At the End There Was You (Blue Fairytales, #1)

by Wendy Heiss

“Were you waiting for me to say something?” “I was wishing you’d sing me a happy jig, but I would be fine with just words.”

He leaned back on his seat, one elbow propped back on the rest. “What sort of words do you wish to hear from me, Winter?”

“Small talk about the weather, gossip amongst the newest Mage scandal that only a few kno...

“I’d rather talk ab...

“Yes, about you. ...

She realised it then. “You were waiting for me to speak f...

He rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I’m not a good conversation starter.” “Just speaking is fine, Azriel. ...

“Fine for you to say, you’re good at it. Starting a...

“Nonsense. Who can silence their mind?” She thought about it for a moment. “Wait, people can do that?” She didn’t let him answer. “Why would anyone want that? To just…live with themselves like that. In emptiness and silence.”

At her words, he did it again, he brushed his fingers against her skin. “You are too warm perhaps. Weren’t you running?”

“It pleases me when one acknowledges their mistake.” He stepped closer, unable to escape the opportunity to find out the scent of her skin too, not just the feel. His lungs filled with the scent of flowers. She smelled like a meadow and sunshine. “Are you trying to please me, Winter?”

“There is so much I want to know about that mind. Do you think I wouldn’t have taken the chance and read it corner to corner instead of asking questions which you are starting to rarely or vaguely answer?”

“The book spoke about folk tales detailing a few moments from Death’s life which nothing else does. All books regard him as he is to be regarded—a God. They speak of him in exaltation and fear and humility, none go in detail of what sort of God he is, or even as a person. As humans, we’ve settled that dying is of course bad. But what of the dark God? What does he think of his gift? How would we know his anger when we know nothing of him at all. Nothing relating to him showing any emotion, whether anger, happiness, sadness. I asked a few of the other priestesses if they’d ever heard folk tales about Death because I had never. My mother never—" She stopped as if she had caught herself and looked up at him. Azriel did not give her the reassurance she needed, but she continued past her slip up, “No one ever told me tales, especially about Death. Everyone tells me they serve no purpose. Few of the girls said the cooks or the merchants coming in and out of the Sanctum might know a few since they are older, so I rushed to catch them when they were delivering to the kitchens this morning.”

Excitement coloured Winter’s face with patches of red that offered the most inconvenient distraction for Azriel because he really wanted to concentrate on what she was going to say. “What can you tell me first?”

“You can always join me, if you can’t.”

His foot began tapping fast against the floor as he struggled to focus on the words before him. All but five minutes later, he stood and dropped on the seat right next to hers. He’d surprised himself more than her. For reasons still unbeknownst to him, he sought her closeness.

He couldn’t help but feel the strands between his fingers, marvelling on the softness and the vibrance of colour against his skin. When he turned his head slightly to his left, his nose brushed against the crown of her head and his lungs filled with that soft scent of flowers again.

“You would be an impeccable storyteller.” A pretty one at that.

“But it doesn’t, does it?” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I am not the shepherd, Azriel. He found meaning in life, he’d always known its meaning. I don’t think I ever can. But going to hell is not half as bad as remaining in this world and never being able to find that meaning no matter how desperately you seek it. To be left here with answers that you are nothing, were nothing and will be nothing for an eternity is worse than what we have to face after death.” Her chair groaned loudly as she pushed it back and stood, fleeing the table towards the far end of the library.

He would go after her, but only after she had a moment alone. Azriel knew she needed that. He’d need it himself a few times before. He took that moment to think about what she’d said, about why she felt that she was nothing, about why she felt hopeless for her future even before Death’s plague.

For a moment after he stood, he hesitated. What if he saw her cry? He couldn’t see her cry—not her.

He nodded and turned to leave, only stopped by her hand clasping the edge of his jacket sleeve. One little move and he’d be holding her, touching her. “Where are you going?”

But she needed a remedy for her sadness more than he needed one for his anger. “To get some jasmine tea for you.”

Her lashes fluttered fast. Her hand that was still grabbing onto his sleeve, tightened its hold on him. “No,” she said, shaking her head and moving ahea...

“Your way of getting comfort is by giving it. Odd, but there isn’t anything ordinary about you, Winter.”

“Spend it with your friend. Spend it in the rain, smiling or sulking at it, whichever you want. You look pretty while sulking, too.”

“I’ll finish early, too. If I am lucky, I might get to see you sulk or smile at the rain.”

She’d just closed her eyes when she felt a shadow falling over her. When she opened them, a pair of black eyes were looking down at her. Night was looking down at her. The darkest night. Starless. Moonless. But the most entrancing one she’d ever seen.

Without helping it, she smiled up at him while he frowned even deeper and looked up at the skies as if searching for the reason of her sudden joy there.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Tell me when you figure it out.”

“I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

She smiled again. “Were you going to come and smother me?”

“Why would I do that to the poor woman who I’m turning ...

Winter was now grinning at him and that somehow always made him frown like he couldn’t make sense of it. “Take care of me when you...

He finally lowered himself down to her, crouching just above her, their faces closer. She thought him handsome even upside down ...

“You’d ke...

“I will, only because you’re much nicer in my dreams.” His lips twitched with amusement. “Am I?”

His head lowered and his shoulder started shaking. Still somewhat baffled, Winter realised it a tiny bit too late that he was laughing. Azriel took off his glasses and rubbed hand over his eyes, grinning. “Alright, Winter, no need to go that far, I’ll apologise.”

“Thought you didn’t care for apologies.”

“But you do.” He put his glasses back on and turned away from her. “Go to bed now.”

Not bearing it any longer, she reached him and took his hand before she had time to think against it. “Let’s spend an hour outside. I miss the sun and it’s finally out today.”

“Have a break and go stay in the sun for a little while. Take your friends, too,” he said, but still held onto her hand, his thumb working back and forth over her skin, so softly and tenderly

Winter shook her head and pulled onto his hand until he had no choice but to get to his feet. They were so close that her neck ached at the angle when she looked up at him. “Take your book. Contrary to popular belie...

He leaned down until his face was entirely too close to hers that she could taste his scent of vetiver and sanda...

She nodded and made to pull away from him before her mouth would start watering just for a little taste of his skin, but he held onto ...

“I suppose that is what they call it when two people join their hands.” “Why ar...

“Winter,” he called to her, and she snapped back to attention. “You were abou...

“Right.” She closed her fingers around his hand and pulled him out of the library and towards ...

“Why are you never angry at me?”