What Roran remembered of his upbringing was perhaps odd for some now. He remembered the stories his mother used to tell him. Paintings of the Kings and Queens, holding their place on the throne. How the mightiest battles were won with the Domas. She'd told him tales of how the most beautiful women were creations of Yaska. He could remember the legends of the God's own trials and fights, destroying the weaker gods to make place for their own world. Maybe he was even hurt by Ysabel's quick disregard for his belief in her. Maybe he was being too childish. 

He had little time to convince her, let alone get her to safety. He turned his back again and dropped his eyes to the ground. The thick cloth about his clothes would keep him warm, as it did every other on the fortress. After several months, the cold didn't bother many. Not at least until one journeyed into the mountains. His thoughts danced over his fantasies of a world filled with Gods, eventually clocking onto the sound of foot steps echoing. He lifted his head and turned back to Ysabel. He could only glance before Derrin appeared at the door. 

Roran stepped to the side, allowing the man leave to pass him. He stayed quiet, as was his place, and waited anxiously for the man to leave. Of course, however, he did not. Roran moved his eyes from Ysabel and turned back to Derrin. 
"Of course, I know. I'll wait til breakfast, it is too late for food now." He turned his attention back to Derrin and waited. Was he supposed to leave? Did they already know? "I can continue the watch here for the night, I am not tired." He commented, hoping that it would give Derrin the opertunity to leave. Ysabel needed to get out before anyone, even by the slightest chance, managed to assume the same he did. There may have been a chance that Roran's assumption wasn't correct, but he would continue to persuade her that The Wastes were the safest place.