She is not what he expected, either. Roshka is so friendly, so well-liked by all, a natural politician in that regard. Irrylath knows that he will be commended on the strength of his character, his beauty, and his bloodlines, but Roshka is so aggressively charismatic that it speaks to anyone who sees him. "He is a good man, your brother," Irrylath says, and they pass by Oriencor's door. No one flies out, angry at his passing. They are unmolested in their venture.

She is so small. Small but her hands are rough against him, even though she can't quite feel her skin through his shirt, he can feel the rasp and the tug. She is a girl who does things herself, and it excites him, in a way. "I don't mine going out of my way," he tells her, "I have no idea when I'll be allowed back from my banishment," he adds, leaning forward just enough to catch the scent of sunlight off her hair. He may be escorting her but she is the one leading the way, through quiet hallways. Everyone in this building seems to be busy, too busy to stare at the pair of them.