Page 17 of Crowned A Traitor
“Was there something else?” Klara asked, leaning against the dresser. “Lucifer asked me to…” Frendall stopped, and she saw the cutthroat razor in his hand.
“The sooner we start, the quicker it will be over.”
Klara felt her heart sink as a deep blue cascaded through her hair. Frendall’s eyes drifted over her, and she could feel his concern.
“I haven’t regained my full strength so I can’t control it as much,” Klara said. “I’m guessing everything in this room is the same?”
Klara went to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors, and there they were. Her wigs, except gone were the bright colours her Father had gifted her as a child. Now sat simple varying lengths of black hair on blank faces while an emerald dress hung on the back of the door—the deep colour highlighting her status.
“You arranged these,” Klara asked, not looking away from the collection.
“A Witch created them last minute, and she assured me that they will appear natural once placed,” Frendall said. “You can’t go to a banquet with the High Demons like this, one wrong emotion, and they will see weakness.”
Klara wondered if he was protecting her or the Heir of Hell.
“The dress is also required.”
Frendall cleared his throat and Klara let the heavy fabric run through her hands as she clasped the corseted waist.Abadan would drop dead of shock if she were to see me in a gown so similar to the style she prefers.The thought almost made it worth wearing. Klara slammed the wardrobe door, “I’d be more comfortable in my own clothes.”
Frendall walked over to the wardrobe and removed the dress from the hook. “Your t-shirt is caked in blood, and your trousers are filthy from the Fall.” He handed her the dress, and Klara threw it on the bed over the Hounds. They growled as the fabric draped over them.
“I see the Queens haven’t been successful in taming you.”
“A ruler doesn’t need taming.”
Klara reminded Frendall of his place as they squared off inches from each other. She met his eye even though he stood a foot taller than her.
“Hair will grow back,” Frendall said, stepping back from her. “That’s not the point,” Klara said under her breath.
There would be plenty of battles ahead, and she couldn’t afford to waste energy on this one. Cutting her hair was a show of good faith and she needed her Father’s trust if she was to return to the Queens unscathed. Klara went back to the mirror, and her hair flashed through an array of colours until finally settling back to black. She grabbed a few bands from the dresser and started sectioning her hair as she had done as a child.
Frendall watched in silence as she outstretched her hand for the razor, “Fun while it lasted.”
With the cutthroat, Klara sliced through the lengths of bound hair until hair pooled at her feet. Frendall watched in the mirror as the jagged cropped hair shifted to a dull blue. Frendall muttered a few words and a stool appeared in front of the mirror.
“Take a seat and I’ll finish it, you’ll need help with the back,” Frendall said, razor in hand and she stared at her reddened eyes.Don’t even think about crying in front of him, Klara chastised herself, brushing the fallen hair from the dresser onto the floor. One of the Hounds hopped down from the bed and placed his head on her lap, trying to comfort her.
The scrape of the cutthroat on the back of her neck made her feel like she was seven years old again. Only now, Frendall stood in her Father’s place.
“Never thought you would be doing this,” Klara said as he moved the blade around her ear and she stilled, afraid he would nick her. Frendall was skilled and light with the knife, she only felt the cool steel instead of a harsh scrape.
“Why let it grow out? Why insist on breaking a direct order?” Frendall asked, and she looked at his cold eyes in the mirror.
“What if someone altered you every other week, made you feel like an oddity? All because of a gift Lucifer himself gave me.”
“The King wanted you to be able to see through your enemies.”
Klara brushed his hands from her shoulders.
“He wanted me to be able to spot his enemies, to soothe his paranoia. I’m the one who pays the price.”
“Not if you follow the rules,” Frendall huffed, and she hated his devout loyalty to the King.
“No gift comes without cost, I can reveal what others hide, but I can’t hide either.”
Klara lifted her hands to catch the last few strands of hair. Years of patience taken away in a matter of minutes. “I could have worn a wig over my hair.”
“We both know the King would have checked and then we would both be at the end of a pitchfork.” Frendall evened out the last of the rough patches.
