The sound of rustling leaves caused Oriel to sit up straight and look around. She had been sitting up on a branch and lounging against the tree trunk and enjoying the stillness of the evening. Although it was past twilight, her eyes could see quite well in the dark. Oriel smiled as she watched Lucifer slowly emerge from the trees.

She jumped down from her perch to land directly in front of him as he brushed invisible dirt off his shoulders. A stray leaf had stuck in his hair and she pulled it off and cast it aside as he scowled. Unbraided, her own tresses tumbled over her shoulders and a good way down her back. She had however managed to keep them free of foliage.

"Yet another reason to stay out of the forests," Lucifer said and absently ran his fingers through his hair.

"There is a road that way." Oriel pointed. A wide grin spread across her face in response to his displeasure.

"Yes, yes. I was curious," he replied. "It's mostly an unremarkable stand of trees."

"Mostly."

"A shirt for your charge. Unless you changed your mind about having him dressed?" Lucifer said and held out what looked like a small pillow.

Oriel smiled again and looked off into the forest after taking the shirt. For a short time, she had been able to dismiss her concern regarding Aramis' health.

The devil knew very well that under most circumstances she would have had some sort of biting retort. He asked how her patient was doing. Oriel shrugged and explained that while the wound on his side was healing, Aramis had a cough and fever that kept returning which troubled her. Almost immediately, Lucifer offered to be of assistance and she quickly declined the offer.

"I'm quite sure his stubbornness alone will keep him alive," Oriel mused and related Aramis' continued reluctance to take the medicine offered. "He thinks I'm not quite human and has taken to praying around me."

"You could pretend to be human until he is well enough to leave."

"No. I am whatever I am."

Lucifer chuckled. Aramis was not the only stubborn one. After thanking the devil for bringing the shirt, Oriel asked what he had been up to in the week or so since they had last spoken. The devil shook his head and provided an indirect answer. Oriel's eyes narrowed as she wondered why Lucifer wouldn't say what he was doing.

"The woman? Is there any news of her?"

Lucifer shook his head. He shared that no one had seen or heard from Adele since she departed in the company of the Cardinal.

"She's dead," Oriel stated.

"Most likely."

Oriel put her head down and walked a few steps toward the forest gripping the shirt tightly. She suddenly spun; eyes alight. "If he tired of her, he would cast her away without a care. But because she found something new to occupy her time…"

Lucifer remained quiet and watched her pace. He knew this was not the time to quibble over her choice of words. Once he decided that Oriel had calmed down a bit, the devil reminded her that no one was sure that Adele was dead. His statement only flamed her temper again and her eyes blazed teal in his direction.

"Eventually, he will pay," Lucifer said, leaving unsaid the truth of the subject at hand.

"Not soon enough."

Aramis had not been satisfied with Oriel's explanation for her living on the edge of the Broceliande woods. Even though she had returned his pants to him well-cleaned, and helped him get out of bed when he wasn't feverish, he was still uneasy. After he had watched her manipulate the fire, he was determined to discover what he could about his host. So, on those evenings when he felt better, Aramis did his best to covertly spy on Oriel.

With Aramis taking up her bed, Oriel usually sat near the fire in the evening. When he awoke in the middle of the night, he could discern her shadowy form in the same spot. As he peered into the darkness trying to discern more detail, Aramis watched as Oriel seemingly disappeared into thin air on more than one occasion. He was sure that the herbs or wine weren't having an effect on what he saw and that he was living with someone or something that wasn't human.

On the nights he was left alone, Aramis did his best to stay awake to await her return but failed. When he awoke in the morning, Oriel had returned. She appeared to be no different from the day before and made no mention of having left the dwelling. She brought him food or something to drink when he asked and sometimes ate with him. Their conversations were easy and light-hearted, and much as Aramis didn't want to admit it to himself, he enjoyed them.

Human or not, she seemed to be concerned about his well-being. Each day, Oriel continued to monitor the wound on his side which was healing well. Throughout her ministrations, Aramis continued to murmur prayers. His recitations resulted in nothing more than an amused expression appearing on Oriel's face.

While his prayers didn't seem to bother her; his lingering cough and a fever that kept returning did. Oriel had seen many people die from less and sternly told him so. She continued to mix some wine with a pinch of herbs for him. Aramis however, drank as little of the herb mixture she offered as he could get away with.

One day, when he was feeling a bit stronger and curiosity was getting the best of him, Aramis decided he would get some sort of answer from her. When Oriel returned from getting some water, he announced that he would like to get out of bed and try walking around the inside of the cottage. He was happy to see that she looked pleased with his decision. As Oriel approached bringing the new shirt with her, he began praying. Aramis sat up and spoke the words louder and clearer than he had previously. The result was the same. A smile slowly spread over her face.

"It won't work."

