Heir of Spring

Flying Lessons Part 1

Asta craned her neck slightly and stared skeptically at Azriel, now stood atop a large rock. His wings were stretched slightly, facing the sun and Asta tried subtly to copy his movements. He then sat down, with his legs dangling over the edge of the boulder and patted the space beside him.

"You're not going to fly from down there," Azriel said. He spoke quietly but not weakly, and his face rarely changed from that look of undisturbed calm. Asta clambered up the rock and swung her little legs down beside him. She tucked her hair behind her pointed ears, stiff with tangles from the exhilarating ride to this little spot outside the city. Tamlin didn't want Asta being flown far away by a virtual stranger, but some begging from Asta, some words with Rhys and Feyre and a small glance at Azriel's deadpan expression was enough to persuade him to let Asta come out here with him.

"So," Asta said, after a minute of silence in which she had squirmed impatiently. "How do we start?" Azriel turned, rubbing a hand over his dark stubble.

"We start when you have told me why you haven't flown before."

"I've tried. But... I just can't."

"It must be more than that. A child with wings should be airborne by your age." Asta's eyes began to brim with tears of despair.

"But I can't! I get up to the top, and I'm ready, I want to fly, so much, and then I look down and my legs go wobbly and my hands shake. What's wrong with me?!" By this point, Asta was weeping pathetically into her hands. Azriel, unfazed by Asta's outburst, started to smile.

"Asta, you don't need to worry. You are just a bit scared of heights. Lots of people are."

Asta peered up from her tear-stained hands. "Really?" She asked. This time Azriel laughed.

"I think we will have to get you over this vertigo before I can teach you anything," He explained. "C'mon." He stood up effortlessly and hauled Asta up with him. "Ready?" He asked, wrapping his arms under Asta's armpits. She nodded, still wiping away her tears. Azriel launched into the cool breeze with a powerful flap of his wings.

***

Every moment spent in the damned Night Court made Tamlin more and more on edge. He'd come for some forgiveness, nothing else, and that's what he's got.  Albeit grudging forgiveness, but Tamlin wasn't picky. He should be back home, with Asta playing in the garden. He sat by a wide window in a formal meeting room, arms crossed and face schooled into neutrality. Lucien sat at his side, stiff from the tension that hung over this room like heavy smoke. As the Night Court emissary, he was here to monitor the conversation. Tamlin shunned the thought that 7 years ago he would have sat here as the Spring Court's emissary. Rhysand slouched on the settee opposite, gazing out the window, watching the waters of the Sidra rush past. At that moment Feyre pushed upon the door and strode in, followed by some sort of wraith carrying a tray of aromatic tea. Tamlin almost chuckled at the fact that despite their morbid past, he was still treated with such civilities. 

"May as well get these talks over with." Feyre sighed. Tamlin snapped back to attention to see Feyre seated beside Rhys. He nodded. 

"We need to figure out how to transport goods between us. Perhaps you have a trade route running near us?" 

Cheap shot. Tamlin withheld his glare at the High Lord's direction, instead choosing to ignore his sarcasm.    

"There are no trade routes coming in or out of the Spring Court. It has taken us a while to rebuild since... Well, since. Given the small number of my guards, we must focus on one thing at a time." Tamlin grinned internally at Feyre's small flinch of guilt. Two can play that game. 

"The Night Court have routes into Summer and Autumn," Lucien blurted. "They can easily be extended into the Spring Court." Feyre nodded. 

"That will work. We can transfer goods through those." She looked at Tamlin for confirmation. Tamlin cocked his head. He hadn't forgotten all his lessons from the courtiers of the old Spring Court. It was time for the Spring Court to rise from the ashes.

"I want to be able to use these trade routes. To trade with other courts," He declared. Rhysand sneered.

"Why would we do that?" He spat. "We get nothing out of it." Feyre sat watching the exchange silently. 

"My people have suffered from the damages you inflicted on my court," Tamlin spoke quietly and without bite. "It is time Asta's friends at home don't go hungry every winter." Feyre wilted at the mention of the children at the Spring Court, but Tamlin's words angered Rhysand.

"Do not pretend our attack was unprovoked. You have no right to be here, and we could force you from our court in a blink," He snarled. "Do you want to make a deal or not?" Tamlin nodded.

"I have sole control of the border between us and the mortal world. I will let the Night Court have routes through my land and over the border, and in return, I have free use of your trade routes that enter the Spring Court." Tamlin looked at Lucien for confirmation of success in his offer.

"You both benefit," Lucien muttered, not eager to get in the middle. Feyre nodded. 

"Fine."

***

Asta's boots dangled in the air a foot above the cobbles as her hands gripped the rail of bridge tightly. Azriel stood beside her, gazing into the rushing water below them. Asta narrowed her eyes.

"How is this going to help me to fly?" She asked suspiciously. 

"So you aren't scared?" Azriel inquired. The male spoke so softly Asta had to stay quiet and still, and pay attention to every word he said. Asta inspected the Sidra below.

"No." 

"Not even if you climbed up onto the rail?" Asta gulped.

"'Course not." Azriel grinned.

"Come on, then," And he leaped effortlessly onto the rail, wings splayed for balance. The passers-by watched him curiously, a couple pausing to spectate. He offered her a hand, and she took it shakily, allowing herself to be hauled up. A female tutted at the scene as she hurried past, but Asta paid no heed, focusing instead on her feet being centered. Azriel smiled.

"I suppose you were right then. You're not scared." Asta puffed up her chest, but then made the fatal mistake of looking down. The silvery water seemed to get faster and faster, and the rail narrower and narrower. 

"I - i - EEeek!" She cried and toppled backward onto the pavement. Azriel was by her side in a second, and she shook her head. "Maybe I was a bit scared..." Azriel grimaced. 

"Practise makes perfect, I suppose." He pulled her upright.

"Where shall we go now?" Asta asked. Azriel smiled.

"I'll show you." He gathered her into his arms and shot into the sky, beelining for the balconies set into the mountain. Asta had heard about this place.

"The House of Wind," She breathed.