Page 37 of At The End There Was You

“Does it matter?”

“I’ve told you time and time again, that everything matters when it comes to you.”

The pain was spreading, and Winter was in agony. “This is not about me. It has never been about me. It’s about the pain of many.”

“There is no pain in death.”

“Only cruelty.”

He reached for her. “Winter.”

She stepped away. “How can you serve justice when you punish everyone the same?”

His hand that had halted between them slowly closed as he retracted it back to his side. “Humanity will never learn, never care, will never want to better itself. It will be better if it all perishes before more innocents suffer.” He swallowed hard, his onyx eyes suddenly turning a glaze of grey. “What about me? About what I feel? The pain that I carry. Does it matter to anyone?”

It mattered to her, but Winter would never say it out loud. She hated her tears, hated that she felt his pain even though he was about to commit the worst cruelty there was. She wanted to hate him. But how could she?

“What do your tears mean, Winter? I want to touch them and take them away, but if they are because of me, I will let you be.”

It took every little bit of courage her weak body held to force herself and tell him, “They are because of you.” She’d lied and she’d also told the truth. They were because of him, but he didn’t have to know any more than that.

One day until the end

That morning she’d gone to pray, and he’d gone to watch her. Leaning against a pillar, Azriel hid in its shadow, and studied Winter. There was a strange look on her face. She looked resigned, tired; her eyes glued on the thick roots of wisteria while everyone else’s was drawn shut in a prayer. She was not praying. “Look at me, Winter, just look at me once,” he murmured to himself, desperate for only a small clue to her thoughts.

Just then, she closed her eyes and began murmuring a prayer. Her lips moved fast, and his soul sank to the pit of his stomach when he realised that she had nothing left but to ask his brother for help.

Azriel couldn’t stand there any longer, just watching her.

Miriam was glued on a spot just outside the prayer room, in the middle of the long corridors lit by the oval widows framing the faint daylight that was rising past dawn. It was obvious she’d been waiting for him.

He walked past her, ignoring her glaring stare.

“You came for her.”

Azriel’s steps halted and something like venom filled his veins.

The High Priestess, against any better judgement, stepped before him, filling his line of vision entirely with pure human hatred. “What is so different about that girl?”

“Nothing,” he said, truly. “There is nothing different about Winter.” Not to her anyway. Not to the world, perhaps. He didn’t care for her to be different to anyone. If they knew how special she was, they'd want a piece, too, they’d want to tarnish her for the fun of it. And if they knew how special she was to him, they’d use her against him.

“For some reason, I doubt that to be the truth.”

He could laugh, but he felt too bitter to force himself to even do that. How could Winter testify for the goodness of human nature? The same who wouldn't blink an eye to have her become a sacrifice for their sin. “You find a sense of confidence in the fact that my brother will not abandon you in my hands.”

“He will not allow such a thing to ever happen.” She stepped closer to him, a menacing look burning in her eyes. “I invited you to his home to see how weak you are before him and before us and our faith.”

It had always surprised him how quick they were to pit the two brothers against, how quick they were to assume bad blood between them. When the truth was, he adored his big brother, adored what he was and what he did, his sense of justice and his strong beliefs. Despite all that had happened in Azriel’s life, despite the lack of love his selfish parents had deprived him of, his brother was the best thing they had given him. It was expected that the sons of Chaos and Order would never live a life of love, but he’d lived it because of him. And again because of his brother, because of his brother’s pure heart, he’d found another love. The love that was about to tear him apart. “It was my brother who granted me seven days in this realm. It was my brother who let me decide on the punishment you’d receive.”

“Lies.”

“Only the end will tell whether I lie or not.”

Miriam’s eyes shifted behind Azriel, and he turned to look at Winter who’d stopped at the threshold of the prayer room exit, staring directly at him. He wanted to sigh with relief when he saw no fear there, but she was looking at him the same way she’d seen the rain that day in the library. As if she’d miss it. Azriel knew then she’d given up on him—on her promise, too.

Miriam dropped to the ground, sobbing, and grabbing his feet. “Forgive me! Forgive me. Please do not hurt me. Please!” she screamed and cried like a banshee, pushing that dagger that had edged between his ribs last night at the sight of Winter’s tears deeper and deeper.

Winter’s eyes filled with hurt, and she rushed to the High Priestess’s side, helping her up. “Do not,” she whispered harshly at him, half choking on her words. “Please.”