The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(23)

“Wait!” the man called behind her as he realized she was already fleeing the area. “Please. I won’t let them throw anymore at you. Just wait a moment. Who are you?” He was moving back toward the shore, but the rocks were slowing his progress enough to keep most of his attention on his footing.

Shaking her head quickly, Zoelyn glanced back at him and then to the girls. “Thank you,” she repeated a bit louder, but ignored his question completely as she quickly continued her way up the hill. She didn’t want anyone in the camp to know her name, especially after what had just happened. With any luck at all, the man’s only description of her would be her coat, and she could hide that with a cloak easily enough.

Water was still dripping from her long coat as she crossed to the tent to set down the bucket, but thankfully Dominic was too occupied to notice. “The water is by the entrance, Dominic I’m going to settle the horses somewhere,” Zoelyn called softly inside and he nodded absently in response. Turning quickly, she led the horses off toward the picket lines near the trees and farther from the bustle of the camp. She could only hope that everyone had too many other things to attend to than bother listening to the gossip the girls would spread. If they didn’t, however, she would be out of sight long enough that perhaps no one would realize it was her they were speaking of.

Zoelyn’s muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed as she stepped into the shelter of the trees. The spot she had chosen was far enough away from the other horses that no one else would likely bother wandering over, and yet close enough for the animals to be safe. Leaning heavily on her mare’s saddle, she watched the camp long enough to spot the man from the river passing through the crowded tents, his eyes searching. She shook her head slowly and let herself relax further. He was going farther into the encampment and farther away from her. There was nothing to worry about for now.

Standing straight once more, she unbridled both horses and tethered their ropes to the trees, giving them enough slack to reach the tall grass, but not enough to become tangled. With practiced ease she removed the saddles and carried them far enough away from the pickets that the animals wouldn’t step on them. Her eyes lingered on the horses’ sweat soaked sides and her gaze wandered up to their pack horse. Really she should brush them both, but the brushes were in the packs on the horse in the camp she was avoiding.

“I promise you both an extra-long grooming tomorrow,” Zoelyn said, her voice barely loud enough to carry to the horses. Her mare looked over at her at the sound of her voice, but seemed more intent on chewing on the grass in her mouth than concern about grooming. With a swish of her long black tail, the horse returned to eating and Zoelyn smiled.

She shrugged out of her sodden coat as she moved back toward the saddles and carefully hung it across one of the lower limbs. The branch swayed under the weight of the garment and she lingered, her hands up and ready to catch it in case the limb gave. After a long moment she nodded faintly and dropped down to sit on the edge of the saddle blankets. Glancing up, she watched the camp for another long moment before peeling off the wet gloves. The skin of her fingers was already pruning from the wet leather and she knew if the gloves didn’t dry before Dominic needed her help, she was in for blisters and misery for several days.

Leaning back against the saddle, Zoelyn lifted her hand to her face and carefully prodded at the sore spot where the rock had hit just above her cheekbone. It was swollen and likely bruised, but didn’t seem to be too bad. Still it would look as though she had been in a tavern brawl for a few days at least. There was nothing to be done for it, though, even if Dominic had extra energy to spare on her, Healing magics didn’t work on her at all. Her body seemed ravenous for magic as much as it was for life. Every spell or item of magic she touched drained into her with no effect other than the change in her hair.

She twisted a lock of hair around her finger at that thought and gazed down at the gold and green coloring. Typically, when her curse hadn’t drained anything, her hair was white, almost crystalline in appearance, as were her eyes. It changed, however, whenever she absorbed anything. The green was for the plants that had withered and the gold represented the life she had stolen from the innocent creatures that had been unfortunate enough to be near her.

Sighing heavily, she let her hair fall back to her shoulder once more and leaned back farther to stare up at the twilight sky that was visible through the limbs of the massive oak. Not much chance of her coat or gloves drying quickly with the sun already setting. The logical thing to do would be to take them back into camp and set them beside one of the camp fires.