Page 10 of At The End There Was You

He could see her chest rising with shallow breaths. “You’re trying to frighten me.”

“There would be little reason to frighten someone soon to be a cockroach.”

Azriel had never felt such an urge to laugh as in that moment when her eyes rounded like saucers. He’d resisted the urge to laugh even long after that moment when he returned back to his seat, hiding a smile or two behind a piece of paper or a book.

After a glance at the clock behind him, Winter stood and left the library without a single word. She returned not long after with a tray filled with all sorts of pots and cutlery, lowering it on the middle of the table, sighing, dusting her hands on her robe and turning to him with a massive grin. “Dinner time.”

His gaze jumped from the food to her, unsure of what she was asking of him. “Then eat.”

“Eat with me. Or do you chew on paper like some odd seven feet tall mite?”

Azriel had never been pestered this much before, mocked either. He stared at the tray she put before him. Only stared at it.

Slowly, as if she was afraid she’d startle him, Winter grabbed his hand and put a spoon in it, even closing the fingers around the long silver handle. Azriel barely managed to focus on her words, too entranced by the way she was holding him and how she felt against his skin. “You do know how to use it, don’t you?” When he didn’t answer, she made a disgusted face and whispered almost frightened, “Please don’t tell me your kind of Mages really eat spleens and stuff, and this is why you’re looking at the bean stew as if it is offending you.”

“What if I say yes?” he teased, but the tone was lost in there somewhere because Winter looked horrified.

She swallowed and stood on shaky legs, letting go of him. “Does it have to be human? I can see if the cook can find a sheep’s or a cow’s, at the worst a hen’s.”

“Why would you do that if it disgusts you so much?”

“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.”

Slowly, she sat back, curiously watching him eat his stew. “I’m safe. You’re safe from my charm, too.”

He hummed. “Keep talking and perhaps not.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“You think I’m a man capable of teasing?”

“I’d like to think so, or I wouldn't believe you to be human at all. And that would scare me more.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

“Oh, well, I’m deluded amongst many other things. So what?” she mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “They already think I’m a bit insane. You should see how the High Priestess looked at me when I asked her for shampoo instead of soap on my first day on the Sanctum. How would I know we were supposed to give up the luxury of perfumy liquid wash for the humble bar of mass-produced soap when we joined the congregation?” She squinted at the food and nodded to herself. “Though I think that crying when they burned my cashmere sweater had already labelled me as of unsound mind. I mean, burn my dress and my insanely rare leather shoes, but cashmere?” Winter sighed and pointed a finger at the ceiling. “Why is he against cashmere? Better yet, why does he want all our previous belongings burned at all? My cashmere sweater would have kept someone warm. Not me, of course, because his love,” she said around a huge bite of bread, pointing to the ceiling again, “is supposed to keep us all warm, but definitely someone not fortunate to even know what warmth is.”

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 leaned back, watching her chew her food a little bit slower as if it tasted bitter. “You’re a smart girl, Winter. I occasionally enjoy what you have to say though it deeply distresses me and sometimes heavily makes me question your state of mind.”

Two red patches bloomed on her cheeks, and she hunched over her meal, shielding herself from him. “Eat your peas, they are good for you.”

Azriel would rather ask for that spleen. “They are disgusting.”

Her shoulders shook from laughter, and she coughed. “That is the most human thing I’ve heard you say. You almost gave me a fright there.”

He didn’t understand how that made him human, and he wanted to ask, but she clearly was enjoying her meal, so he decided to store that one question for later. Azriel was sure it would be an outrageous, an unheard conclusion, but he couldn’t wait to hear it.

Once they had been done with their meal, Winter had brought him chamomile tea again. Instead of biscuits, she’d procured him a few pieces of dark chocolate. Migraines—she’d told him dark chocolate was good for migraines. This time, she’d stood beside him and watched him until he’d had them all.

It distracts me, she’d told him. Watching others in pain.

He’d not corrected 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?