Page 54 of Salt in the Seas
“It would make youlookmore Vendaran.” Gaeren studied her with a critical eye, trying to see why Sylmar and Iris might think that was so important. “But you can’t exactly throw it back on if you change your mind later.”
He’d grown used to the look of her long hair, even come to prefer it. But if it gave her a sense of ownership for this place and these people, he wouldn’t stop her cutting it. And it wouldn’t hurt to have it out of her way in battle—especially now that another confrontation with Mayvus was likely imminent.
“I feel like I should try to be more Vendaran.” She pulled out her dagger—the one he’d given her—and ran a finger along the daisy pattern, just like he’d done a million times while searching for her. “Not just because they want me to, but because it’s my heritage, whether I understand it or not. It’s just hard to make the switch, to go against what the priests and priestesses taught me in Lorvandas. Dresses were more modest and cutting hair was like defying the Stars.”
“Because they all have long hair?” Gaeren asked. He frowned, something about that niggling at the back of his mind. “I’m pretty sure we keep our hair short for the same reason, but from a different angle. It’s disrespectful to grow our hair as long as the Stars, who are far greater than us. Although I know it has something to do with Queen Amaya as well. It could be as simple as her setting a trend with her short hair.”
Aeliana breathed out a light laugh. “Maybe we’re both wrong. The only Star I’ve seen is Orra, and her hair isn’t long.”
That niggling feeling came back. “You’re right. Unless she cut it all off for starlocks. Maybe that’s the real reason why she was grounded.” Now that he thought about it, maybe that was the reason fewer starlocks were being handed out. Maybe they’d all come from Orra and the Stars were running out of her hair.
Aeliana smiled. “That seems like something she would do.” Her smile faded. “She also might have cut it off to fit in with the Vendaranpeople since she was grounded with them. Maybe that’s an example I should follow.”
Gaeren shrugged. “Sometimes the effort alone can help. As you try blending in with our culture, you’ll figure out what works for you and what doesn’t, and when you slip back into some of your Lorvandan ways, the fact that you tried will go a long way. Maybe you’ll even like some of the changes. You’ll become your own blend of cultures that people can appreciate.”
Her gaze turned thoughtful, then she gave a decisive nod. “You’re right. And hair can always grow back.” She held the dagger out to him. “Will you cut it before I change my mind?”
He leaned away as if she offered him poison. “I don’t think you want me anywhere near your hair.”
“I’m sure Iris can make it look prettier when you’re done.”
He still didn’t grab the dagger. “Then why not ask her to do it?”
“I might change my mind before I get to her.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Please, Gaeren. I’m already about to lose my resolve.”
Against his better judgment, he took the dagger and stood. She spun on the stump until her back faced him, then bent forward to reveal the smooth skin at her neck. He shook his head at the irony of the dagger in his hand and her exposed neck. His father would see this as an opportune time to take out a perceived enemy.
But Gaeren was not his father.
He placed his free hand at her back, letting it linger over her neck as he gathered her hair in his hand. Her warm skin left his fingers on fire, even as he watched a shiver run through her, making him wonder if she was afraid or if she felt the same pull as him. Before he could examine the sensation too closely, he began hacking her hair off at the nape of her neck.
She sucked in a breath when shorter strands hit her cheek, making him pause. A wave of daisies bloomed at her feet, spreading out in a circle around them.
“Keep going.” Her voice came out raw, and her hands balled into fists in her lap.
Why had he agreed to do this?
Within moments, a fist full of her hair was in his hand, and whatremained on Aeliana’s head barely brushed her neck. It was a sorry excuse for current styles. Aeliana turned and glanced up at him, placing a hand at the back of her head. Hair fell across her cheeks and into her eyes, which grew as wide as a winex’s. The clearing around the stump was now filled with daisies, reminiscent of the ways she’d filled entire fields when they were children. A lump lodged in his throat, and he fought to swallow around it.
She glanced over at the hair in his hand, then closed her eyes. “It’s done,” she whispered.
A war of emotions crossed her face, making the temptation to brush the hair out of her eyes too strong. His gaze dropped to her lips, and the bond mark on his palm burned.
He took a step back, and the skin surrounding his mark cooled. He tightened his grip on her hair, then held out the dagger, hilt first, searching for something to say, anything to make the moment feel less intimate.
“Do you need me to help you with the trousers, too?” he teased.
Her eyes flew open and her face turned red. She yanked the dagger from his hand and stood. “Very funny.” She shoved the dagger back in its sheath before pushing past him with an eyeroll. “I’ll go find Iris for that.”
A twinge of regret wove through him as she left. He’d embarrassed her and ruined the moment, but at least her pain had been replaced by irritation. That was good, right?
He could practically hear Enla raving at him for his stupidity. Of course it wasn’t good. But if he hadn’t teased Aeliana, he might have done something stupid, like kiss her, and that would have been far worse.
His bond mark itched again, a reminder of how much he loathed the idea of breaking it and how desperate he was to be free of it.
Instead of chasing after Aeliana, he sat down on the stump, separating out a chunk of her hair and tying it off at one end. He double braided it like the mainsheet on his ship, the familiar motion calming after the chaos of the night. Once it was the length of his hand, he wrapped it around his left wrist, testing the feel of it. An old memory of Orra toying with her braid came to him, along with her wordstelling him it belonged to someone who had been much more than a bondmate.
He wasn’t sure what Aeliana was to him, but “more than a bondmate” felt right.
