Ten Blythe
TEN
B LYTHE
Blythe had long dreamed of the day when she and Aris would stroll the streets of Brude once more.
When the tune of the accordion would wash over her, and she could drink all the hot chocolate she craved while arm in arm with her husband.
How marvelous it was to be back in this town.
To make it a part of their daily lives between all the adventures they would one day share.
For now, she didn’t care about travels. She only wanted the two of them to settle into their new life, and for her to get to truly know Aris as her husband in a way she’d never before had the chance.
There was a warmth upon her ring finger.
A golden band of light that had returned when Aris did, and that pulsed pleasantly against her skin with his nearness.
She couldn’t help but notice how he watched her with hawklike focus whenever she passed by a shop window, as well as all the whispered secrets he and Signa had shared over the past several days.
Blythe knew her husband was on the hunt for a perfect gift, though she wished he wasn’t so concerned.
She’d loved everything Aris had ever made for her, no matter how small.
Still, she knew her husband, so she knew he would not settle until he found what he believed to be the perfect gift.
“My father could use a new suit,” Blythe told him, pretending she was half distracted as she glanced into the window of a dress shop. Aris was quick to take the bait, bending down to peer inside.
“He’s too stubborn to stand for measurements these days,” she continued, turning to take hold of Aris’s hands. “I was hoping you might be willing to make him one. I’ll pick the colors and the fabrics, and you work your magic to make it the perfect fit. It’ll be a gift from us both.”
He nodded, hands gentle in hers. “Of course. Though I have a gift of my own in mind for him. He was the easiest of you lot to figure out.”
Blythe hadn’t realized how much those words would mean to her.
While it was true that Elijah hadn’t always been the father she’d hoped for while growing up, he’d made up for it a thousand times over throughout the years, and heat pricked Blythe’s eyes at the mere suggestion that Aris had been planning something for Elijah entirely of his own accord.
“I’m sure it’ll be spectacular,” she whispered, keen on not letting him see that her eyes were a touch misty.
“And what about for you?” he asked, drawing her close enough to be just on the edge of scandalous. “Would you like a trip? A new gown?”
“We have all that we need, Aris.” She turned in his arms, tipping her head back against his chest. “There’s nothing you need to buy. Should you insist on getting me something, let it be a gift you made.”
He rested his chin atop her head, and she could feel the gentle pull of his lips as they smiled. “You’re not tired of my magic?”
“You, my love, are a fool if you believe that I will ever tire of your magic. Something crafted by your hands is the best gift I could ask for. Besides, it may help put an end to your and Signa’s conspiring.”
“ Our conspiring? As if you and my brother aren’t doing the same thing.”
To this, Blythe only smiled. It was true that she was working with Death on what she hoped was the most perfect gift of all, though given that she’d not heard from him, Blythe could only hope that all was well.
“No one needs perfect, Aris. We only need you.” It was strange sometimes to remember how new this all was for him.
Through his tapestries, Blythe was certain that Aris had lived a million different Christmases, some of them modest, others spectacular.
Some full of gifts and family, and others that felt no different from any ordinary day.
But Fate himself would never have had a family to celebrate with.
They’d come close, the year of his death.
They’d spent the night together, and Aris had given her the most marvelous gift.
But Blythe had been sick, and everyone had been on tense terms. The holiday had been far from a celebration.
And maybe that, too, was why this was so important to her. She didn’t want Aris stressed. Didn’t want him worrying. She leaned back, smoothing both hands through his hair before she cupped either side of his face.
“What I want most is to enjoy our time here. To roll around in the snow and drink the greatest hot chocolate in the world. Return with me later to Wisteria, and let us relax and play games. Let us enjoy the holiday without this unnecessary fuss, all right? No more scheming or agonizing. Just be here, with me.”
Though his body softened beneath her touch, there was a hardened edge in Aris’s eye that Blythe worried at. One that told her this request, perhaps, would not be so easy for him.
“We will have the Christmas you dream of,” he said, kissing the backs of her knuckles as he took hold of her hand once more. “I swear it. But we need not wait until we return home to have fun.”
Blythe squealed as he practically tackled her on the street, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her over his shoulder.
“Aris!” she cried between bursts of laughter. “This is not how you hold a lady!”
“It is when you want to be efficient.” He carved a swift path through town, unbothered as Blythe fussed against him. In the end she had no choice but to just hang there on his shoulder, offering a thin smile and a small wave to all who stared at them as they passed.
“Hello,” she muttered to an older woman who seemed affronted by the spectacle. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Others hurried on past her without word, and Blythe scowled as she felt Aris’s shoulders trembling with laughter.
“You think this is funny, do you? You try hanging over some brute’s shoulder like a slaughtered deer.”
“I’ve never met anyone as dramatic as you,” he said. “Not in all my lives.”
“Have you tried looking in a mirror?”
They were outside town now, back near the woods, and Aris gave her no answer. Instead, he threw her off his shoulder and straight into a mound of powdered snow. She landed on her back, mouth gaping open and her eyes wide in shock as he hovered over her, biting back a smirk.
“You absolute barbarian.” She sat upright, dusting herself off with growing determination as she lurched to her feet.
“I’m going to destroy you and all your k—” Her words were cut off as a snowball struck her square in the face.
She stumbled back, and this time Aris could not control his laughter.
He roared with it, practically doubled over as Blythe brushed wet snow from her eyelashes.
She would kill him. Oh yes, it would be an absolute bloodbath. He’d left her with no other choice.
Aris was already scooping more snow, but Blythe had no intention of playing fairly.
The ground rumbled as she called upon the roots beneath Aris’s heels, summoning them up to knock him onto his back.
He fell into the snow, gasping as Blythe piled a mound and tossed it at him.
She didn’t bother to properly shape the snow into something easily thrown, but rather continued to rapidly scoop it onto him, as if working to bury her husband.
Aris’s hair was soaked, blond strands plastered against his scalp and cheeks as he tried to escape the verdant vines that grew from the soil.
Only when Aris’s eyes darkened to a deep molten gold did Blythe stop, for his threads had woven around her.
They forced her hands to turn, and suddenly the snow in her palms was not directed at Aris, but at herself.
She cursed as her traitorous hands hefted armfuls of snow, spluttering as they tossed it up and into her own face.
“Shall we declare a truce?” Aris asked. Blythe had dropped control over the vines in her distraction, and he crossed the ground to stand before her, sporting a smug expression.
It’d take a good while until she was truly skilled enough in her magic to go toe-to-toe with either him or Death. But she certainly enjoyed the practice.
“Truce,” she grumbled, and his threads loosened around her so quickly that Blythe stumbled back into the snow once more. She was about to drag him down with her when Aris plopped beside her, ensuring he was at a proper distance to extend his arms and legs and sweep them slowly across the snow.
Good God, he was making a snow angel.
Blythe grinned and followed suit, swiping until she was certain the snow had taken her shape and then carefully standing upright. Aris joined her, taking her hand and guiding them a step back to inspect their work.
Blythe tipped her head as she inspected them. “Yours looks crooked.”
“And yours looks tiny and frightening. I didn’t know these were meant to be self-portraits.”
She went to jab him in the chest, but Aris caught her hand at the last second and pulled her to face him.
“I could spend a million Christmases with you and still it will not be enough,” Aris whispered as he cupped her face in warm, tender hands. Blythe’s heart was in her throat, her body putty between his palms.
“Then spend two million with me,” she whispered, to which he smiled.
“Two million.” Aris bent to kiss her, and Blythe couldn’t imagine herself ever able to feel happier than she did as he whispered against her skin, “Let’s start there.”