Zoelyn froze for a long moment and then slowly reached up and pushed her hood back. Her long hair fell down over her face and she brushed it back quickly. It was possible that she was far enough from the firelight that no one would notice the strange coloring other than Dominic. He was used to such things, though. She hadn’t told him exactly what had happened yet, and from the expression on his face she would have some explaining to do.
Valor studied her face for a long moment, his eyes locked on the bruise before he turned back to his father. “Noble said the village girls threw rocks at her and called her Undrae, but she doesn’t look like a monster to me. A half-starved waif, perhaps, but certainly no monster.” He shook his head sadly and sighed. “The village girls used to pick on Jala, too, for being different. You should do something to help this girl, father, before she gets hurt again or ends up hurting someone else to defend herself.”
Troyelle watched his son for a moment and glanced at Zoelyn before locking his deep blue gaze on Dominic. “Tomorrow, after you are rested we will have a talk about your Ward. It seems there are things about her that I haven’t been told.”
“Yes, Milord,” Dominic agreed hesitantly. Nodding, he motioned back to the tent again and Zoelyn darted inside.
Swallowing heavily, she pulled her hood up and gazed up at Dominic in near panic. “What are you going to tell him about me?” she asked. “The truth, Zoelyn. I have no choice on that, even if I wished to lie to the man, and I don’t. I live on his lands and under his protection. He allows me peace and solitude in return for my loyalty and my healing gift when it is needed. Troyelle is a rational man, though, so there is a chance he will understand.” Dominic sighed heavily and rubbed his face.
“What if he doesn’t?” Zoelyn asked quickly, her eyes searching his face for and answer before he had a chance to speak.
“Then I abide by his wishes on the matter,” Dominic replied softly and looked away. “Let’s worry about it when we have to face it, Zoey.
For now let’s just focus on helping these people.”
Nodding slowly, Zoelyn turned back to the wounded and moved absently to gather supplies to help. Her mind hummed with dread over the coming day. If Dominic explained everything to Troyelle, even the rational General would think her Undrae. There were times when even her Guardian looked at her with fear, though he tried his best to hide it.
*
Zoelyn’s heart was in her throat as she stepped inside the shadowed interior of the commander’s tent. The only one inside that she actually knew, aside from Dominic, was Troyelle and that was only from seeing him. She had never actually talked to the man personally. The others in the tent she knew by reputation alone. High Lord Elijah Arovan and High Lord Nicoli Blackwolf sat at the table directly ahead of her, while Sebastian Blackwolf and the legendary bard, Blue Bess, stood behind them. As if their presence alone wasn’t intimidating enough, all of them aside from the bard wore expressions that suggested they would rather be anywhere else.
“This is your Ward?” Lord Arovan began in a low voice. His gaze flicked toward Dominic and then to her.
“It is, High Lord. Her name is Zoelyn,” Dominic answered without hesitation.
“Step forward, girl,” Lord Blackwolf commanded in a voice that would put seasoned warriors on edge. His gold eyes watched her and she could see loathing in his eyes as she hastily moved forward and bowed her head to him. “Remove your coat,” Blackwolf ordered once she had obeyed his first command.
Zoelyn hesitated and glanced to her side at Dominic, hoping by some miracle he would save her. She hated shedding her coat. It was like her armor from the outside world. With it on no one could see how truly different she was.
“Do as he says, Zoey,” Dominic urged quietly, giving her a nod of encouragement that didn’t encourage her at all.
Reluctantly, she shrugged out of the heavy leather and folded it over one of her thin arms. Her hair had lost the color from the night before and hung in white tendrils around her shoulders. Her skin, as always, was a pale grey and she knew she was far thinner than most considered attractive. The village girls called her corpse when they thought she was out of range of hearing, and sadly it was the most appropriate description for her that she had heard. She did resemble the walking dead and it was not a fact she was proud of.
“Do you feed her at all, Dominic?” Troyelle asked sharply from behind them. The General stepped forward quickly, his gaze locked on her and she hastily stepped back from him, ducking her head. He had the same expression on his face that everyone aside from Dominic had when she removed her coat. It was a look of disgust and pity in equal parts and she hated it.
“He feeds me well, Lord General,” Zoelyn offered in her typical quiet voice.
“She never gains weight, Milord. She was sickly when I found her, if you recall,” Dominic said in a weary voice. “Because of her condition, I cannot heal her, though I have tried.”
“How exactly would you describe her condition?” Lord Blackwolf asked loudly, and Zoelyn flinched from the sound. It wasn’t that the man scared her; it was the hatred in his voice. She knew without a shadow of doubt that he already considered her a monster and nothing she said could change the fact. He was a Shifter, after all, and they were essentially druids in their mind set. Nature was above all in their culture, and she was quite unnatural.
“Father, you are scaring her,” Sebastian chided gently, though she could see the revulsion in his eyes, too, despite his attempt at kindness.
“I am not scaring that creature,” Lord Blackwolf snapped and raised his eyebrow at Dominic. “Well? How would you describe her condition?” he repeated.