The reaction was instantaneous and, to Maevus, rather chilling. As soon as the guild-members got a glimpse of Voron's green uniform, they went dead silent. Vraylor adjusted his grip on Voron, jostling him in a way that made Maevus flinch.

"Your Imp is heavy," Lorn gritted out, tossing the comment over his shoulder.

"He's not mine," Maevus muttered, ducking her head and stuffing her hands in her pockets. Briefly, she wondered if there would ever come a time when her passage through the main hall wouldn't attract every single eye in the place.

Then, the muttering followed. Vraylor looked up, making eye contact first with Maevus, then whoever happened to be nearest. None of the gazes he met seemed particularly welcoming. He inhaled, then shouted, "No reason to get excited, boys and girls. Please hold all questions, comments and testimonials until..." He looked down at the unconscious guard he was carrying, then shook his head, looking suddenly exhausted. "Until I get this shit sorted."

There was another collective murmur as everyone turned to whisper with their neighbor, watching the group's progress toward the stairs. When they reached the base, Lorn asked, "Infirmary?"

Vraylor shook his head, again struggling to get a better grip on Voron's torso. His hand slipped and Maevus swore as Voron thudded to the ground, head smacking off the first step. 

"You did that on purpose," Maevus said, kneeling beside Voron. The guard groaned, but didn't wake up.

Vraylor huffed. "Yes, Maevus. I dragged your Imp all the way in here with the intention of just dropping him on my stairs. I think he'll make a nice carpet. How 'bout it, Lorn?"

Panting, Lorn leaned back against the wall, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think he clashes with the drapes."

"Very funny," Maevus grumbled. Looking up, she blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Why aren't we taking him to the infirmary? That seems like the place we should take him."

"No locks," Vraylor said, stepping over Voron and shuffling back and forth as he tried to decide how to pick the other man up. 

Maevus shot him a furious glare. "He doesn't need to be locked up!"

Both Lorn and Vraylor flinched as her voice shot through a few octaves. Maevus shook her head, red hair whipping back and forth. If Voron's experience in Iressa had been anything like hers, being locked in a room would be not just unbearable, but soul-breaking.

Vraylor sighed. "Maevus..."

"No." She would take him somewhere else if she had to. "He doesn't need to be locked up."

"He's an imperial guard, Maevus," Lorn said, voice low and hard. "We can't trust him. There are kids here."

"He's not gonna eat them!" Maevus cried in exasperation. "He's not gonna do anything. He can't bloody do anything." She turned toward Vraylor, desperation beginning to curdle her stomach as Voron's breath grew more strained. "He can...he can stay in my room. Or—or..."

"No." The one word seemed to rattle the air like a commandment. Even Lorn flinched at the power that suddenly snapped around them.

Maevus' throat tightened, her mind scrambling as second-hand fear grabbed hold of her.

"We'll take him up to one of the dorm rooms," Vraylor said. He rubbed a hand down his face, that icy gaze falling on Voron, who was still laying at his feet. When Maevus opened her mouth to protest, Vraylor held up a hand. "We're not locking him up, Maevus, but he's not gonna be allowed free rein in here, just as much for his safety as everyone else." His voice rose when Maevus tried to interrupt again.

She scowled and heaved a sigh. Then she frowned, eyebrows drawing together as she processed the last bit of his little speech. "What do you mean by that?"

Vraylor and Lorn exchanged a glance.

"What he means is there are a lot of people who hate the Greenies and the guards even more. Most with good reason," a third voice said, making Maevus jump and look over her shoulder. A lean figure stood in the doorway, face hidden by the hood of a cloak. "And some who might act on it."

Maevus slowly got to her feet, shifting so she was standing between Voron and the newcomer. "And would you be one of those people?"

The barest hint of a smirk lifted Volt's lips. "Not worth the hell it would rain down on me. Or the guild."

Lorn suddenly swore, scrubbing a hand over his hair again. "You don't think they'll come looking?"

"Won't."

