“It doesn’t need to submit.” Tahlen used the comb to make a part and… Zelli’s hair allowed itself to be parted.
Zelli could not even be annoyed. The comb dragged lightly across his scalp as Tahlen created sections to put into clasps while he combed out the remaining tangles, which did not fight him.
“I don’t understand,” Zelli complained breathlessly. “Are you part fae? You aren’t even using extra oil.”
“It’s soft as it is,” Tahlen remarked. Maybe he had forgotten he was whispering. His hand brushed the spot behind Zelli’s ear. Zelli shivered and lowered his gaze. He kept it down, uncertain what color his eyes would be for this or what that might mean.
“It does not lie flat like yours,” Zelli reminded him.
“No, it has more life.” Tahlen undid the first few clasps, apparently satisfied that Zelli’s hair would do what he pleased now. Zelli believed it would.
Tahlen was careful. His hands did not brush Zelli’s skin again, except for a small, light touch across Zelli’s nape that sent another shiver down Zelli’s back, and a final sweep to get the wispy strays around Zelli’s ears and tuck them into the rest of the braiding.
“Sorry,” Tahlen murmured for that.
Zelli felt like Kat Ryssa must have felt with Tahlen’s breath on her neck.
“What?” He had no idea what Tahlen was apologizing for. “It’s well—fine. More than fine.” He wondered if his voice too high.
Tahlen used the clasps again as Zelli generally didn’t bother to do, as though Tahlen didn’t think it was ridiculous for Zelli to have shining silver grape leaves throughout his hair. He stepped back a moment later, apparently finished.
Zelli took a calming breath, then looked at his reflection.Purple, he thought distractedly, caught by his eyes. He hadn’t known purple could seem hot. The freckles across his nose and cheeks seemed darker against his flush. The glinting silver metalwork would not disguise them or the red of Zelli’s lips where he’d bitten them. Then his hair took the rest of his attention.
Tahlen had not braided it tightly, the way Zelli usually tried to do. It would come loose in no time at all, Zelli worried, but then stopped, uncertain. He crept closer to the mirror, turning his head to each side to see the braid Tahlen had started behind each ear and then twisted together at his nape. There were two tiny braids to accent the rest, pulled back into the same twist. With nothing more than clasps to hold it down, the rest of Zelli’s hair was free to shift and shine in the light. The colors were not hidden.
Zelli bit his bottom lip hard.
“Less for it to escape from,” Tahlen explained himself. Maybe he thought Zelli was angry.
Zelli faced him. “It’s better than anything I have ever done,” he told Tahlen honestly. “I love it. But they will think I’m wild.”
Tahlen looked over Zelli’s hair one last time, then Zelli’s face, their eyes not meeting. “I can take it down.”
“No!” Zelli objected immediately, dizzy as he turned back to the mirror. “I look like a beat-of-four for the first time in my life. I look like a Tialttyrin, a real one. Thank you,” he said to Tahlen’s now-scowling reflection. “I even almost feel beautiful.”
Tahlen opened his mouth, then closed it. He coughed. “I’ll go get you some food, unless you want to eat downstairs with the gathering crowd.”
Zelli shook his head forcefully at that idea, then worried he’d damaged Tahlen’s work and leaned toward the mirror again to admire it.
“Tahlen,” he stopped Tahlen before he was out the door, “thank you.”
Tahlen stared out into the hall. “Ask anytime, if you need it.” Then he was gone, except for a low, “Lock the door again, please, Zelli,” once the door was closed behind him.
After honeyed toast and enough tea to keep Tahlen from grumbling, and removing the silver links across one side of his face because he got honey on them, Zelli took a steadying breath and left the room. It would be rude to keep people waiting any longer, even if burying his head beneath a pillow once again seemed appealing.
Tahlen would have been disappointed in him. Grandmother too, who would have also reminded Zelli that he had chosen this so it was now his responsibility.
Nonetheless, Zelli hesitated on the last step down to the main room, catching his breath at the number of people seated on the rearranged chairs or standing in the rest of the available space. A single table remained, in front of the fireplace on one side of the room. Mayor Sar was more than used to hosting these proceedings, judging from the pitcher and cup on the table, and even a few sheets of paper next to a quill and a pot of ink.
The crowd went silent at the sight of him. Zelli tried not to think about that, nodding in greeting and then hurrying to his seat at the table, which Mayor Sar pulled out for him. Seated, Zelli’s feet did not fully touch the floor, which he hoped people would not notice. Tahlen stood behind Zelli on his other side. Zelli suppressed the urge to glance pleadingly at him to stand nearer so Zelli could check his reactions.
He braced himself, then swept a look over the room. In the group by the door, a few held papers. Petitioners, most probably there with straightforward requests, news of which would be passed on to Grandmother. The others who were not in any sort of line must be here to watch and form an opinion of Zelli. By the bar, with several large people obviously standing guard, was a woman perhaps slightly older than Tahlen, her hair once short but now growing out somewhat unevenly. She was thin but not alarmingly so, and her clothing did not seem to fit her; the shirt too big, the pants slightly small. One of her wrists had rope looped around it, the end of which was in the hands of one of the figures guarding her.
Zelli took another steadying breath. The room was quiet save for a bit of coughing and shuffling feet.
“I am very sorry for the missing judgments last year. Grandmother is in poor health but is thinking of all of you. I am equally sorry for the lack of warning about this one. If anyone could not make it in time, messages can always be sent to The Tialttyrin directly. Messengers themselves will be fed and cared for in our house before their return journey.” He cleared his throat to banish a waver, then turned to address the prisoner. “I am also sorry for making you wait.”
The prisoner straightened, startled. Her skin was yellow-brown, her eyes darker, like charred wood. Her eyes flicked from Zelli to the rest of the room, almost questioning. “That’s fine,” she said at last. Though there was little else shecouldsay in response, Zelli supposed, but turned away from her to continue.
