Wheeling Gull Isle The Apocryphon of John

Blue nearly flinched to hear the name she'd held so carefully away from her thoughts. They looked so alike, she could see it now. Solemnly she shook her head, finally turning to let her gaze settle fully on his face. Bartholomew. Of all those who had come and gone from this island, his still lingered; the loudest whisper in the wind of those souls whose imprints still echoed over the sands.

I knew him, but -

But he's gone now, she might have said. The arrival of Heda's boy cut her short. Blue hid her displeasure behind a display of wariness, stepping around the pretty man's pretty behind so he wouldn't see the glare she shot toward the pale youth. The malice left her eyes just as quickly, and she arranged herself safely on the man's opposite side.

He's been gone a long time, Blue added softly, determined not to let the little shit throw her off. I'm sorry. Longer than you've been alive, she thought bitterly in his general direction.