She watched the musketeers leave, then looked around. Oriel peered into the trees and surveyed the area surrounding the cottage. Seeing no one and hearing nothing, she went back inside
Once inside, Oriel approached the bed and observed her guest. Aramis' pallor remained noticeably off but she noted his breathing had become less labored and more even. She knew this was helped partly by the herb mixture she had given him earlier.
Oriel removed the damp cloth from his forehead and gently brushed his dark hair back. While he was still feverish, it wasn't raging as before. Her eyes studied his face. Underneath the dirt and bruises, it was obvious he was quite handsome. Oriel wondered how many other men wanted to kill him besides the Cardinal. She took the cloth and did her best to remove some of the grime that had settled on his features. Oriel then rinsed the cloth and wrung it out before replacing it on Aramis' forehead. With a final concerned glance at her patient, Oriel walked outside to gather more yarrow.
With fresh flowers in hand, Oriel redressed the wound and examined the bruises on Aramis' side more closely. Not wanting to cause him additional pain, she gently ran her fingers over the darkly mottled area. There wasn't an obvious break and Oriel breathed a hopeful sigh of relief.
The musketeers rode along in silence until they approached the main road. Once in the wide-open space, D'Artagnan couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "We shouldn't have left Aramis there alone."
Porthos and Athos reined in their horses and turned. While they each had their reservations about leaving their friend behind, neither had voiced it aloud.
"You said she isn't what she seems," D'Artagnan said with a pointed look at Porthos.
Athos looked over at Porthos, his eyebrow arched. It had been a trying few days and it took all his restraint not to shout. "What exactly does that mean?"
"I was probably mistaken," Porthos replied and shook his head slightly. D'Artagnan protested again causing Athos to demand an explanation.
"When I was a child, I heard stories about those woods… and what lives there," Porthos finally admitted. He went on to reveal bits and pieces of the tales about the Broceliande and the fae who resided there. Athos laughed as he listened, his face visibly brightening.
"Stories and superstition… nothing more," Athos said. D'Artagnan and Porthos shared a dubious look.
"You didn't see her eyes," Porthos countered. He disclosed the way Oriel's eyes appeared to glow with an inhuman light as she rebuffed his offer to stay.
"Light filtering through the trees. She is as human as any of us; she just learned herb lore," Athos replied.
Oriel spent the afternoon and early evening trying to clean Aramis' pants in the spring. While they were still serviceable, she hadn't been able to rinse out all the mud and muck. As she left the pants to dry on a patch of grass, Oriel knew she would also have to replace her guest's shirt soon. Two possibilities came to mind immediately and as she returned to the cottage, she mulled over the consequences of each.
As evening fell, Oriel had come to a decision; she would speak to Lucifer. With any luck, he was sure to know about the Cardinal. She was also almost certain she could convince the devil to procure a shirt for her visitor.
The cottage was dark aside from the small fire Oriel had burning when Aramis awoke. He was in a bit of a stupor thanks to some lingering effects of the herb-laced wine. He turned his head and blinked to clear his eyes while he tried to focus on the area of light. Despite the darkness, Aramis was almost certain he wasn't in the forest where he had been set upon. He was also sure that near the light was a woman sitting and looking out the window.
Aramis wanted to speak but found himself exhausted from even the small movements he had made. As he tried to shift around, his side blazed with pain. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. When he opened them again seconds later, whoever was sitting near the fire was gone. He tried to look around his surroundings to determine if he was truly alone but sleep soon overtook him again.
When Aramis awoke again, the cottage was lit with daylight. He discovered that his head and vision were much clearer but when he turned his head, there was no one sitting near the fire. Again, he tried to move, and again he found himself riddled with pain. This time, he pressed his head into the pillow and groaned aloud.
Oriel arrived in time to see Aramis' second attempt at sitting up. She shook her head in silence, a look of frustration on her face. Sensing he was no longer alone, Aramis slowly opened his eyes. An unusually bright pair of teal eyes stared back. "You need to stay still so that your wound doesn't re-open."
Aramis sunk back in the bed and automatically looked towards his side which was now beginning to throb with pain. As he reached for the cloth covering the wound, Oriel rushed over and pulled his hand back. Her grip was firm, yet gentle and Oriel said a silent prayer that he wouldn't fight to break free. If he were to learn that she was not quite human, she hoped it was in a way that didn't require force.
The effort to sit up and move had exhausted Aramis and he didn't struggle against her grasp. Oriel felt his arm relax as he did his best not to wince from the pain in his side. She gently placed his hand by his side and stepped away. Aramis tried to speak but all that escaped his lips was a hoarse gravelly whisper.
Oriel brought a cup containing a mixture of wine and water to Aramis. She helped as he propped himself up on an elbow to make it easier to take a sip and held the cup. As Aramis, slid back into the bed, Oriel asked if she could finish cleaning the dirt from his face. He nodded and she rose to get some water.
There was no mistaking it, he was handsome despite looking ill. His dark eyes intently focused on her own as she wrung out a clean cloth and wiped away the remaining dirt from his face. Oriel smiled serenely and continued rinsing away the bit of dust and muck that clung to his neck and collarbone.
Aramis cleared his throat and attempted speech. He found he had his voice although it was weak. "Your name?"
"Oriel. And yours?" she asked already knowing the answer.
"Aramis."
Oriel then asked for permission to change the dressing on his wound and clean it more thoroughly. "You didn't ask before," he replied and pointed to the cloth. A sudden cough punctuated the sentence causing Oriel to frown and Aramis to wince.
