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"I assume my hairstyles are out of fashion?" I asked Czari's reflection in the mirror.
"I didn't want to be rude…" Czari replied carefully.
I snorted. "Would you prefer I walk around embarrassing myself with an out of date style?" I asked. As if I cared about that shit.
From the look on Czari's face, the servant didn't realise I was joking. Or she didn't think I was funny. Naw, it couldn't be that. I'm hilarious.
"Certainly not," the servant replied. "The very idea—" She stopped and blinked a few times before she smiled. "Is that witch humour?"
I smiled wryly. "You might call it that, I suppose."
Czari nodded. "Sorry. Sometimes it can be hard to tell." She looked over her shoulder as though we weren't alone and lowered her voice. "Some of the women here get offended if a servant laughs when they say things they don't intend to be funny."
"Maybe witches and shifters aren't so different," I said. "Plenty of witches would throw the nearest chair if someone did that to them." To say witches were touchy was an understatement. At least, the ones I knew were. After the coming of age ceremony anyway. The whole lot lost their sense of humour around me the moment I knelt. Fucking Hades and his fucking sense of humour. I shouldn't provoke a god, but he could be such an asshole.
Czari looked miffed, but I wasn't sure if it was a response to the comparison, or the idea someone would throw furniture for trivial reasons. It was rather extreme, but witches were proud, to a fault and beyond. Fortunately I rarely took offence to anyone who laughed at me. Life was way too short for that.
Czari braided my hair in a style that didn't look all that different to how I wore it, but then slid two clips into the sides of my hair. Shaped like long, sinuous dragons, they looked made of real gold. Rubies and sapphires covered their bodies and emeralds made a pair of glittering eyes. They must have been worth a Keeper's ransom. For all I knew, they were really made of glass and stainless steel. I would prefer it if they were. I would feel less guilty if I lost them then.
"A gift from the Keeper," Czari said, patting them into place gently.
Who else?
"Thank you, Czari." I touched a clip lightly with the tips of my fingers. Unlike the dragon scale, I felt no power in the clips. That was fortunate, but not surprising. Outside of actual artefacts, I'd never felt power in inanimate objects like these. I had no reason to think I would now. It wasn't as though Dex would give me artefacts to wear around in my hair. Unless of course, he had something to gain from doing so. I guess I couldn't rule anything out.
"You're welcome." Czari put down the brush and stepped aside to let me stand. What would it take for them to believe I didn't need a nursemaid? Although, was that all she was? Her job might also include spying on me and reporting back to Dex or whoever else. The Alpha maybe.
I heard voices coming from outside my room, not loud enough for me to understand what they were saying. From the unhurried tones, they were just having a chat. Perhaps about nothing more important than the weather.
I glanced at Czari, who nodded and smiled.
"I'm sure they won't bite," she said. Apparently she forgot I might.
I recalled the woman on the terrace yesterday. I wasn't absolutely certain they wouldn't bite. Or at least try to.
Lucky for me, I could take care of myself.
On bare feet, I stepped out into the courtyard.
The sun was barely up. Why in Hades name was I up this early? I woke up an hour ago, at least. Something about this place threw off my internal clock. I was a night witch, usually, and slept most of the day. I didn't plan on changing that. I'd have to work on resetting myself somehow.
A group of children ran past, kicking a ball back and forth between them. They ranged in age from four or five to around eight. Several were girls dressed in the same style of loose pants and blouses Calista wore.
I all but heard my mother click her tongue at the idea of girls dressed like little adults. At least they weren't wearing short skirts and shirts with plunging necklines, like some of the clothes I saw for sale in human shops. Growing up was hard enough without doing it when you're nine. Still, the clothes did look hard to run around in. Maybe if they saw enough of me, they'd all start wearing jeans.
Viva Taylor, fashion icon. That had a ring to it.
The children ran on by, pausing only to glance at me with open curiosity before the game drew their attention back. One of the girls kicked the ball into the space between two sticks embedded in the ground. She squealed with excitement and ran after it, the others close behind.
"Wherever I go in the world, someone is always playing soccer." A woman stood a few metres away, a slow smile to match the way she spoke. "Or football, if you want to call it that."
"It is?" I asked. I was more interested in making a friend here than I was in sport, but it didn't hurt to be polite.
"Oh yes." The woman closed the distance between us. "It was invented after a bitter battle between witches and shifters, around three thousand years ago. They started kicking the severed heads of their enemies back and forth between swords they thrust blade-down in the dirt or sand. Terrible for the blade." She grimaced and brushed black hair back from her face.
"Ah. That's…nice." I wrinkled my nose. "Who won?"
"The game or the battle?" She shrugged. "I don't know the answer to either. I'm Zophia." She pronounced it 'zoe-fy-uh'. "And you are?"
