Chapter 7 Wren
Wren
The first thing I learn about being a prisoner in a colonel’s house is that privacy is apparently a luxury I don’t qualify for.
“I don’t need an escort to pee,” I grumble as I rattle the doorknob, tired of waiting for him to agree with my boundaries.
My thighs shift together uncomfortably. I can’t keep up this staunch desire for privacy much longer, or it won’t matter.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” a dry voice answers from the other side of the door. “You need me for everything outside that room, including trips to the latrine.”
“Derrick,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “We’ve been over this. I’m not going to set the house on fire between here and the bathroom as a distraction.”
“That’s not on the list of things I’m worried about,” he says. “Try again.”
I narrow my eyes at the door between us and let my hand drop from the locked knob. “You think I’m going to sprint past you and bolt to the front door that has not one, but two guards at it to avoid?”
“I think,” he replies dryly, “that the colonel told me, and I quote, ‘I don’t trust anyone else with this, so please don’t let anything happen to her,’ so here I am, making sure you are safe and secure at all times.”
The mention of Ryoden sends a small shiver of something complicated through my chest. I swallow it down and rattle the door knob a little harder, more out of pettiness than any real attempt to escape.
“Derrick, this is ridiculous.”
A faint click from the outside lock sounds and I barely have enough time to step back before the door swings inward, revealing my newfound scowling friend.
His dark curls are coiled neatly atop his head and his amber eyes drag my focus in immediately.
The rays of light from the setting sun streaming through my window give them such a beautiful hue and compliment his warm, tawny skin.
His full lips thin as his eyes scan me in a disinterested, logical way, like he’s checking to make sure I didn’t somehow harm myself within my room.
It’s almost offensive the way he seems to think I’m just some bumbling, incapable woman. Yet, somehow I’m also being treated like a dangerous threat. The two logics don’t align.
“I agree, this conversation should have been over thirty minutes ago,” he retorts.
Pinned to the breast of his neatly pressed gray uniform is a shining, singular medal and I can’t help but ask, “Does it bother you to be forced to guard me when you clearly are high ranking here?”
From what I’ve gathered, I think this man is only second in the chain to Ryoden himself in this city. It feels like a waste of their resources to have him here, with me, concerned over my need to pee.
He raises a single dark brow, ignoring me and countering with, “Do you want to pee yourself, or do you want to agree to the rules? Whatever you choose doesn’t impact me, so just let me know.”
My eyes narrow of their own accord at his barely contained sass.
“We are on the second floor,” I point out as I lift a hand to my hip. “Where could I possibly escape from in the bathroom?”
From the walk in, I already know it’s located on this same floor at the end of the hall.
There’s a pause, then a faint shrug. “Window.”
I stare at him blankly before blinking rapidly. “You think I’m going to jump out a second-story window,” I say slowly, “onto solid ground, for the vague thrill of possibly breaking both my legs and being dragged back in here, looking even more guilty?”
His mouth tilts up in the barest hint of a smirk. “I don’t know you. Maybe you’re the dramatic, non-critical-thinking type.”
There it is. Clearly no one here thinks I’m a physical danger. So that means what Ryoden is concerned about is the information I possess being dangerous, and if I’m going to reveal secrets to their enemy.
“I do value a functioning body, so I’m not the throw-myself-out-of-a-building type,” I snap back. “So now that we’ve clarified that, maybe we can come to a compromise here of the door being left cracked open, but with you firmly still in the hall?”
He huffs out a short-lived laugh before he nods. “I see why the Colonel likes you.”
That admission makes my stomach twist, and for once I don’t have a witty response.
“Bathroom’s at the end of the hall,” he says, stepping back and gesturing with a tilt of his head. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I think you may be enjoying this too much,” I mutter, but I move past him and into the hall.
The truth is, despite the argument for personal boundaries, I feel a natural draw to Derrick’s personality.
He’s never made me feel unsafe and somehow managed to make me smile in our debate.
I understand why Ryoden has him as his right-hand man, and it only lends more credibility to his ability to be an effective leader for the humans.
He chose someone who upholds the same values as him, even when Ryoden isn’t around.