"I thought you might want to live," Oriel retrieved a clean piece of cloth and the yarrow she had picked that morning. As she moved around the small room, Aramis' eyes followed. Her hair was long and the color reminded him of a burning fire. With each step, shades of red, orange, gold and brown seemed to come alive on every strand.
"This will probably hurt," she warned before removing the piece of cloth covering his side.
"I've been… through… worse." Aramis' jaw clenched as Oriel began removing pieces of flower. Some blooms had dried to the wound and she did her best to gently pry them up without inflicting more pain. Her eyes ran over his chest and took in the scars, but although curious she didn't ask how they occurred.
"Stitch it closed," he said as Oriel placed some fresh yarrow on the wound. The sentence was punctuated with another cough.
"Not until the fever is gone." She studied his face carefully with a concerned look before standing up. Moments later, Oriel was urging Aramis to take a sip from the cup she handed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he had watched her add something to the watered-down wine and it made him wary. She assured him it would help with the fever and allow him to sleep better.
Aramis knew he was in no shape to put up a fight and he eventually gave in and took a few small sips. His expression turned to a grimace as he swallowed. Oriel nodded and took the cup away. When Aramis fell back asleep, she placed a clean cloth atop the yarrow and left him alone to rest.
Outside the cottage, the sound of beating wings made Oriel stop walking. She looked up towards the sky and saw nothing among the branches of the trees. She then looked around and found herself alone. Scowling, she began to walk around the far side of the cottage when a voice called out from near the opposite corner of the house.
"Why must you always choose to live as far from civilization as possible?"
Oriel spun around. The voice belonged to a tall, extremely handsome man dressed in clothes that would be well suited to royalty. His dark hair was longer than she remembered and it hung in loose curls.
"Because civilization is generally far from civilized," Oriel replied. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."
"Well… torture every day can be torturous, even in hell, and since you obviously miss me so much… here I am."
Oriel rolled her eyes at her visitor's pronouncement and preening, and bit back a retort. As he turned towards the cottage door, she entwined her arm with his and steered him in the other direction. "Then there's no need to rush back to the torture, is there?"
The man's eyes darted back and forth from the cottage to Oriel a few times as they walked. He stopped walking and studied his companion closely. Oriel returned his look with wide-eyed innocence and watched as he smiled mischievously and brushed her hair away from her face. They were both keenly aware that she was purposely keeping him from the cottage.
"You know how I feel about these nature walks of yours," he said.
"Yes, Lucifer, I know. Insects; rocks right where you want to step; low hanging branches to mess your hair. Sounds almost like hell." Oriel lightly laughed and watched as the devil's eyes quickly flashed red before reverting to their usual dark brown.
"I didn't call on you for a quick romp. I wanted to ask you something."
"Talk to me? I passed on a good rack stretching, so you can talk to me?"
"Stop flashing your eyes at me. You assumed," Oriel said.
After uttering a swift agreement, Lucifer demanded to know what she wanted to ask him and why she was trying so hard to keep him away from the cottage. Oriel let go of his arm and explained the recent events starting with musketeers pounding on her door and ending with Aramis currently sleeping inside her home.
"Why do you always feel this need to help them?" the devil asked as he shook his head.
"He was brought here and near death. I couldn't let him die." Lucifer shrugged and muttered under his breath that she could have done just that.
"What do you know about a Cardinal Richelieu?" Oriel asked ignoring his jab.
"Richelieu? He wants to run this country. Why?"
"I was told he was responsible for this," she replied. "How did I know that you would know him?"
"Because I have a wide circle of acquaintances."
"Because you always know people who have inflated egos. The kind of people who would rather kill the man their mistress was with than admit they might not be quite up to the task."
Lucifer laughed. "Now I must see him. Richelieu's mistress is quite beautiful. The Cardinal was way out of his league."
"And I'm sure you had nothing to do with the match."
The devil didn't answer and began walking towards the cottage. Oriel took his silence as confirmation. She hurried to step in front of him and did her best to hold Lucifer back from his mission. After listening to her continued protests, Lucifer agreed not to go inside. Instead, he peered into the window. His preternatural eyes were able to see the interior clearly, including Aramis as he slept on Oriel's bed with only a thin sheet covering him below the waist.
"I see why you decided to help him."
"Why would someone with aspirations to rule the country waste time trying to murder their lover's lover?" she asked.
"You really must get interested in politics," Lucifer explained that as a musketeer, Aramis worked for the King and it was his sworn duty to protect the King. Richelieu's goals would be reached much easier with fewer obstacles including loyal servants to the crown.
Oriel's eyes narrowed and she stared at the devil. She was certain that the Cardinal had probably made a deal with the devil but she wasn't ready to ask just yet. "When he recovers a bit, he'll need a shirt."
"Pity," Lucifer answered as he looked in the window. "I would think you'd like to keep him without a shirt as long as possible."
"Will you help me with that or not?"
"Are you asking me for a favor?" he inquired with a teasing smile.
"Not at all. I'll ask Mael. He or another aos sí will give me one without a second thought," Oriel replied.
Upon hearing Mael's name, Lucifer bristled. All joviality disappeared and he became suddenly serious. "I will make sure you have a shirt for your charge."
"Thank you. I'll make it up to you at some point," she said and kissed his cheek.
The devil nodded and gave her a wicked grin. He then turned suddenly serious again. "Be careful, Oriel. The Red Guard will be looking for proof he is dead. Richelieu will not let anyone get in his way, even you."