Page 168 of Between Soul and Vessel
He wasn’t wrong.
So then . . . What about Kaleb and Artemesia?
Folkoln already took care of Artemesia’s cup. Kaleb can be the guinea pig.
Von,I scolded him.
He just smirked.
I sighed, watching as Kaleb stood. He extended his empty cup toward Naia. “I’ll have some more.”
“Wonderful,” Naia exclaimed, positioning the spout over his waiting cup and filling it up. “Anyone else?” Her attention swung to me. “Sage?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I said, smiling warmly. The second Naia looked away, I swung my face to Von’s. I squinted at him, shooting little daggers as I demanded through the bond,Drain his cup.
He’s already had one cup. What’s the harm in—
Von! I cut him off in a harsh growl.
Alright, alright,he replied in a smooth, playful tone, eyes shifting toward Kaleb’s cup.
Sage
Later that night, I stood in front of the window in the bathroom, brushing my wet hair, a towel wrapped around me. I studied the full moon. It was huge, but despite its impressive size, it was the color of it that caught my eye—blood red. It lit up the desert lands, painting the dunes an eerie, ominous color.
Von’s arms swept around me, pulling me into him. A smile bloomed on my lips.
He dropped his head beside mine, his heated breath tickling the shell of my ear. “For many years, I stood outside your bedroom window, watching as you’d brush your hair, wondering what it would be like to do it for you. Now that I’m on the other side, I intend to answer that question every night.” Long fingers curled around my wrist, stalling my hand so he could pluck the brush from it.
I nibbled on my bottom lip then asked in a sensual tone, “Are you surethat’s allyou wanted to do to me back then?”
“Brushing your hair was one innocent thought . . . among a thousand depraved ones,” he purred, taking a step back. Playfully, he tapped my bottom with the flat of the brush. “Now let me brush your hair, wife, just so I can mess it up after.”
The unexpected little swat stirred a giggle from me. “Such a gentleman you are,” I teased warmly.
“If there is one thing I’m not, it is that.” He gathered my hair and swept it back. He started at the ends, but I’d brushed the majority of those tangles out, so he moved the brush further up, working on the middle section.
My hair could be a real nightmare sometimes. Although my strands were thin, they were bountiful, which was a recipe for calamity. It didn’t matter if I brushed it until it resembled soft silk; by the end of the day, my hair was guaranteed to be tangled.
And it had been like that for as long as I could remember.
In truth, it was something I used to be very self-conscious about when I lived in the Golden Palace, especially after I had overheard the other goddesses laughing and exchanging jokes about my hair—
What type of immortal has hair like that? At the end of every party, she looks like the king took her to a back room and had his way with her. That, or maybe he loaned her out to his friends.
Maybe someone should introduce her to a brush.
I would, but I’d be scared to lend her mine—who knowswhat kind of fleas that horrible hair harbors, especially considering the God of Death shows up and takes her every time she falls ill? Who knows what he does to her.
She probably gets down on her knees for him. She’s got whore hair—makes sense she would act like one. Disgusting female. The king should do all of us a favor and strap her to the tree with the white leaves in the courtyard. He’s shown her nothing but patience and kindness, but she fails to bear children for him. Sometimes, one needs to know when to put a useless bitch down.
They’d gone on and on, their words like knives, cutting me where I stood. Tears pricking my eyes, I’d gathered my skirts and raced out of the room, searching the massive palace for Aurelius. When I’d finally found him, I’d thrown myself into his arms and told him what I’d heard. Soothingly, he’d stroked my hair and said he had a solution to the problem—instead of leaving my hair down, like the other goddesses wore theirs, perhaps I should wear it in braids or in an updo of some sort. That way it wouldn’t get so tangled come the end of the day.
I had been hurt and saddened by his suggestion, but I had done as I always did when it came to moments like that one—I stuffed them in a box, shoved them into the furthest, deepest recesses of my mind, along with all the others, and nodded, telling myself he was right, that he knew best.
The next morning, when my lady’s maid came to my room, she’d told me I would be wearing my hair different from that day forward. I’d never known the pain of my constrictive corset could be transferred to my head, but asshe’d tugged and pulled on my hair, braiding it so tightly it felt like it was being plucked out of my scalp, I’d learned it could. After she was done, I’d went to the throne room, taking my spot beside Aurelius’s throne. He’d given my hand a squeeze, telling me this was a wonderful improvement, and then went about his duties.
All the while, I stood there, slowly dying inside.
