The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #4)(20)

“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.

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.