Chapter 21
As the meeting broke up, Aeliana slipped out of the room, and Gaeren followed her. Her speed through the halls made him hesitate. It seemed like she wanted to be alone. But he also felt like she maybe shouldn’t be right now.
He kept his distance as she made her way to the bailey, noting with curiosity that the soldiers gave her the same customary bow many of the men on his ship would give him, two fingers to the forehead followed by a slight nod.
And while Aeliana didn’t snub them, her pace sped up with each encounter, as if she grew more desperate to escape the attention.
To his irritation, the soldiers didn’t stop her from leaving the fortress walls even though it was nearly the moon’s reign, but they questioned him.
The delay nearly made him lose track of her, but eventually he caught up to where she sat at the edge of the woods on a stump.
She placed her face in her palms, then bent over her lap, her hair forming a curtain on either side, blocking her out from the world.
He paused, wondering if he’d made a mistake, if this moment was too vulnerable for her to want him here.
He was about to leave when she let out something between a cry and a yell, then bent forward and grabbed a pinecone before chucking it just past his right ear. He ducked to avoid it, and she gasped.
“I didn’t know you were there.” She stood, wringing her hands. “Are you all right?”
He chuckled. “I think I’ll live.”
Even in the waning moonlight he could see her concern shift to a frown. “Serves you right for sneaking up on me out here.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the open space between the woods and the fortress. “Even in this darkness you could have seen me coming if you’d been looking.”
Her frown deepened, and he tried to backtrack.
“I just came to make sure you’re all right. You seemed upset.” He stepped closer and she looked away, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I’m just frustrated. For all Sylmar’s talk about wanting me to step into some sort of leadership role, he let the group override the decision. It makes no sense. He wanted to go to Pacran as well. That’s what we should have done.”
“Maybe he was waiting to see if you pushed back.”
The glare she’d reserved for the stump shifted to him. “So you’re saying I failed his test?”
“I don’t know if anyone passes any of Sylmar’s tests.” He grinned, and when her frown smoothed out and the edges of her lips curved upward, he felt a strange rush of satisfaction.
“We should be going to Pacran’s library,” she said again, as if wanting reassurance she’d been right. “How can we trust anything that crazy sea witch tells us? Even if it’s right, what’s the benefit if knowledge of the future drives us all to insanity?”
The sprite’s instructions for finding the silver fish were on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he didn’t think that detail would change her mind.
If anything, it would get him in trouble for siding with those wanting to go to Andel.
So he kept his silence, letting her assume he agreed. It wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?
Guilt wormed through him, a response usually only triggered by Enla.
The thought made his guilt double, considering this journey could potentially set the sprite’s prediction in motion, resulting in Enla paying a heavy price.
Or maybe it would result in Gaeren paying that heavy price since he’d tried to trade his own life for hers.
Riveran may have saved his life by killing the sprite, but he also might have solidified Enla’s danger.
Or maybe the sprite’s death had canceled out all the deals he’d tried making.
Aeliana sat back on the stump. “I suppose I don’t understand Vendarans enough to think the way they do. I hate that my mother’s so confused. I hate that the Recreants expect me to follow in her footsteps.”
“Ah.” He squatted next to her, dragging a stick through the pine needles scattered on the forest floor.
“So that’s why they bow to you.” He should have figured it out, but his politics were far more focused on how to help the Recreants get out from under his father’s thumb to consider the Recreants’ divided interest in placing Emeris on the throne instead.
“The ones who don’t know me bow,” she spat out. “Those who do are well aware that I’m more Lorvandan than Vendaran. I’m not fit to be a part of their cause, let alone lead it.”
“Then don’t.”
She huffed in disbelief.
He tapped her knee until she looked at him. “I mean it. You don’t have to be Lorvandan or Vendaran. You’re just Daisy.”
Her eyes grew troubled. “I’m only Daisy to you.”
His face warmed when he realized what he’d said. “Sorry, you’re just Aeliana.” He sat back on the grass and pine needles. “Just… don’t try to be something you’re not.”
She sighed. “Orra said something similar. It’s a nice sentiment, but Sylmar, Iris, and Kendalyhn—even my mother—they’re all pushing me to accept the culture. To be one of them.” She toyed with the hem of her skirt. “They want me to wear leathers instead of dresses.”
A laugh burst out of him before he could hold it back, and she turned hurt-filled eyes his way.
“Sorry, it just seems ridiculous. But if it makes them happy, why not try it? Then maybe they’ll realize you can’t throw pants on a woman and make her something else, and you can go back to wearing these.” He gestured toward her dress.
She grimaced. “They also want me to cut my hair.” She pulled her hair around to one side, combing her fingers through it and twisting it up as if testing how it might feel to be short.
“It would make you look more 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 Vendaran people 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 what remained 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 words telling 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.
He let his starlock warm at his chest before sending its energy out to his wrist, singeing the ends together. The bond mark on his palm burned with it, the searing pain forcing him to close his eyes until he sensed the braid made a full circle.
The pain receded, but the bond mark had faded with it.
The edges had grown thinner, the shape disfigured.
He ran a finger over it, wondering if Lenda had felt it, wondering what exactly it meant.
But then he ran his finger along the braid, grateful he once again had a token, like the dagger, to remind him of his purpose.
It had grown much bigger than protecting just Aeliana.
He needed to protect Enla from whatever the sprite had seen in her future.
He needed to protect the Recreants from his father’s rule.
He needed to protect all of Vendaras from Mayvus’ impending threats.
And yes, whether she wanted it or not, he still felt the need to protect Aeliana.
He pressed his nose to the soft hair, inhaling the earthy smell of daisies and a hint of salt, his mind rushing back through the memories of her as a toddler, the scent of the sea forever in her hair.
Except this time the memories were faded, the current impression of her as a woman far more pressing in his mind.
He slipped his sleeve down over the braid before he was forced to acknowledge what that change might mean.