Flames of Cobalt and Crimson

Red

Azriel

It was that same, accursed dream again; the one I've had almost every night for over five hundred years. So real that it felt like I had truly been there, indistinguishable from my memories. The dream that I'd had for the first time when...

I pushed that down deep and rolled, groaning, from my bed. The stone tiles were cold beneath my bare feet, still chilled this early in the morning despite the warmer spring afternoons, and I reminded myself for the hundredth time to buy a rug. The small fire I had banked last night to warm the room had smoldered down to almost nothing, and the warmth had dissipated. Padding over to the washbasin, I began my morning routine and mentally catalogued my tasks for the day. I poured chill water from the ewer into the basin and washed my face, hands, and neck, a few of the droplets dripping down to land on my bare chest. Dipping my hands again, I ran them through my hair to help lay it back down and quickly ran my comb through it. It wasn't much of an effort; I'd be flying in a few minutes so anything more would've been pointless.

After washing, I selected an undershirt and some comfortable light armor from my rather sparse wardrobe and began pulling the garments on. The bleached linen shirt was almost thin enough to see through as I looked at my reflection, but the leathers would keep me warm until the afternoon spring heat took hold, and then I would be glad of the thinner layer underneath. All my armor was a uniform black leather with overlapping plates and these were no exception, though they were a little older and more supple from wear. I pulled them on, deftly twisting my arms behind me to secure the flaps around my wings with practiced motions. The sleeves flowed over the backs of my hands to hold my siphons and I secured the loop at the end of each around my middle fingers.

Stomping my feet into my boots, I replayed the list again in my mind. Meet with the spies in the Palace of Bone and Salt. Pick up the fancy lily bulbs that Elain had special-ordered from the florist and drop them off. Winnow to one or two of the Illyiran camps and do inspections just to keep them on their toes. Family dinner this evening at the townhouse.

I went over each task in more and more detail as I finished dressing, my shadows whispering to me, and finally turned to walk to the balcony. Pulling the heavy door open, I moved to my customary place at the stone railing and took a moment to enjoy the view of Velaris sprawled before me, far below. The city lay in the shadow of the red, flat-topped mountains atop which the House of Wind and I currently stood. The Sidra looked paler and colder than usual in the diffuse morning light, and there was a bit less twinkle to the Rainbow, but I found beauty in the early morning stillness; the pale, washed-out colors edged by deeper shadows not yet chased away by the full light of day.

There had been many mornings during Amarantha's reign that I had been sick of this view, sick of being trapped in Velaris, unable to do anything. Forty-nine years I had awoken in this room, or in the town house, and I had eventually come to resent the peaceful city, though never its citizens. Centuries of tenuous peace and an added half-century of anxious monotony had thoroughly removed my gratitude for this beautiful place. But coming home after a war that very nearly killed everyone you love has a way of changing things.

I drank in the view now, as I've done every morning since we returned, and took the quiet moment to stretch my wings and roll my neck. The sun was creeping higher and I could just feel a hint of warmth on my back as the sunlight peeked over the top of the mountain. I smiled, stretching my wings out again, this time until they ached, and then hopped up onto the railing. Taking a deep breath and one last look at our beautiful city, I tucked my wings tightly to my back and held my arms open wide, leaning forward, and free-fell off the balcony.

I blinked against the sudden rush of the air and dropped straight down toward the base of the sheer, craggy red mountain. I let myself become that little boy who couldn't fly; let myself feel the familiar bloom of terror unfurl low in my gut. I pulled my arms in tight to my sides and as always, just for a moment, I imagined doing it. I considered just closing my eyes, wrapping my shadows tight to block out the world, and let the impact and darkness swallow me whole.