The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(24)

That would be associating with others, though, and she had the practice of being anti-social down to a fine art. From what she had seen in other people in her time with Dominic, blisters were less painful than trying to explain to strangers why she was like she was. It was hard to explain something you didn’t understand, and no one ever believed her when she simply said I don’t know. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to rest for the time being. It had been a long ride, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was tired. Once the camp had quieted and most were sleeping, she would return to help Dominic. She knew without a doubt he would work all night, and for now he had the other girls to fetch and carry for him.





*





“There was a young man looking for you earlier,” Dominic informed her quietly as she pushed her way into the tent.

“Did you tell him who I was?” Zoelyn asked softly as she studied the occupants of the tent. There were perhaps twenty wounded stretched out on pallets near the walls, and aside from a large blond man in leather armor sitting silently by one of the pallets with his eyes closed everyone was sleeping.

Dominic shook his head, never looking up from the wound he was carefully stitching. “I didn’t even glance up at him when he was asking around. Too busy healing to bother,” he explained, though a small smile creased his face. “Shouldn’t be surprised, though, a pretty girl like you should have young men asking after them,” he teased gently.

Zoelyn smiled at his effort to make her feel better and handed him another bandage before he could open his mouth to ask. He accepted it with a wider smile and gave her a wink. “I’d prefer it if young men didn’t know I existed,” she whispered back, her gaze flicking to the blond man once more, and wondered if he was asleep after all. She had never seen anyone sleep while sitting up, but he wasn’t moving.

“Wasting your time and energy,” a voice called from somewhere beyond the tent. “They are all going to die anyway!” the voice continued. Dominic sighed heavily and glanced in that direction before shaking his head in disgust. “I wish someone would silence him,” he mumbled.

“You may have won the battle, but we have won the war!” The voice broke the silence again, this time nearly yelling.

“They have the prisoners this close to the wounded?” Zoelyn asked in disbelief.

“They are keeping them in the center of camp actually. It’s just the tents for the wounded are ringing the center of camp so we are basically right next to them,” Dominic explained wearily. “I have been listening to that man for most of the day. Every time the guards silence him he starts again with the next shift of watch. I have almost got the changing of guards worked out in my mind just from when he rants,” Dominic explained.

“We killed the bitch! None of you have a prayer of standing together now! You have lost!” The voice called once more and the blond man rose instantly with the words.

Zoelyn watched him pace silently to the tent flap and looked back at Dominic in shock. “I thought he was sleeping,” she admitted quietly, and stepped back as Dominic rose quickly as well to follow the man. Confused but curious, she followed along and emerged from the tent in time to see the blond haired stranger grab one of the prisoners by the throat and slam him against the pole that held them all chained in place. Drawing back his other hand swiftly he punched the prisoner in the face, smashing the smaller man’s head back against the pole from the force of his blow. “Lord Delvayon, please,” one of the guards hissed as he tried to pull the bigger man off the prisoner.

“I have listened to this * most of the day and ignored him, right up to the point when he bragged about her dying,” the Lord snarled in return as he shrugged the guard off.

“Lord Delvayon, considering your actions in the battle, you are lucky that we are tolerating your presence here. Please do not press your luck with abuse of the prisoners. We are counting on them being alive to draw a truce with Rivana,” The newest voice cut through the air with the bite of command and Zoelyn drew farther back into the shadows as the tall, dark haired man entered the firelight of the torches surrounding the prisoners.

“Don’t you dare treat him like that for what he did!” Another man snarled, and Zoelyn looked over quickly to see a silver haired man rising from the ground just beyond the edge of camp. He moved swiftly toward the dark haired man, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword as he walked. “If not for Neph, there would be a hell of a lot more names on that pillar!” the silver haired man said in a voice that was rising in fury as he pointed behind him to a large stone statue of a woman that Zoelyn hadn’t even noticed in the growing excitement.