Nyaira lazily waved away Illyad’s request. “Whatever you wish.” Despite her nonchalant tone, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Something was not right. Even so, she had come too far to stop now. It could easily have been a ploy to get her to leave. All the same, as she slowly went through the remaining few rooms--the bathroom, Illyad’s room--she kept a wary eye out for any tricks or traps. The girl’s scent lingered in the bathroom, but the warlock’s bedroom was devoid of her smell.
	Slowly, with a glance back down the hall, keeping an ever wary eye on the two men, she reached for the doorknob of the guest room in which Victoria hid, curled in the corner of a closet, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to still both it and her breathing.