In a hallway lined with tall windows, Azazel spotted Law.

The older, gruffer angel stood in a corner, holding his hat in one hand and chewing the fingernails of the other. When Azazel drew near, Law slipped his hat back on his head, spread out his arms, and invited the younger angel into a tight hug. “Oh, thank Rakos! She didn’t take you.”

Azazel shrugged and smirked. “I guess the goddess of death didn’t want me.”

“I guess not.” Law released him from the hug and held him out at arm’s length. “It’s good to see you walking again.”

“How much did this cost you?” Azazel asked.

Law scratched the back of his head and looked away. “Dr. Night owed me a favor, so I collected on that. Didn’t cost me a thing.”

“Good. Well, what happened to the city? Did we save the people?”

Law raised a hand to calm Azazel. “Relax, Ozz. I got free of the mob, then broke into the town hall and shot the sangrel. Her dogs too. The instant she was gone, the people of Godsmouth came to their senses and did in the few other demons remaining. By the time Metorael showed up, we’d fixed the flint, and he decided to spare the city.”

Azazel exhaled his relief. “Oh, thank the gods! ...What happened to Neji?”

Law slipped his hat off his head and held it in front of his chest. “Well, I don’t rightly know. After everything calmed down I went to look for her, but she was nowhere to be seen… Must’ve run away.”

Azazel’s brief hope that Neji had been killed in Godsmouth withered, and he immediately cursed himself for ever allowing such a hope to exist in the first place. Sure, she had done him wrong, but she was also his ally in that battle. One should never hope an ally will die.

Should they?

Even if that ally had betrayed them in such an egregious way?

He hated Neji, and every time his thoughts wandered back to her he wished she’d be burned alive in a fire, or get eviscerated by an enemy’s blade. Then he’d curse himself for wishing something so terrible on someone. Then he’d remember what she did to him, and both the pain and, if he was being honest, pleasure in the act. The pleasure disgusted him worst of all. He wanted to bathe in ice and fire every time he remembered how good it felt.

Law waved a hand in front of Azazel’s face. “Ozz… you’re staring into space. Don’t worry, I’ll find her and bring her to justice for what she done.”

Down the hall behind him, Azazel heard a door burst open and a parade of approaching footsteps. The young angel turned to see an entourage of men and women in chainmail armor marching down the hall. In the midst of them stood Lady Calimei, clad in a long-sleeved, high-collared, red dress, which hooped out at her hips as if she were a church bell. Beside her walked Zale, and both women’s eyes were fixed on Azazel as they approached.

When he first met her he thought he’d always be overjoyed to see her. Now all he could feel was the sucking pit in his stomach, the primordial gap which threatened to swallow everything he ever thought he was. Everything in their relationship was marred by betrayal now. His heart had betrayed her when he enjoyed, even briefly, what Neji did to him. And Lady Calimei, in turn, had betrayed him by keeping knowledge of what had happened in Godsmouth a secret from him.

It would take a lifetime and thensome to work through all the emotions inside to determine how he was supposed to feel upon seeing the woman he loved draw near that day. So, naturally, he’d not decided how to react by the time she stopped just a few paces before him.

Zale broke the silence between them. “You can stop staring in disbelief, your grace. She really is here. This is no dream.”

Azazel forced a smile, but the back of his throat ached and throbbed. “It is good to see you again, my lady.”

Lady Calimei reached out to his face with her hands. Azazel flinched and pulled away.

“Your wounds still pain you?” asked Zale.

“I… I’m afraid they do,” said Azazel. But that wasn’t the real question Zale was asking. She was really asking why Azazel had flinched at his love’s touch. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he knew the answer himself. The pain of his wounds was a worthy enough excuse, but it may have been wounds not of his flesh that he suffered the most.

Zale glanced around the room to all others present, then returned her eyes to Azazel. “My lady would like to speak privately with you, your majesty. Will you accompany her back to the carriage?”

Azazel hesitated a moment and glanced back at Law for guidance. The older angel didn’t seem to understand Azazel’s silent question. With no help from his older, more experienced friend, the young angel faced Zale again.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

The words felt like a lie the moment they left his lips.

Law patted Azazel on the shoulder. “Holler if you need me, brother.”

As Azazel followed Lady Calimei and her entourage of bodyguards through the halls, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a nearby window. The right half of his face was wrapped in bandages, even half his mouth was covered. His once long hair had been trimmed down to just an inch off his scalp, and it stuck up in corn-colored whisps. His one exposed eye was surrounded in a purple bruise, and scars from the dogs’ claws trailed down his cheek. The outfit he wore was a long, white shirt. Under its collar, he could see more bandages wrapped around his chest.

