A/N: I do apologise, dear readers, for the break between this chapter and the last... I have been typing up more and more, and yes, I'll admit, getting sidetracked by life in general. I want to thank those of you that have reviewed, and made this story a favourite, and followed - it's you that really motivated me to update. I hope you enjoy the next instalment...

Chapter Four

The group around Will had been debating the pros and cons of aircraft development for some time and while Will made occasional, non-committal noises, he felt exceedingly out of place. At the same time, the cool summer breeze calmed his nerves, the sounds of birds from the garden creating a peaceful backdrop to the opulent dance hall. Each time his eyes met Lyra's own, he felt that same jolt of electricity, and each time gained a quizzical look from her.

"You seem familiar Sir," she addressed him at last; "Do you attend these gatherings regularly?" She stared up into his face, obviously determined to unravel the cloak of mystery that surrounded him.

Upon glancing round at his fellow companions, he saw looks of surprise barely hidden under well rehearsed masks of indifference. The young gentleman escorting his Lyra, whom he had discovered was called Mr Scott, collected himself and gave a deep throated chuckle.

"Miss. Silvertongue, I hardly think that that is the right way to greet our guest…" He trailed off as her steely gaze met his. He seemed quite taken aback at such behaviour.

"Indeed, Sir," continued Lyra, as she switched her gaze back onto Will though her cheeks were turning rosy, "You have not even told us your name, and in polite company it is only proper of you to do so." She raised an eyebrow in question, but Will had been expecting this, and smiled.

"Well then, forgive me for I have not heard any of your names either." His gaze bore into hers, and she dropped her eyes, flushing and muttering a small, "Oh."

The young gentleman smiled, and in a rather reproachful manner said to Lyra, "I think it time for you to introduce yourself first."

Just as Lyra opened her mouth to form the first syllable Will found himself with an unexplainable pain in his arm. It was as though someone (or something) had just stabbed him. He once again found four pairs of eyes staring curiously at him, to which he replied, "Pulled muscle," with a grimace. He felt the same pain again, and muttered an involuntary "ouch," clutching his arm. Again, he dismissed their looks with a shake of the head, until Mr. Scott noticed.

"Good lord man, you're bleeding!"

To his, and everyone else's surprise, Will looked down at his arm, where the sharp pain had come from, and found four pricks of blood seeping through his shirt. His brow furrowed, and he glanced up towards the others, only to see his look mirrored on their faces as well.

For the third time, he felt a sharp pain, and watched as he began to bleed more copiously. He swivelled around to see what had caused him to bleed for no apparent reason.

Mr Scott seemed to be the first of them to gather his wits, shaking his head slightly, and saying, "Let's get you cleaned up, I'm sure there is someone that can provide us with some kind of medical aid."

Will could see that Mr. Scott had gone pale, and found it quite amusing to see such a calm collected man pale at the sign of blood. He glanced down, and saw that he was actually bleeding quite profusely, and so, with a nod to the ladies, Mr. Scott and Will departed.

They had barely reached the balcony doors, however, when Lyra hurried over to them.

"Mr. Scott! Please let me accompany you and…um," she glanced over Will, and he felt like all his secrets had been laid bare, "Let me come with you, it's getting rather chilly out here…" She trailed off and Will looked over her shoulder to see two murderous glances being directed at Lyra.

Mr. Scott smiled, "Miss. Silvertounge, it's hardly suitable for a young lady such as yourself to have to put up with this terrible gash…"

Lyra seemed insulted and replied curtly, "Oh for heaven's sake, it's only a bit of blood!" There was a pause as Mr. Scott stared at her. "Sir" she added, as an afterthought, and before he could reply, she grabbed hold of Wills arm, and steered him into the hall, Mr. Scott following behind like a lost puppy.

She smiled at Will, and he felt his insides squirm, a warm, familiar feeling rushing through his blood. "My name is Mr. Parry" he ventured.

She flashed him another polite smile.

"I'm not from around here," he prompted, hoping to refresh her memory.

Lyra led him through several doorways and towards the coat room, smiling politely as they passed distinguished looking guests. The polished floor and smell of perfumed ladies made Will feel woozy. He glanced down at Lyra's hand, firmly steering him away from the party. Perhaps that had something to do with his light-headedness as well.

Lyra stopped, and Will nearly crashed into her, just as Mr. Scott nearly crashed into the back of him.

"Here we are!" she announced, with a flourish of her hand. "I'm sure they will be able to help you here. I'll wait out here for you Mr. Parry, and I'm sure Mr. Scott can accompany you inside."

He smiled in gratitude as he and Mr. Scott moved past her and through the arch off to the side of the entrance hall near where the rest of the facilities were. Mr. Scott informed one of the maids, who hurried off to find some supplies. She fussed about Will, making him take off his shirt so she could examine the wound.