Maevus gasped and looked down to find that Voron had flickered back to consciousness and was staring up at her, eyes glassy.

"What do you mean?" Vraylor asked, crouching down on the step just above Voron.

Voron's eyes slid closed again, but he managed to slur, "Told me not to come back, 'til Maevus had her sword."

"Who told you?" Vraylor asked, but Voron had plunged back toward unconsciousness. Vraylor growled before pointing at Lorn and Volt. "Take a leg."

It surprised Maevus when Volt stepped forward without a word, grabbing Voron's right leg while Lorn grabbed his left. On Vraylor's count, they lifted him and began to make their way up the stairs. Maevus tried to keep a close eye on the guard, but soon had to turn her attention to getting herself up the stairs.

Her legs felt like jelly and there was a wicked stitch in her side by the time she hit the landing. Maevus leaned against the wall, dragging in ragged breaths that burned the back of her throat. More swearing and heavy steps from above her let Maevus know the men had continued onto the next staircase, climbing toward what she assumed where the men's dorms.

Gritting her teeth, Maevus moved toward the next flight. Her fingers gripped the railing, pulling herself up the stairs through sheer willpower. Maevus' world narrowed to the next step in front of her, then the next and the next.

Until there were no more stairs.

Her muscles ached fiercely, reminding her that she was nowhere near recovered from her magic being drained in Liron. Maevus leaned against the wall and braced her hands on her knees, fighting against the sudden urge to spew her dinner across the floor. Looking up, she could see light spilling from an open doorway at the very end of the hall.

Swearing, she began the long trek down the hall, tripping as her feet scuffed along the shiny floorboards. Halfway there, she had to lean against the wall to keep herself upright.

"You're gonna make yourself sick."

She was too tired and sore to even flinch. Maevus lifted her head wearily to find Volt standing in the middle of the hall, arms crossed over his chest. The dark cloak he wore rippled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Maevus shook her head, leaning harder against the wall. It was the only thing between her standing and hitting the floor, the bout of energy she'd used talking to Voron and Vraylor catching up with her.

Shock rippled through her when an arm wrapped around her waist, the other sweeping under her legs. Maevus clung to Volt's shoulders out of reflex. He turned and began making his way back down the long hall, carrying her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, too tired to fight against him. Besides, he was taking her exactly where she wanted to go anyway.

Volt didn't reply and Maevus tipped her head back, trying to get a glimpse of his face. The low hood still cast the upper half of his face in shadow. All Maevus could really see was the straight, fine line of his nose, but nothing of his eyes. Resting her head against his shoulder because she was too tired to hold it up, she allowed herself to study what she could see, now that she was looking at him without wanting to kill him.

His lips—when they weren't pressed into a grim line—were, in Maevus' opinion, annoyingly nice to look at. There was an equilibrium between the top and bottom lip that drew the eye, making it want to trace their shape. His jaw was strong, but drawn in fine lines. Maevus would have bet all of her newly-earned money that the rest of his face was just as lovely.

Which only begged the question of why he insisted on hiding it. In Maevus' experience, the beautiful flaunted their looks. They rarely downplayed them, and never hid them. Beauty was a precious commodity throughout the world. Those who possessed such looks usually benefited from them.

"Do you have a scar?" she asked, lips moving and words over her tongue before she'd decided to speak. Maevus frowned, thinking her exhaustion must be making her brain cloudy.

Volt's head tilted slightly in what Maevus assumed was curiosity. It looked like a curious sort of tilt.

"Is that why you hide your face?" she asked, thinking she might as well finish what she'd started.

Silence pervaded the limited space between them for a moment. Then, the Storm-Charmed Encant set Maevus on her feet just outside an open door.

"No." He turned on his heel and walked back down the hall. Maevus frowned, not knowing if he'd answered her first question, or her second one. 

A low groan from the room drove the thought from her mind and she hurried through the open door. She squeezed past Lorn so she could stand at the foot of the bed, worried eyes pinned on Voron.