Sunlight blinded Azazel as he stepped out the hospital’s front door.

“Release me!” a man’s voice shrieked.

When Azazel’s eye adjusted to the light, he saw two women and one man, each in silver-colored uniforms with the symbol of Liita, goddess of magic, on the back. They held fast to the arms of a man in a patient’s uniform (like Azazel’s) who thrashed and flailed in a vain attempt to get away.

“Can’t even surrender with his dignity.”

The voice behind Azazel caused him to jump, and he turned to see Dr. Night standing at the hospital’s entrance.

The doctor looked up at Azazel’s face. “Don’t worry, dear boy. They arrested him for good reason. When I operated on him I found the kind of internal scarring you only see in someone who’s practiced blood magic for years, so I called the witch-hunters to collect him. If he cooperates, they’ll ‘re-educate’ him.”

“You bastards!” cried the prisoner.

“Doesn’t look like he’s being cooperative,” muttered Azazel.

“Yes…” Dr. Night stroked his own chin. “Oh well. None of our concern anymore.” He brushed his hands together, as if knocking dust off his palms. “Just a few parting words for you, as your doctor. The bandages should be ready to come off by tomorrow. Your face will probably still sting, granted, but it needs to get used to the air and sunlight. Try to touch it as little as possible with your fingers, lest you get it dirty and cause an infection. Also, take three healing potions a day.” The doctor reached into his coat and produced three small vials, each with an orange liquid inside.

Azazel took the vials and searched his body for a pocket. Upon finding he had no pockets, he resolved himself to simply hold the potions. “Thank you, doctor.” The glass vials clicked together as he tightened his grip and turned to enter the carriage door, held open by one of Lady Calimei’s bodyguards.

The carriage was made of dark, cold iron, and only a few slits in the walls acted as windows to let sunlight and air in. Azazel sat across from Lady Calimei, the two of them the only ones in the carriage.

Calimei held a seleni coin in one hand and waved her other at the walls around them. “No one c-c-c-can hear us now. We c-can sssspeak f-freely.”

“That’s good,” said Azazel.

A long silence followed. All the while, Lady Calimei stared at him as if expecting him to speak. He wanted to fill the silence, but everything on his mind proved far too difficult to turn into words. The thoughts would travel from his brain to his heart, then rise up to his throat again feeling like a stone lodged there.

Finally, Calimei broke the silence. “Ember’s been g-giving a g-g-good report about you.”

“Ember?”

Calimei nodded. “She’s been wrrrriting to me. She has a sssssendbox.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” Azazel forced a smile.

Again, silence between them.

“D-do you want t-t-to talk about it?” Calimei asked.

The sickness in Azazel’s stomach twisted inside. “Talk about what?”

“What happened in G-g-godsmouth,” said Lady Calimei. “It must’ve b-been t-t-terrible.”

“Yes it was…” said Azazel. “We fought swarms of humans under demonic control. All of them crazed, and ready to throw their lives away to get to us. I cut myself all over breaking through a window…” at these words Calimei winced, “...then got torn apart by dogs. But… you want to know the worst part? The most painful thing that happened?”

Lady Calimei nodded her head vigorously, concern and empathy in her eyes.

“I found out you don’t trust me,” said Azazel.

Lady Calimei covered her heart with her right hand. “C-come again?”

Azazel folded his arms and crossed his legs. “I tried to get the sangrel in control of that whole mess to surrender. She refused because you’d already sent agents to kill her. Agents she thought were mine.” Azazel’s brow furrowed, and Lady Calimei shrunk away from him. “You knew. You knew what was happening in Godsmouth, but you didn’t say a word to me. In all our letters back and forth, you never thought it important to tell your belov… your king… never told your king what was going on.”

“I… I was afraid,” Calimei said, just above a whisper.

“Afraid of what I would do?” Azazel scowled at her. “You said Ember gave a good report about me, and you saw first-hand what I was willing to do to free Brook Hold from that imp with as few casualties as possible. You were afraid… What could you possibly have thought I was going to do upon receiving the news about Godsmouth?”

“I didn’t know…”

“You must have had some idea!” Azazel snapped. “Could you really not tell…” tears formed in his eyes, but he fought to force them back. This proved impossible when he saw the same tears in Calimei’s eyes. “Didn’t you know by then the lengths I would go to? To protect my subjects?”

Calimei sniffed and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “Other angels ha-have d-d-done…”

Azazel’s heart and shoulders sank. A long silence followed her words and their implied conclusion. Both of them refused to look at each other, turning their attention instead to the narrow slits which constituted windows of the carriage.

“How can we be married…” Azazel began, his voice weak, “...if we can’t trust each other?”

Calimei sighed. “We c-can try. T-try to trust.”