"We normally just get prissy girls in here, complaining about blisters, a sprained ankle or two, but I haven't seen anything like this at a ball before. May I enquire as to how this happened, Sir?" She babbled on. Before Will could open his mouth to reply, however, Mr. Scott replied; "It was a plant out on the balcony, I'd like to see them pruned better in the future, Madam."

The nurse glanced up at him. "Oh! My word! Mr. Scott, yes sir. I'll just leave you here to see to this young man while I speak to the management."

She left in a bustle of skirts and mutterings, leaving the two young men alone with an uncomfortable silence stretching out in front of them.

"What..." began Will, but Mr. Scott was already answering his unasked question in hushed tones.

"I'd advise you to be quiet concerning matters to do with what happened out on the balcony." Will tried to interrupt, but was stopped as Mr. Scott continued, "People here are very cautious about the unknown, Mr. Parry, and they do not take kindly to being told that things just happened out of the blue. Structured society needs to have reasons behind everything, and if there is no reasoning, they try to find some. No matter how obscure- they don't care, as long as there is a reason." He stressed the word reason, and once again, Will tried to stop him talking, but he hadn't finished yet. "I know, just as well as you that there is nothing outside that did that to you, and I also know that none of the ladies will mention anything, so I suggest you exercise caution, and do not mention this again."

He gave a curt nod, and he relaxed slightly, giving Will a small smile. "I will wait outside with Miss. Silvertongue for you, and let you redress yourself in peace." And with that he left, leaving a rather confused Will in his wake.

Will looked around the small room. He stared around, as if in a daze, and realised that this was the first time he had time to think about where he was since he had arrived to the ballroom. Wherever it was… He assumed it was in Lyra's Oxford. Somehow, he had travelled here by… by doing what, he wasn't so sure.

He picked up his shirt, and began putting it on, feeling cold in the room. He looked around, closed his eyes, felt the pain in his arm again, worse this time, and looked up at the dark ceiling in his bedroom.

Meanwhile, Lyra stood outside, pondering this strange meeting with this strange man. She had noticed that he had no dæmon, but didn't want to alarm anyone else, especially the man, by pointing it out. She hoped that he wasn't one of those from the labs in Bolvangar…but no; he seemed to be animated, too emotional, and too alive to be one of those poor people that were forever separated from their dæmon. Their soul.

She was joined by Mr. Scott, and they stood in silence for some time before he cleared his throat.

"Please don't start talking to me" thought Lyra desperately "There's something not right about that young man, and I need to think…"

Mr. Scott seemed to think better of the situation and shut his mouth, instead staring intently at the wood engraving on the door, his dæmon bobbing on his shoulder, its black eyes staring intently at her.

Pan snaked himself around her shoulders, his weight a comfort as she pondered the mysterious young man who was on the other side of the door. She prided herself on being quite a good judge of character- something that she had picked up on her adventures- but he managed to confuse her. Her stomach tied itself in knots when he merely glanced at her. She was sure that she had heard his name somewhere before, perhaps he was just another one of the pompous idiots in suits that the girls as St. Sophias like to gossip about. God knew how she could forget how wonderful Mr. Johnson was, or how sophisticated Mr. Dean had been.

She glanced at Mr. Scott, who seemed deep in concentration. She glanced at the clock. She glanced at the door. She heard a thud on the other side of the heavy wood door and yanked it open.

Kirjava paced around Will's prone form. She didn't like this, not one bit. She licked at the wound on his arm, and glanced down at the wound on hers. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but she was so worried. She had been snuggled up to his side, until her head began to spin. Bright lights, fragments of melodies and chatter. She wondered if it was Will's dream, so she tried to wake him up.

But he wouldn't wake. No matter what she had tried.

He stirred. Moaned.

Will stared at the dark ceiling. He didn't remember the ceiling of the room being this near.

He sat bolt upright as if scalded, "Lyra!" Kirjava fell off the bed with a hiss, and Will finally realised where he was. Springing from his bed, he scooped Kirjava up in his arms and strode to the window. Setting her down on the windowsill, he exhaled loudly as he looked out across Oxford. It was still pitch dark, and as he glanced at his luminous clock, it blinked out 11:30.

"It must have been a dream", he muttered as he tiredly rubbed his eyes.

"Well. I didn't like it", mewled Kirjava as she brushed her tail under Will's nose, "I didn't mean to hurt us though…" She sighed and curled her tail around her feet.

Will looked down at his arm, where Kirjava had scratched him.

The bandage was still there.

A/N: Thank you for baring with me! I hope this satisfied your story cravings. I'm going to prioritise getting as much written/edited as I can today so updates will be more frequent. In the mean time, please review- it's nice to know I'm not writing into a void!