The upstairs hall is narrow and simple, all creaking mahogany wood and plain white walls.
No ornamentation, no family pictures, nothing personalized.
It makes sense when I remember Ryoden told me this is the Colonel’s House, not his house specifically.
Whoever holds the title gets the structure, the location, and apparently the spare room that locks from the outside for questionable guests.
Once I’m done emptying my bladder and washing my hands in the small washroom, Derrick walks me back without comment. He doesn’t crowd, but he never lets more than a few paces stretch between us either. When we reach my door again, he nods toward it.
“In you go.”
Shockingly the command doesn’t rattle me or make me truly feel caged.
“You know,” I say as I step back inside, “I feel like in another life we would be friends, Derrick.”
He snorts. “Noted.”
The door pulls mostly shut, stopping just short of the frame so it doesn’t latch. A concession, maybe. I could pull it open further if I wanted to. Instead, I take the small win and cross back to the window. My hands brace on the sill, happy to go back to looking out over the inner city.
From this corner of the house, the view faces inward, toward the heart of the bustle of the citizens, rather than the wall.
The sky is sliding toward night now, streaked with the last muted colors of sunset.
I watch lanterns beginning to flicker to life along the inner streets.
This area is full of denser structures, narrower alleys, and market stalls being closed down for the night.
Somehow I ended up in the perfect spot to begin to watch the humans as I wanted.
Despite being in here all day, the view has kept it from being boring or suffocating.
I’ve watched and listened to children playing through the skirts and dresses of women.
Seen people politely exchanging supplies with easy smiles and handshakes.
Not one ounce of violence or aggression has been on display.
Though it does strike me that this inner city is mostly composed of women and children, and if it weren’t for Ryoden, Eli, and now Derrick, I’d wonder if the issue is that human men need to be eradicated.
My eyes fall to the two guards standing directly in front of the Colonel’s House, shoulders squared with rifles slung across their backs.
Even if I wanted to test Derrick’s theory and tumble out the window, I’d be landing within clear sight of both of them.
There is nowhere to go that wouldn’t end with more guns pointed at my head.
Their breath plumes faintly in the cooling air as they shift weight from one foot to the other. The snow from the morning didn’t last long, melting within the hour that it fell to gather on the ground. The glass remains cool against my fingers as I rest them there and look around my new home.
The room itself isn’t terrible by any means.
The bed is narrow but clean, with a rough wool blanket atop the creaky mattress.
There’s a small dresser against one wall and against the other is a chair tucked under a desk.
There’s no bars on the window and no hidden shackles that I’ve been able to find.
Ryoden could have put me in a cell, but he didn’t. Instead, I’m in an upstairs room of his home with a view and a person he clearly trusts enough to stand between me and the rest of his city.
It’s still a cage, just one with softer edges.
The guards in front of the house change their stance every so often, rolling their shoulders, stamping their feet against the creeping cold.
My stomach grumbles then, making it clear the broth that had sustained me for most of the day has run its course. A dull, hollow ache makes me regret not finishing the bowl when I had the chance, instead of shoving it away to make a point.
The sky shifts to a muted blue, then deepens toward purple as the sun sinks lower. I’m so focused on counting the hundreds of lanterns dotting the streets that I don’t hear anyone approach the house until the front door shuts downstairs with a solid thud.
The sound jolts through the floorboards and straight up my spine. Derrick shifts outside my door as he pulls it firmly closed again.
Confusion creases the corners of my eyes, wondering why he would need to close it now.
“Sir.”
That one word is enough. My pulse stutters as realization settles in my gut. Ryoden is back.
I hold still, every muscle going tense without meaning to. Part of me braces for his knock, for him to come straight here and resume the interrogation where we left off. To press for more details, more explanations…but no knock comes.
Instead, the low rumble of his voice filters faintly through the door, not seeming to be close. I strain to make them out, but all I catch are tones—tired, clipped, held tightly in that same controlled register I’m learning is his habit.
Time stretches long enough that I realize he’s occupied with something else and my body relaxes. Maybe thirty minutes later, footsteps thud from the hall, loud and growing closer.