A Court of Light and Shadow

Chapter 9

THE HEIRESS

"Be bold, my light." She whispered ever so softly, "Be brave. Like no one has ever been before."

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Months had passed, nearly half a year.

Training with Azriel never seized. Only when Rhysand needed him elsewhere for his usual spy-work.

He taught me how to fly. My lessons with Cassian were mixed in. Creating strength, balance. Becoming worthy.

Finding a friend in him had been the last thing I had expected, but I did.

He taught me how to protect myself, my wings.

The Valkyries taught me everything else.

Within months, I found my balance.

I found myself.

Cassian gave me a sword four months into training.

Everything came together from there. True balance was put to the test, both mental and physical.

Nesta and I became closer with time.

Emerie taught me to take care of my wings, for she was the only person I trusted enough to touch mine.

Now here I stand. On the rooftop of the House of Wind, watching the sun set beyond the horizon. Six months. Six months of training brought me here.

Watching the stars appear, one by one. More and more.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Millions.

The skies become dark.

I turn to find the moon staring back at me. So bright, so beautiful.

I smile at it.

Home.

I untuck my wings, I let them spread behind me. Stretching them, to feel the relief seep off my skin. The neglect they had been put through has come to an end at last.

For I am Illyrian.

And Illyrians fly.

I step back, my heel hovering over the edge.

"Home." I whisper.

And I fall.

The power of the moon seeps into my very bones. The feeling of light. Eternal moonshine flowing through my blood as my wings catch the air at last. And I fly.

I fly high above the City of Starlight. The place I now call home. The place that has taught me to see again.

Velaris.

I reach for the sky. For the stars.

I let my wings stretch, I let them be free at last. And I feel it. All of it.

The raw power rumbling in my chest, as the very last rays of sunlight left my skin.

The moonlight kissing it instead. Touching me, feeling me. And I feel it.

Amaya Maurelle will be reborn.

If I hadn't already pinched myself at least twenty times by the time I reached the Steppes, I would've thought it was a dream. It felt so surreal. I almost didn't believe I could finally touch the skies, just like any other Illyrian.

My feet touched the snow, crunching underneath the boots I wore. I tucked my wings in tight, keeping them safe from the biting cold of the winter engulfed Illyrian Steppes.