“Of course,” I chuckle. “Max needs his hair done if you need yours done. That’s the rule.”
Her lips twitch.
I start the first braid, weaving slowly, pausing every few inches to make sure I am not pulling. Lily watches me in the mirror with those serious dark eyes, and then she yawns, and I catch the tiny gleam of her baby fangs on her lower lip and I have to look away for a second because that darling face is going to kill me.
She is the cutest small “vampire” in the whole world. I’ve learned that Krovenians don’t really like being called vampires and that this is an entirely human-invented word, they preferred to be called by their species name, which is Krovenian. It’s hard though for me to stop secretly calling them vampires in my head.
“Hazel?”
“Yes?”
She watches me in the mirror. “Hazel, do you have a mama?”
The question is so small and direct. I keep my face neutral and answer truthfully. “I did have a mother, but she passed away when I was little.”
Lily’s expression doesn’t change. She just keeps watching me in the mirror. “Mine too,” she whispers. “She died two years ago.”
“My mommy died of a long sickness at the hospital when I was in Kindergarten,” I explain, because I figure she wants to know more.
She nods quietly but doesn’t continue the conversation, so I don’t say more, just let her process what she’s learned so far.
I finish the braid and tie it off with a little white ribbon, then I move to the other side and start the second one. I adore spending time with this girl. This really doesn’t feel like a hard job at all, more like pleasant time spent with a small child I want to help blossom into a confident, chatty, little girl. I’ve grown to care for her deeply in just the last five days and I want her happy, and not just because this is my job but because I have a huge soft spot for this little Krovenian with the fancy title.
Finally, she asks, “Did she brush your hair?”
I think about it for a sec. “Yeah, she did. My mom was really good about making sure it didn’t hurt when she did my hair.”
Lily smiles. “It doesn’t hurt whenyoubrush my hair.”
I grin. “That’s because I know that it’s possible to be careful and make sure it doesn’t hurt.” I tie off the second braid, thenbend down so my face is level with hers in the mirror, and I smile at her, gentle and warm. “There. Two braids.”
She studies herself in the mirror with the serious, considering expression of a tiny queen. Then she nods once, decisively. “Good.”
I let out a small breath I didn’t know I was holding, then I open my notebook and jot down two quick observations with date and time.Engaged in reciprocal conversation. Referred to her mother, asked me about my mother. Eye contact sustained for full conversation.I close it before she asks what I am writing. I’ve been keeping notes since day one. Sleep patterns. Food intake. Words spoken. Emotional moments. It helps me keep track of progress.
“Hazel?”
“Yes?”
“Is papa back home yet?”
She asks this question often, letting me know she misses her father greatly when he’s gone, but I know that he calls her each night and Madam Petrova helps her with the tablet so she can facetime with him. But she’s always eager to see him back home, at the castle with her. This little girl obviously loves her father, which is sweet.
I force myself to respond with an almost flat affect. “I think so. I know he came home last night.” But inside, my body heats up again, literal butterflies flittering in my belly as I think of that moment when I met her outrageously handsome father in the kitchen. His dark eyes roaming up and down my body. Remembering how he told me to leave. And he said to call him Viktor?
“Maybe he’ll be downstairs for breakfast?” I comment.
Her grip on Max tightens just a little, and she looks down at the floor.
“Should we go down and find out together?”
She nods.
I take her tiny, cool hand in mine. Krovenian children run a few degrees cooler than human children. Their bodies don’t generate as much heat. Her hand in mine feels like she has been holding a cold glass — not unpleasant, justdifferent.Like everything else here.
We head down to breakfast together, Lily holding my hand, Max held firmly in the other.
Viktor does not cometo breakfast.
