A soft knock sounded at her door. It would only be Nikolas with her breakfast, but at least this made her feel less isolated. She stood up, prepared to let him in, but she had taken only a step when ...
“Journeyor? May I come in?”
Wynn froze at the low voice coming from the other side of the door. She knew that voice, and it certainly didn’t belong to Nikolas. She had to respond in some fashion, so she just went and opened the door.
There was Captain Rodian standing outside, with Lúcan at attention just left of the doorframe. The captain’s red tabard looked freshly pressed. His close beard was evenly trimmed, and his neck looked as if it had been shaved early that morning. But his expression was uncertain, and just a hint of dark rings encircled his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well.
Wynn remembered a night last autumn when Rodian had locked her in a cell at the second castle. He’d come later that same night, asking permission to enter, as well. Why even bother, since she had no choice? Even here, this wasn’t really her room anymore. Mild hysteria grew as she wondered what he’d do if she just told him to go away.
When she didn’t speak, Rodian’s brow wrinkled. He glanced at Lúcan, who said nothing, and the captain whispered something to his corporal. Lúcan nodded and turned away, and Wynn heard him heading down the passage to the stairs.
“Please,” Rodian said, still waiting in the passage.
Wynn sighed, leaving the door open as she took a few steps back. He entered and then glanced back at the door, as if caught between leaving it open or not. Finally, he closed it, and they were alone.
“Journeyor,” he said again, and then paused.
This did not seem like a good thing to Wynn.
Rodian had always struck her as almost comically determined to present a professional front, as if the scuffle with Chane last night and the sight of Dorian dragging her off had never occurred.
Wynn had no idea what he was doing here. With no intention of helping him or offering any encouragement, she just stood there beside the bed, waiting.
“Why has the council confined you?” he asked.
“You’d have to ask them.”
“I have.”
“Well, then, you know more than I do.”
His gaze was intense, and Wynn wavered. He’d sounded concerned, as if worried about her. If that was true, then why had he done everything the council asked of him, aside from taking over control of her confinement? Why had he locked down the guild grounds?
Rodian shook his head and stepped closer. “You must have done something—or something must have happened connected to you—for the council to call me.” His patience suddenly vanished. “Wynn, talk to me! What happened here last night?”
What could she tell him—that a dhampir, a half-elven ex-assassin, and a Fay-born majay-hì returned to her and panicked the Premin Council? And then she’d been forced to sneak out the vampire who’d been hiding in her room?
Oh, yes, that would just fix everything.
Even if Rodian believed any of it—if he didn’t ask a hundred more questions in turn—she didn’t believe those things had anything to do with why she’d been locked up.
“I returned from a long journey south,” she finally answered. “While there, I went farther than ordered in my own exploration, without guild sanction or knowledge. I think now they know more than I realized, and they want me to admit everything ... and I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because of dark comings they don’t want to acknowledge. And the more I tell them, the more they’ll be able to get in my way. You, of all people, should understand that.”
“If you won’t give them what they want, then why haven’t they just dismissed you, thrown you out?”
Wynn smiled at him without a trace of humor. “Because they’d lose control over me.”
Rodian rubbed his brow and turned a circle, as if wishing to pace but finding the small room too confining.
“Are you going to keep on doing what they want?” she asked. “Keep on serving them in this?”
She should’ve known better than to try turning all of this on him. He was now one of her obstacles.
“Have they mentioned any formal charges to be made against you?” he asked.
“Not to me. I wouldn’t know what they’ve mentioned to you.”
Rodian didn’t respond to this. “There’s more to this than your errant mission,” he said. “Something happened here last night. Even if small events seem irrelevant, you need to tell me what led to—”
The door slammed open, and High Premin Sykion stood in the opening, her wide eyes instantly fixed on Rodian.
“Captain,” she said with surprising calm. “May I have a word with you ... outside?”
Rodian’s carefully constructed professionalism flickered.
Wynn wondered if he might not drag Sykion into the room and demand answers here and now. But the flicker passed, and his staunch professionalism resurfaced.
He nodded politely to the premin and then turned back to Wynn. “One of mine will be outside your door at all times. Should you ever find that this has changed without hearing from me first ... do your best to let me know, if I do not hear of it myself in short order.”
Sykion’s eyes narrowed with a twitch.
Rodian spun about, facing the premin, but he didn’t move until she turned away down the passage. He followed the premin and shut the door.
The truth of the situation struck Wynn in the face. Rodian had no respect for the Premin Council, only formal politeness and ethical conduct, and he didn’t care for sages in general. Their ways went against his spiritual beliefs and philosophy, yet he was faithful to his oath of service above all else.
She had seen evidence of this more than once, though she hadn’t always understood it for what it was. Now he once again acquiesced to the council ... or rather to others, as he had been pressured into two seasons ago when she had been hunting the wraith.
This was not be the first time she had seen this contradiction in Rodian’s conduct—nor the first time someone else had intervened in favor of the Premin Council. That had to be the only answer.
Captain Rodian was being pressured again by the royals of Malourné, perhaps Duchess Reine Faunier-Âreskynna directly. And the royals would protect the guild’s ... protect Sykion’s interests at any cost.
In spite of it all, and Rodian’s likely being pressed into actions that bent his oath of office, Wynn felt strangely bereft with the captain gone. What was her world coming to if she started thinking of the captain as even a tentative ally? Was she that alone now?
She rushed to the door and pressed her ear against the wood, straining to hear whatever was taking place out in that passage. It seemed Sykion had moved them both too far down the passage toward the stairs. Wynn only picked up the muffled sounds of Rodian’s short, clipped words and Sykion’s longer, soft responses.
Rodian’s voice grew suddenly sharp, and Wynn heard him bark, “As I see fit!” Silence followed that, though she remained pressed against the door in uncertainty.
The captain had obviously disliked, rejected, whatever the premin had said. She’d somehow pushed him too hard, and he’d shoved her back. But he was clearly under pressure from more than just the guild. He wouldn’t bend completely to whatever Sykion had said, but neither was he willing to break loose from what the royal family expected. Until that latter part changed, Wynn could expect little help from Rodian.
She abandoned all thoughts of him as an ally and hurried to her desk. No matter how she might feel, she wasn’t completely on her own, not so long as she had quill, ink, and paper. She scribbled a quick note and folded it up, but wrote no address on its outside. It wasn’t long before another knock came at her door. Either it was the captain returning for some reason or the one other person she expected.