The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 12: Visitor

She was in her room when the knock came, along with the soft voice saying, "You have a visitor."

Nemia didn't get visitors. Nemia got deliveries, sometimes, or more often she got Morie hurtling through her door ranting about something-or-other, and she got messages telling her to come to training earlier or to bring another weapon.

But a visitor? For what reason? Uncharted territory. She wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with it.

She picked a small dagger from the pile of weapons she'd just finished taking off and stepped silently to the door, her hand on the knob for several moments as she debated pretending she hadn't heard, wasn't there. It had been such a long day, and such a long few days before that.

Another knock on the other side, several soft raps. "Hello?"

She could feel the vibrations through the wood against her hand. Slowly, with the dagger raised but out of sight on the other side of the door, she pulled it open.

"Oh. There you are."

She didn't know who she'd expected, but it hadn't been Irina Laycreek. "Hello?"

"I came to talk to you." She looked at her, her face expectant, and Nemia realized she was probably supposed to invite her in now. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Why?" She asked nervously.

Irina looked a little surprised. "Why not?" She responded airily and stepped past her. No invitation needed, apparently. There was a moment as she surveyed the room, from its bare floor to the painfully neat table and chairs and cabinets. The bed, pushed against the far wall, was a mess of blankets, the only other glaring exception to the order besides the weapons piled on the table. The door connecting to Morie's room was cracked open and she had a sudden, forceful urge to slam it shut before Irina's sharp eyes could glance through.

Everything about Morie felt intensely private since she'd left, and she didn't trust this noble girl to walk through their rooms without stepping all over that.

Irina turned around, mouth open to say something but her eyes caught on the dagger in her hand and stayed. Nemia dropped it on the table, blushing. She didn't know if she was embarrassed to have been holding it or to have been caught.

"I... what are you doing here?"

She seemed to consider her words. "Well, I know your friend the Thief has... gone away. And I thought you might want someone to talk to."

There was nothing to say to that. She stared at her, struggling to think of something.

Irina looked at her almost sadly. Pity, probably. Nemia almost wanted to pull a Morie and snap at her, but she lacked the energy to do almost anything. "You can tell me to go away."

"I don't... I don't know you."

"That's not true. We don't know each other well, maybe, but I'm sure you remember me."

True. Nemia remembered her. The surprising part was that Irina remembered too. Nemia, after all, was decidedly unnoticeable. She curled up into herself, made no noise, took up no space. Even if people besides her friends had made an effort to talk to her she probably would have scared them off with her unnerving quiet.

"We had a little mock-fight a few years, on midwinter. I remember because it was my last practice before I quit."

She wanted Irina to leave, but she was only entrenching herself further in the room. Sliding into one of the two chairs at the table, she leaned over the pile of weapons, her hair swinging over them like an inky curtain.