"In Nomine Patris, et Filii," Aramis recited despite growing apprehension.

"Et Spiritus Sancti. Amen," Oriel finished the statement as she stared directly into his brown eyes. Her eyes sparkled with unnatural light. "If you're hoping I disappear or run screaming, it isn't going to happen. I'm not a demon and… to be honest, the prayers rarely work on most of them either."

Aramis' mouth dropped open. It took a minute or so for him to regain his composure. Her eyes dimmed and for a second he wondered if the recent happenings had all been a trick of the light. He leaned back in the bed and quickly considered his next step.

"I saw you holding the fire. What are you?" he said with a tone that was much more demanding than he felt.

Oriel shrugged and brushed her fiery hair away from her face with one hand. "I've been called many things, vila, fae, aos sí. No one can say for sure though."

"You… you want to take my soul?"

"I have no idea how one does that… and... what would I do with it?" Oriel said and without warning sat down on a corner of the bed. Instinctively, Aramis drew back and grimaced while hastily making the sign of the cross.

"Well?" Oriel asked breaking the uneasy silence that had overtaken the cottage. Aramis had expected anger, and possibly a show of flames from her hands. Instead, her tone was calm and Oriel's only reaction was a raised eyebrow.

They stared at each other in silence. It was Aramis who eventually broke and looked away sheepishly. Moments later, his head was covered by white cloth.

"A new shirt for you."

Aramis scrambled to remove the shirt from over his face. He had expected to find himself alone but Oriel was still there, looking out a window. As he sat upright with carefully measured movements. As much as he tried to suppress it, a cough escaped but Oriel's focus remained on the world outside the window.

"I… I'm sorry if I offended you," Aramis said. "You've only tried to help me."

The apology caught Oriel's attention and she turned to look at him. As she weighed the sincerity of Aramis' statement, he slowly placed on leg on the floor. The other soon followed. This time, when he coughed, she moved across the room and quickly offered him a cup to drink from. He looked at the contents warily. With another cough building in his chest, he took a drink.

In Paris, Treville was meeting with Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan. The captain had not assigned them to any tasks that were required in respect of the "loss" of their comrade. The trio had been free to try to find out what they could about Aramis' attackers. However, now that a week had passed, Treville informed them they would need to carry on with their official duties.

As Athos told Treville that members of the Red Guard were keeping unusually tight-lipped about recent goings-on. Not one had approached him or the others in the tavern and inquired about Aramis' whereabouts.

"It's as if they weren't expecting him to be there," Porthos said.

"If you want him to continue to be safe, you will not discuss what you know with anyone and speak little of it between yourselves," Treville advised.

Porthos' reply was cut short by the door to the room flying open. The musketeers and Treville lifted their heads in time to see Cardinal Richelieu swooping into the room. His robes swirled around him as he walked in the direction of Treville's desk.

The musketeers stepped aside as the Cardinal approached. Richelieu appraised the three of them with a cold, haughty look before addressing Treville. "Where is your musketeer Aramis?"

"What do you need him for?" Treville asked while the others shared furtive glances.

"I need to speak to him about a personal matter."

Treville considered his words carefully before speaking. "Yes… well, so do I. Unfortunately, he hasn't returned from Rennes."

"Maybe his comrades know his whereabouts?"

"We haven't seen him," Porthos offered boldly.

Athos shot him a warning glance. "In our search, we came across Aramis' cloak and sword in a stand of trees."

Treville gestured to a nearby table where he had placed Aramis' things. Richelieu took a few steps over and began to inspect the items. He picked up the cloak and shook it out. The Cardinal's hands gathered the material and brought it closer to his face to inspect the stains that mottled the garment.

"This looks like blood," the Cardinal announced.

"Yes," Athos agreed as his eyes met Richelieu's. "By the looks of it, Aramis must have been badly injured and lost his cloak."

"But you didn't find him?" Richelieu said.

"No. We ventured into the forest a good distance and didn't come across him," Athos replied.

"It's possible that Aramis made some enemies. He does have that tendency," Porthos said. As he spoke, he stood up straight and glared at the Cardinal.

Before things could escalate further, Treville jumped in. "He could've been set upon by robbers or possibly an irate husband. In either case, there has been no further sight of him after Rennes. He would not willingly give up his sword, so I must assume the worst."

"I see," the Cardinal replied with a nod. He turned his attention to the remaining musketeers and watched them slowly through narrowed eyes. "If you should happen to hear word of him, please let me know."

Athos bowed his head in agreement. He watched as Richelieu purposely strode out of the room and loudly closed the door. Now alone again, they all began speaking at once.

"He smiled upon learning that Aramis could be dead," D'Artagnan said. "He definitely was responsible."

"That may be true but we cannot accuse him. Richelieu has the King's ear and we will all end up executed."