes and give in. "Almost two hundred years."

A beat of silence. "And you've lived alone the whole time?"

"Are you asking me if I have a boyfriend?" That earned a soft chuckle. His only response was to keep watching her.

"Yes. Alone the whole time."

"Do you have any family?"

"Not anymore." She couldn't hide the sadness from her eyes, her voice. She would have been embarrassed, had she not looked to Azriel and seen the understanding in his tan face. He stayed silent, letting her decide how much of her story she wanted to give. She knew that if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't push it. A pattern she noticed from their encounter at her house – he wanted her to feel comfortable, to know she had control in the situation. For that, she was silently thankful.