It might be because she was hiding behind the pretense that she was normal, but Ysabel had always found it difficult to trust a person. Even if it was the person who she owed her life to. This was just the way she was raised by people who were not her real parents. 

“With all due respect,” Ysabel turned her attention to Fraym, she fought to keep her voice even. “I find no reason to trust you entirely. The information I have – the information which you wish to acquire – is mine to use as I please. And right now, with your men outnumbering me, I have this piece of information to trade for my safety.” 

Greymount barked a humorless laugh. His eyes caught the light from the fire making the hazel spark like gold. His beard covered most of the bottom half of his face, but was unable to diminish the sharp lines of his features. His cheekbones, for example, were high and pronounced, especially when he grinned like an evil mastermind. “Such high spirits for a small creature. It will be fun to break you,” he mused then snapped his head towards Roran’s direction. “You, boy.” Greymount commanded his attention. “Have you nothing better to do than stand here all night?”

“Don’t pick on the young ones, Greymount. You are certainly jealous of their youth,” Fraym cut in. “I understand your concern –“ 

“Ysabel.”

“Ysabel. However, I am the one assuring your safety among my brothers. Not a hair on your head shall be touched.”

Even promises didn’t work for her. She was more at east in situations which she could control and that night was not one of those situations. There may be something they wanted from her, but what was to stop them if they wanted to abandon her in the middle of the road or worse kill her, because she was someone who would offend the king. The blonde was correct, she was not safe around these men.

“The storm has cleared all of a sudden,” Fraym said, looking up at the night sky. “Makes me believe that the gods are making a return.” Even the winds had calmed down. Ysabel noticed it for the first time just as a wave of nausea washed over her. She swayed on her feet, but managed to keep her balance, cursing herself and her series of bad decisions. She felt lightheaded, and cold, colder than when the storm was raging on, and decided that her body was already feeling the effects of the Warg’s infection.

“May I leave you three men alone? I feel tired.” Ysabel walked back towards the rook, where the others stopped their animated conversations as she came close. Eyes followed her every move, she could feel their curiosity through their stares. They all wanted to hear how she managed to cure Rannor. This was what she was warned against. She was not supposed to use her powers outside her group – the group that had all been left dead in the snow. She pretended not to notice them and went to sit against the wall near Rannor, closed her eyes, and asked for sleep to come and take her.