Mirelda help her. It seemed to Ysabel, during the night in the mountain pass, that healing Rannor was such a brilliant idea. She thought that a charitable gesture would entitle her free pass to Andor, inclusive of few days accommodations courtesy of the Winter’s children. Then again, as the hours ticked by, Ysabel was more and more convinced that what she did the night before was just plain stupid. She should have just listened to the voice in her head reminding her not to be the hero.

The woman sat up on the narrow bed as her blonde visitor shut the door behind him. The bed was not uncomfortable, and the thick blanket provided her with little warmth, but she decided against surrendering to the temptation. Soon, the orphans would come for her and her answers. There was no point in faking unconsciousness, she might as well start studying her room and planning a possible escape route. 

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders even as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Her boots, she discovered, were removed by Derrin and were currently neatly placed at the side of the bed. She still wore layered clothing with visible tears on the arms and parallel gashes on her left side, where a warg sunk its claws. How could these people survive in that frozen wasteland? It was so cold she doubted she could fight without her teeth chattering or her punch shaking. Then again, she was not very good at hand-to-hand combats. She much preferred using the sword – a weapon that she realized she was missing. And what if the blonde had plans other than looking after her? 

Her eyes narrowed at his visitor. She remembered some of the men calling him Roran. Fair coloring and average in height and build, he was not the perfect guard, but compared to her skinny arms, he ought to be effective. He looked uncertain even for somebody who had an advantage. 

“What do they not know?” she asked back, inclining her head to one side, faking a puzzled look. Her voice sounded raw, perhaps another effect of the infection. Faking ignorance was her first line of defense, but she knew it would not hold under the pressure of interrogation. 

Roran knew something, he was suspecting. Perhaps he saw through her lie and noticed what she had hoped she artfully concealed. Ysabel remembered him from the night before as the one who told her that she wasn’t safe. What did he know? 

It didn’t matter for now, she decided. “What will you do to me?” she asked in a quiet voice at the same time her body shivered because of the chilly air. Her fists tightened on the blanket. Fear showed in her eyes, but she dared not to look away from Roran. “I mean no harm. I mean only to return to Horngul through the sea.” Which was the truth, but she allowed her voice to crack and her emotions show as she added, “I lost the people I consider as my family on the mountain pass. I cannot anymore make it back the way I came. I ask not your help, but that you allow me to be on my way.”

Yaska help her. She was trying to deceive another man. Not that she didn’t mean the words she said, it was that she was exploiting one of the known vulnerabilities of a man which was his ego. She would play the part as the weaker gender in distress and he can be the hero who will save her. In the real world, she hated when a man does that, but she lived with men long enough to understand that it was hard to resist showing off a man’s superiority.

((No problem :) I'm trying to respond faster. Maybe in my next reply.))