Tahlen’s braid was intricate, the lines of it smooth. Zelli thought of those long, shining strands in Kat Ryssa’s hands and tightened his jaw. He said not a word but Tahlen eventually came in and then shut the door behind him.
Zelli got his hair into two fluffy braids only to realize he had not gotten clasps from his pack. He sighed and let the braids fall. He wouldn’t attempt to wear them up. That was inviting disaster. But he’d wanted to look good in front of everyone. Certain people in particular.
Foolish again.
“No food?” Tahlen asked at last, standing by the bed. “You didn’t finish your tea.”
“I can’t handle food this morning,” Zelli confessed shortly, going to his pack for the clasps so he wouldn’t have to look at Tahlen in the mirror.
He didn’t know what to make of Tahlen’s careful tone. “I didn’t think you drankthatmuch last night.”
Zelli combed his hair yet again, making it crackle and rise upward to the ceiling. “Last night,” he pronounced crisply. But last night was something he was not thinking about today, so he shook his head. “I’m nervous, which must seem silly to you. As if you’ve ever doubted yourself. As if you’ve ever had reason to.”
“What does that mean?” Tahlen deliberately moved so their eyes would meet in the mirror.
Zelli rubbed his cheek, bumping one of the fine chains, then swore in a way that would make Grandmother shake her head. “It means nothing,” he said miserably. “I apologize. I’m sure I’m safe up here, if you wanted to spend time elsewhere. You can wait for me downstairs if you prefer. With whomever you like.”
“You are acting as head of your family and will be responsible for the lives and livelihoods of everyone in this village.” Tahlen undoubtedly meant this to be calming. “Anyone would doubt themselves.”
Zelli harrumphed like Cousin Ona. “Not you.”
Tahlen firmed his voice. “Anyone.”
“It really isn’t your job to listen to me whining yet again,” Zelli whispered in reply, ashamed. “Nor to try to cheer me up, although I suppose it’s in your interest for the Tialttyrin to prosper.”
Tahlen let out a breath. Zelli was beginning to think it was Tahlen’s one indication of irritation.
“Thank you for the attempt, anyway.” Zelli straightened his shoulders and picked up his comb to attack his hair again. “You really can wait downstairs if you want. My hair will take a while. Sometimes I think… sometimes I think it knows when I want to look best and it grows more uncontrollable out of spite. It isn’t as though it rewards my efforts by looking pretty. Perhaps… perhaps I should cut it all off once I am safely hand-fasted away.” He suggested it as lightly as he could. “After my intended has learned I am unsophisticated and will no longer be shocked by my lack of taste or interest in demonstrating my high birth with how elaborately I have styled my hair.”
Tahlen’s reflected glare made him flinch. Tahlen’s words, however, were gentle. “The judgments will take hours, possibly even all day. You need to eat. If… if it would help calm you, I could manage your hair for you. If it lets me,” he added, possibly making a joke, which was even more shocking than his suggestion.
Zelli blinked several times.
“It’s often easier to have someone else do the braiding,” Tahlen went on, stilling when Zelli’s eyes shimmered to a darker green than they’d been the moment before.
Immediately distracted from more thoughts of Kat Ryssa touching Tahlen’s hair, Zelli leaned closer to the mirror, watching his eye color settle to a greenish-brown. “That’s quicker than the last time I noticed. Have my eyes been doing this for long?”
“Yes.” Tahlen glanced down when Zelli looked back at him. “I assumed you knew.”
That they would not stay one color, yes. That they had begun changing so fast, no. Zelli uneasily considered if that was a sign of yet another fae problem, or a sign of an older one that he had never noticed, or something else entirely. Something else to fret over once he was home again.
They shimmered darker and then to a deep blue before Zelli turned around to look at Tahlen directly. “I can’t ask you to braid my hair.”
“I’m offering,” Tahlen insisted.
Zelli snorted with doubtful amusement. “Only because you’ve never dealt with my hair. I’ve already used oil this morning, too much will weigh it down. Although it will absorb it all by this afternoon no matter how much you use.”
Tahlen raised his head. “That is a yes?”
“Your hair is always beautiful.” Zelli sighed it. “I’d be a fool not to let you at least try.”
Tahlen swallowed and stood there, staring, before seeming to spur himself away from the bed. Zelli turned to face the mirror again as Tahlen came up behind him, realizing all at once that Tahlen was going to have to be close to him for this, that Tahlen would be touching him, and that Zelli might not be able to see much of Tahlen’s face in the mirror, but Tahlen could certainly see his.
Tahlen’s hands came into sight in the reflection. Zelli could not feel the touch but avidly watched the slow glide of Tahlen’s fingers through the near-rainbow of his hair—until they snagged on a tangle that hadn’t been there before.
Zelli frowned dejectedly. Tahlen paused, then extracted his hand and pulled the total of Zelli’s hair to the back, gently testing the weight as he arranged it so he could see it. He took the comb from Zelli’s useless hands and then said, hardly to be heard, “Your hair is lovely, Zelli. Have you tried telling it that?”
Zelli’s chest seemed to tighten. “You are suggesting I flatter my hair into submission?” he wondered, no louder than Tahlen had been.
