The voice that would be heard from the other side of the door was a man’s. If the person knocking had expected a response coming from a woman, then he might be surprised to hear Derrin calling out, “Come in,” as if it were his own room. 

The healer was as tired as the rest of the riding party dispatched to answer to the flare that had roused Cannor the night before. However, his mind would not allow his body to rest. Perhaps it was due to his training as a healer, but he was generally more curious than most of the men that Cannor had adopted. Besides, this woman did what his years of work could not accomplish and it hurt his ego even though he would not admit it. 

Derrin came after Ysabel almost as soon as he had secured the little belongings that he brought with him to the trip to the mountain pass. The guards that Fraym dispatched were standing in attention when he arrived, but made no move to stop him as he entered the room. Inside the small space, he found the woman asleep on her stomach on the bed. Her face was turned away from him, but the hood of her heavy cloak was pushed back such that reddish brown locks spilled on the white pillowcase. He remembered feeling a pang of pity for her.

If she were awake when he arrived, he could have asked her a few questions to quell his curiosity even for just a bit, but she wasn’t. With a sigh, the healer slowly and gently rolled her to her back before pulling the covers over her shivering body. He remembered her saying that she was sick, but he didn’t realize how sick she was until then. Derrin sat at her bedside since then. He asked one of the men at the door to fetch supplies from his own study, then proceeded on studiously observing his patient. Her skin had gone ghastly clammy and pale, but perhaps she had been ghastly pale even in the mountains and he wasn’t paying attention. She was gritting her teeth as if she was in pain even while she slept. He frowned at his observations. None of these showed when Olivere and himself first found her sleeping alone with a stolen bag, then at the rook where the Winter's Children had hidden, she was still enthusiastic and healthy. Everybody present could attest to that, especially Gilly. And then before they left, she started exhibiting symptoms of an illness -- symptoms that were disturbingly similar to the wound fever of one bitten by a warg. 

But that was a few hours ago. “Come in,” Derrin called again in a calm voice, effectively masking the different emotions he was feeling all at the same time. By that time, he was still uncertain whether or not she was bitten by a warg, but what he could be sure of was that in such a short period of time, Ysabel had gone from shivering to a peaceful sleep. Her body temperature, which was disturbingly high when Derrin first came into her room, was now close to normal. This woman had a secret more intriguing than the concoction she made to cure Rannor.

Derrin got up from his seat and opened the door himself and there was the other curious thing that happened that morning. “Roran?” Derrin couldn’t help but say his name in a question, inviting the younger man to explain his presence. But his face broke into a knowing smile. Ysabel, save for her lack of breeding and sarcasm, was a rather beautiful woman anyway. “Can I trust you to look after our guest for a couple of hours? I am going to see the elders to report.” He leaned forward as if he was going to whisper to Roran, but Derrin's voice was loud and clear when he said, "I believe she's already awake. I wonder how long she plans on faking sleep."

Not that Ysabel thought faking unconsciousness would save her, but she did hope it would delay the inevitable. But now that she was found out, she stretched her legs and tentatively opened her eyes.