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

by Wendy Heiss

Once, she’d even thought time had fallen in love with her, too. As she was no longer afraid of it, counting it or mourning it. And she’d been enamoured with the marks it had left on her skin, each faint wrinkle and freckle was a kiss or a touch it had grazed on her face as it passed.

Your mistress said you’d be a shadow, not the whole damn sun.” Heat rose to her face. “Apologies.” “I do not care for them.”

“If you’re going to throw something at me, might I suggest a pen or a piece of paper,” he said, paying very little attention to her. “I was not going to hit you with anything.” “You looked violent.” “And you look like you’ve not had a single good day in your life, but since we’ve met, not once have I thought you’re about to cry on my shoulder.” “Are you always this argumentative?” “Are you always this sour?”

“Oh, but imagine when this is all over, they’d write books about me. The priestess who died of exhaustion whilst defending the fate of the world.” “Theatrical.” She shrugged. “We have to romanticise our lives somehow.”

“Chamomile tea is good for headaches.” “What makes you think I have one?” “You keep rubbing your temples.” He intended to leave it at that, but he simply couldn’t. “Were you watching me?” She blinked down at him, her face passive. “Yes. People watching is a hobby of mine.” “An odd hobby.”

“You put sugar in it.” “Honey,” she said, taking a seat. “You look like you need something sweet.” Azriel disliked anything sweet, but she’d not told him that she thought he liked something sweet, she’d told him he needed it. “From your observations, correct?”

“You need sustenance.” He dipped the utensil in the stew and ate a couple of spoonfuls. “Careful, Winter. That gullibility is almost charming. No one would want to charm a man like me.”

“You’re lying to yourself.” “Oh, well, I’m deluded amongst many other things. So what?”

Azriel was so confused. “Even food does not keep her quiet,” he murmured to himself. He saw a little light fade from her eyes. “You want me to be quiet?” “No. I was only praising your resolve.”

He’d not corrected her and told her that he was not in pain because he liked that she cared enough to help him soothe it. No one had ever looked after Azriel. He’d usually been the one to look after others. After an hour or so, he’d concluded that he’d tell her that he was not in pain and make her stop giving him teas and biscuits and dark chocolates. He didn’t wish to feel the need for care. What if the need never left him? Who would satiate it then?

She raised a brow at him. “A joke, I believe?” “No, I’m honestly curious you might actually have a spell or something. Do you?”

There was no distance where one had ever been safe from him. But he usually allowed others this feigned commodity, only for the peace of his mind though as dealing with fearful creatures was one of his greatest dislikes.

here.” So, she’d had him followed. Had she also seen who he’d visited last night? Who he’d watched sleep?

“Why are you looking at me? Am I your task?” Yes, she wanted to say. I’d rather attempt every moment for the next four days to say or do something smart or funny and see if it can make you laugh again.

A bony creature veiled in black torn robes and with bright red gleaming eyes stared back at her. “Would he laugh if I said you’re angry because you’re ugly looking?” she whispered to the drawing. “Yes.” She screamed and then caught herself on the first loud note, slapping a hand over her mouth when she noticed Azriel leaning against a shelf, taller than any shadow in the library and just as terrifying. “Really?” she whispered, still breathing a bit hard from the scare. Azriel cocked an eyebrow, seeming confused at her question.

“You did not like that either.” “Whether I like it or not doesn’t matter.” “It does,” he simply said, pushing his glasses back with a finger. “But whoever told you that what you want, think, crave, desire, like or dislike doesn’t matter, certainly had you well convinced enough to make you believe it, too.”