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Mel bites her lip as her mother’s fingers tangle in her coils. Ambessa works to braid it with diligence inherited from Medarda women who came long before them both. It confounds Mel. She has watched her mother commit the most violent acts imaginable with her hands, but now they weave deftly through her tresses, like her scalp is a tapestry she’s committed to perfecting.
A sharp pain makes her head throb. She flinches.
“For heaven’s sake, child, stop fidgeting,” her mother snaps.
“But it hurts,” she protests.
“Pain is a fact of life. You are a Medarda. You must never let anyone see yours.”
Mel stifles another wince. “Yes, mother.”
Kino, sitting in the corner with a book in his hand, laughs. He looks at his sister with a teasing glint in his eye. “Still tenderheaded, hm?”
Mel pouts at him. “It’s not funny.”
“Enough, both of you.” Ambessa warns with a stern glare. Her attention returns to her daughter. “You ought to learn to do this yourself. I knew how when I was half your age.”
She will one day. But right now, as her mother braids her hair, Mel is content to sit and allow her. For all of her raving about the perils of sentimentality, Ambessa would never let anyone else touch her children’s heads but her. Mel sees it for what it is—a quiet declaration of love. She will revel in it for as long as it lasts.
“There.” After another half hour of suffering on her daughter’s end, Ambessa claps her on the shoulder as she rises to her feet. “Take a look.”
Mel’s head still aches as she moves to the mirror. The front of her hair is braided close to her scalp, the parts clean and intricate, the rest swelling into a puff at the back.
“Do you like it?” her mother asks.
She stares at her reflection. She feels elegant, and…maybe even pretty. “Yes,” she breathes. “Thank you, mother.”
“Good.” Ambessa may have smiled for a moment, but it fades as she shoos her children away. “Now, out with the both of you. I have other matters to attend to.”
“It looks nice,” Kino tells her as they leave their mother’s chambers. Mel trails behind him, always his shadow, and he waits for her to catch up. His smile is fond as she falls into step beside him. “You look like a princess.”
“I feel like one,” she admits.
“I’m surprised you managed to sit through it. Perhaps mother will make a warrior of you yet.”
“Kino...”
“At least you didn’t cry this time.”
She shoves him. He laughs.
Jayce watches her one morning as she sits before her vanity, readying herself for her trip. She’s been summoned to a neighboring city to meet with some potential Hextech investors, and after applying her makeup, she moves on to her hair. She’s opted to go with braids in the front, hands moving expertly to achieve it.
“How do you do it?”
She doesn’t look away from the mirror. “Do what?”
“Manage all that hair.”
Mel chuckles. “Very carefully.”
Jayce comes to stand behind her. He reaches out, like he wants to touch her hair, but a quizzical glance from her stops him. “Oh, sorry,” he says. “Can I…?”
If he were anyone else, she’d shut him down. But he isn’t anyone else. He is Jayce Talis, the man who has her heart. She nods and murmurs a soft mm-hmm.
Jayce’s hands are strong like her mother’s, but gentle as they sift through her curls. “It’s beautiful,” he tells her. “You should wear it out like this more often.”
“Hm.” Mel tries to ignore the way her cheeks flare with heat at his words. “Perhaps. It’s just easier to have it up and out of the way.”
“Well then, maybe I’ll just have to knock it out again.”
“Hush.” She swats at him and he laughs, the sound like music to her ears. His laughter is earnest, like it’s emitting from his very soul. “What time is it?”
Jayce glances up at the golden clock on her wall. “Noon.”
Oh. Mel’s ship is due to depart from the Hexgates in just over an hour, and she is nowhere near ready. Her gaze shifts to the man of progress. “Do you know how to braid, Jayce?”
“Um…no.”
“Well, today’s the day you learn.” Mel chortles at how flabbergasted he looks. “Oh, don’t look so frightened. It’s simple.”
Jayce hesitates, but Mel knows he could never say no to her. When he agrees, she shows him the basics using a lock of her own hair, and then it’s his try.
“Like this?”
“Not quite. Take three parts and then overlap.”
“Wait, okay, I think I’ve got it now.”
“No!” She laughs, the hardest she’s laughed in weeks. “You’re just tangling it further.”
He pouts, looking like a wounded puppy, and she laughs again. They’re never going to finish in time. Jayce seems to realize it too. “Maybe,” he says, hands resting on her shoulders, “you should just wear it out.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“You can redeem yourself by helping me take these down.”
And he does, helping her unbraid her hair with tenderness her mother never afforded her. Once that’s done, Mel takes a moment to refresh.
“I suppose I should be off,” she announces when she’s finished.
Jayce pecks her cheek. “Have a safe trip. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll only be gone two days.”
“And I’ll miss you all the same.”
Sometimes Mel wonders what she did to deserve his love. She smiles. “Thank you, Jayce. I’ll miss you too.”
Mel is used to receiving compliments. But when she arrives in the neighboring town, she’s taken aback by the adoration for her hair. “Stunning”, “radiant”, “like a halo”, the people say.
Jayce will say he told her so. And as she tells him that she’d secured him some new investors, she’ll admit he was right.