Angel's POV
We walked back to the camp in silence, our hands still clasped together. The warmth of his palm against mine was both comforting and unsettling, making my heart do strange, fluttery things.
When we reached the tent, Uriel released my hand slowly, as if reluctant to let go. The loss of contact left my skin feeling cold.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his intense eyes searching my face with genuine concern.
"Yes," I whispered, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true.
I glanced around the camp, noticing for the first time that I was the only one with a tent to myself.
"Why am I the only one with a tent?" I asked, guilt creeping into my voice.
Uriel followed my gaze, then smiled slightly. "The priestess insisted on it. She said after everything you've been through, you deserved at least this small comfort."
The priestess. The woman who had come into the church and delivered that disastrous announcement that destroyed my life.
"But everyone else…"
