Astrid woke up with a scream wedged in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes-- she was in a place filled with pleasant warmth and semi-darkness, feeling safe. She closed her eyes again, hoping to recall more details from her dream.

This wasn't the first time she had dreamed about angels since she had found that book in the library, but this dream had felt different.

It couldn't have been a dream... The girl in the flames had been real, and so had the two dark-clad, wingless... angels who had saved her. Fallen angels.

But that was impossible. If it all had happened, then she should still be in the meadow, surrounded by people and flames. Astrid pulled herself up on her elbows to better see where she was, but even that slight movement made her head spin, and a sigh escaped her.

That was enough to bring Orion rushing to her side, eyes filled with worries, his hands on her shoulders pushing her back down. His touch made her shiver and it surprised her-- it felt too different from the angel's strong but gentle arms, holding her close to his body as his scent of burning incense wrapped around her, filling her mind like the sound of his voice...

Scolding herself for thinking about the stranger, Astrid smiled at Orion as she obliged, lying back down.

"What happened? Where are we?" she asked, observing her fiancé's face.

Was it really worry in his sapphire irises, looking nearly black in the tenebrosity surrounding them, or was it some other feeling, curiosity laced with suspicion, incredulity mixed with disapproval... her head kept spinning; she couldn't focus enough to understand.

The deep frown marring his features as he replied, hinted at anger. "You caused chaos at a witch trial. You must never do that again. You need to listen to me, Astrid, or..."

Ignoring the hint of a threat wrapped in his words, she looked away from him, her frown mirroring his. So it hadn't been a dream.

Turning her head to the side, Astrid could see a fire burning beyond the thin, fabric wall, and the moving silhouettes of the five guards huddled around it. She could hear the murmur of their voices and the faint whisper of the river somewhere beyond. It was dark; a few candles were lit in the tent around her and Orion, filling the darkness with their faint, flickering light. How much time had passed, how did they get here?

"The girl?" she asked, looking back at Orion, and now she could feel the anger he had tried to hide before, hitting her like a wave.

"The witch magicked herself out of the flames somehow. We all saw her fly away."

You shouldn't be able to see me.

Her mysterious stranger's words uttered so long ago finally made sense. Orion and the other guards, the people gathered in the meadow, could not perceive him.

Why could she see him, then?

Astrid's heart fluttered as she recalled his irises the colour of seafoam, profound like the ocean, looking into her eyes as if he hoped to read her thoughts... He had been there, she had seen him, he and his friend had saved the girl...

He belongs to those who killed your parents, a small voice whispered in her mind, shattering her reverie, extinguishing the smile forming on her lips before it could grow fully. She wouldn't think of him ever again. She mustn't. It was the fault of those like him that she had been brought up by Uncle Arcturus, a ruthless man who didn't believe in love, who had kept her locked away from truths and reality. It was the angels' fault that she was here now, alone with Orion and a handful of guards, searching for them to be able to change that ancient, awful treaty.

Why hadn't she asked the angel where they were all hiding instead of telling him that... that she... had missed him? Had she really said that? Why?

She closed her eyes, feeling nauseated, appalled, and angry at herself. She was engaged to Orion. She would marry Orion in a few weeks. Just what had she been thinking?

Attempting another smile, she opened her eyes again. Orion smiled back at her this time, his face cleared of the previous emotions. He seemed happy, content that she was recovering.

She moved to the side, making space for him in the nest of blankets she was lying on, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a clean shirt.

"Hmm, how did I change?" she asked, letting him wrap his arms around her and pull her close, so close that she could feel his heart beating against her chest through the layers of fabric separating them.

"I removed your torn clothes, cleaned your bleeding lip, washed you, and changed you," he said as if it was the most natural thing.

Astrid blushed, then frowned. Somehow, this felt more intimate than anything that had happened between them so far. She wasn't sure that she appreciated it, didn't know if his behaviour was right or wrong.

"I did nothing you wouldn't do for me, am I wrong? We promised to look after each other," he added, his fingers laced tightly around her ring.

She sighed, letting go of her warring thoughts, realising that he was right, in a way. They had promised each other that, and if it had been him who was injured and unconscious, then she would do anything to help him feel better.

Resigned to his logic and the impossibility of changing what had already happened, she snuggled more comfortably into him, ready to go back to sleep, when he said, "I have to step outside for a while. I still need to wash and change and tell the men that you are feeling better. They've been worried about you. I'll bring you something to eat; you need to regain some strength before we set out on the road again in the morning."

