* * *
"He needs a haircut," Veris's lieutenant declared. "Lord Gardevik has more important things on his mind and does not need to be bothered with this."
Veris carefully weighed Breth's claims about the little common who couldn't speak. "I suppose you intend to correct the situation?" Veris crossed arms over his chest.
"With your permission. His hair is too long and appears untidy. It presents the wrong image for the Raoni's troops."
"But that one is not of the Raoni's troops," Veris pointed out. "He is recovering from a head injury."
"A haircut is not harmful in the least," Breth declared. "And he will look better afterward."
"Fine, go and get him," Veris muttered.
* * *
The one who'd called me difik came to get me shortly before bedtime that evening. "Come," he demanded. I had no idea how to tell him that I didn't want to come anywhere with him. I watched him warily as he led me through camp. Veris, the one who'd pulled me away from Orliff at the palace, stood waiting. He mimed cutting hair to me. That stopped me in my tracks. I'd worked so hard to get my hair to the length it was. It barely touched my shoulders and was still quite curly as a result. Most comesuli kept their hair short—it was easier to take care of, I suppose, but I wasn't a comesula. I wanted to keep my hair and grow it longer. I wanted it back to the length it was before I'd tried to give myself to the sun.
I was shaking my head violently at Veris, doing my best to tell him I wanted nothing to do with a haircut. He was motioning for me to come and sit down. I shook my head again and tried to walk away. That's when I was grabbed.
* * *
"Don't hurt him!" Veris shouted as Breth and another comesula grabbed Niff's arms, forcing him to a nearby stump. Niff was frightened and struggling in their grasp. Veris was beginning to think the haircut a bad idea, but he'd already given permission. Niff was resisting and he hadn't expected that. At other times, Niff had cooperated when asked to do something.
"Get shackles!" Breth commanded and another comesula came running with the requested chain bracelets. Niff was still fighting Breth and Weld, so the third comesula locked the shackles on the small common's wrists, tightening them. The chain between the bracelets was very short—only a few links—and still the little common had to be held down on the stump. Breth accepted the shears from someone else.
Niff's eyes were wide and tears came when Breth made the first cut. Reddish-blond curls dropped to the ground.
"Cut it well or you'll be chained," Veris growled at Breth. The little common was weeping as Breth kept snipping.
* * *
"What happened?" Gardevik demanded as his little common rushed past, weeping and wiping his face on a sleeve. Veris had followed along in case an explanation was needed.
"Breth pointed out that he needed a haircut," Veris stood before Gardevik.
"And did Niff agree to this?" Garde asked.
"He didn't want it," Veris replied, wondering if he shouldn't have thought this through before granting permission.
"And he sat there and let you do it anyway?"
"Well, we did have to shackle him and hold him down," Veris didn't like where the conversation was going.
"You shackled my cook to force him to get a haircut?" Garde didn't like Veris's explanation.
"He didn't present the proper image as your personal servant," Veris mumbled, repeating Breth's words to him.
"Don't you think I should decide what my personal servant's proper image should be?" Smoke curled from Garde's nostrils. Veris recognized that as a warning sign. Any High Demon blowing smoke was angry, and an angry High Demon was never far from their Thifilathi.
"My apologies, High Lord. We made a mistake."
"Do not lay your hands on Niff again without my permission," Garde snarled.
"Yes, High Lord." Veris wanted to run to get away from Gardevik, but he walked away instead, in an effort to retain his dignity.
* * *
They'd cut my hair. They'd cut my f**king hair. Just snipped it right off while I was chained and held down. If they'd known I could have snapped those chains with a flick of my wrist, they might not have put them on me in the first place. I was learning my lesson—not all comesuli were kind. They were just like any other people, I guess. I wiped tears off my face and went to find Garde's mirror—he kept one to groom his hair.
The image that stared back at me made me want to weep again. That ass**le had butchered my hair. It was an inch in length now, and looked horribly uneven. I wanted to mist the jackass away and drop him in the nearest lake, harboring hope that it might contain crocodiles or large, comesula-eating fish. No way could I fix this. I was stuck with the worst haircut imaginable. I could have done a better job if I'd cut it myself. Fuck. Fuck to the twelfth power.
Gardevik climbed into the wagon later; I took his clothes and boots from him, as I always did. Tearstains still showed on my cheeks, but Garde never looked at me anyway. He could compete with Gavin in looks—dark-brown hair, darker eyes and a handsome enough face, and all that was matched with a body most men on Earth would kill to get. High Demons seemed to have it naturally. I'm sure Kifirin the ass**le had seen to that when he'd made them, all those years ago. Kifirin. If he was here now, I'd slap him into next week, I was so mad. Griffin too. They both had a lot to answer for. Maybe that's why they hadn't gone looking for me; I'd served my purpose and now they had no desire to listen to the vampire whine.
Perhaps I was supposed to be bigger than that and understand how I'd had a higher calling or something—that I was supposed to be one of those long-suffering heroines the books all praised. I wasn't anything like that. I'd been birthed for a specific reason—to keep the peace between werewolves and vampires, destroy Xenides and then save High Demon and comesuli ass. One of those comesuli had just chopped off my hair and chained me up to do it. My head looked like someone had taken a weed trimmer to it. I sure hoped his ass didn't need saving again, because I might have second thoughts.
* * *
"Griffin nearly went crazy when he learned that Lissa's memorial wasn't planned for another year," Kiarra was as tactful as possible while speaking with Jayd.
"But we have no idea how this news will affect the commons; they're only now climbing out of the rubble from the attack," Jayd defended his and Garde's decision. "If we tell them the hope they've prayed and waited for is now dead, who knows what will happen?"
"You mean they might stop serving your dinner for a day or two?" Griffin appeared and he was angry. "My daughter died defending this planet and this is the thanks you give her?" Pheligar folded in, as Griffin might have to be restrained.