"All right. Don't be too long," she pleaded, shivering as she followed him out of bed. She wanted to walk around and feel the bruises and other possible injuries to prepare herself mentally for the next day's ride.

He nodded, vanishing beyond the tent's flap, leaving her feeling strangely, unpleasantly alone in this place, separated from the rest of the world by partly translucent walls. Astrid made her way, barefooted, around the small tent, her aching toes revelling in the softness of the blanket spread on the ground. Luckily, the rest of her body felt less painful. Even her lip had stopped bleeding and seemed to be healing.

It only took five steps for Astrid to reach the opposite wall of the tent where someone had placed their saddlebags. She needed to find a mirror to assess her injuries properly. She also wanted her books-- meeting the dark-clad, mysterious angel made her want to leaf through Wuthering Heights again.

There was something in the fallen angel that made her think of Heathcliff, she had never met anyone else hiding behind such a great shield of contrasting emotions-- anger, compassion, serenity, desperation, hope, resignation, pride, hatred, empathy, sorrow, kindness... They all emanated from him like a halo, hid, and protected him like that black cloak he wore. Astrid was sure that he believed in love... experienced it... The thought of the angel possibly being in love with someone made her heart beat faster and her frown return. What sort of a girl could someone like him love? But of course, she didn't care.

And thinking of angels, she had been meaning to make Orion read her Book of Angels before they would speak to them. They needed to try to understand the fallen angels-- demons, as her book called them, even though Uncle Arcturus did not seem to agree with that name-- to be able to persuade them to stop the killings. She shivered again when she realised that her dark angel was a ruthless killer.

No, he wasn't. She had seen him and his friend rescuing a girl condemned to death by her uncle.

Astrid sighed; nothing was making sense anymore.

One of Orion's bags lay open on top of hers, and she thought that she could as well prepare clean clothes for him before he returned from the river. She pulled out one of the shirts folded neatly on top, meaning to shake out the creases and carry it to their provisory bed, when her eyes fell on the object that was lying beneath.

It wasn't large, not much larger than her hand, black, sleek, and perfectly smooth, its shape inviting her hand to close around it. Without thinking, she lifted it, gasping at feeling its unexpected weight and coldness. It was made of some kind of metal; it vaguely reminded her of something she had read about in a book...

She hadn't noticed Orion's presence until his arm wrapped around her waist from behind, his closeness making her jump and drop the strange object back among his clothes.

"It's a gun, Astrid, I bought it from Achernar," he said nonchalantly, pulling her closer to him.

He pushed all her hair to one side and pulled her shirt off her shoulder, then pressed his warm lips to her bare skin, the cool tips of his damp hair making her tremble.

She giggled nervously, pushing him away as she realised that he was only wearing a towel wrapped around his hips.

She wasn't in the mood for any of this, she could only think of the gun, gleaming dimly from the pile of clothes in his bag. Turning around, Astrid passed him the shirt she was still holding.

"Is it the thing that people used to kill each other in the past?" she asked, voice shaking slightly as she took another step away from him. "Why do you need it?"

"For protection," he said, voice filled with a strange satisfaction.

He wanted her to find it, Astrid mused, turning away again as he dropped the towel to put a clean pair of pants on.

He reached her again then, and spinning her around, pressed a kiss on her lips.

"Let me just get us some food, I'll be back in a minute."

Astrid nodded, unable to produce a sound, and watched him disappear into the night once more.

She found the books in her bag quickly, noticing that her hands were shaking. There was a new, alien emotion around Orion. She couldn't name it, but she didn't like it. It felt like... a total absence of light... no, like frost... Whatever it was, it was a cold determination of some sort, which Astrid hadn't sensed in him until this night.

As she walked back towards the bed, her hands shook so much that she dropped the books, her copy of Wuthering Heights opening at a random page. Sighing, she picked them up, finding a letter lying on the open page-- a small envelope addressed to Michael, the name written in an elegant, decidedly female handwriting, which she had never seen.

Astrid had entirely forgotten about the words whispered into her mind by Deimos, that night a few days and an eternity ago.

Find Michael.

Was this letter from her, to him? Could her dark angel be Michael? Maybe Deimos knew about him, had seen him in the castle... Astrid had always feared Deimos, but maybe the sorceress wasn't like her uncle, maybe she was like the girl in the fire, like... her, Astrid, whatever that meant...

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by all that was happening around her, Astrid put the small envelope back among the book's pages and closed it, laid the Book of Angels on Orion's pillow for him to read if he wanted to, and crawled under the blankets.

When Orion returned a few minutes later, she pretended to be asleep, curled around her book, and drifted off to sleep before he came to bed.