CHAPTER 7
Lilani had somehow convinced Ariella to braid her hair.
She wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One moment she’d been sitting by the fire, watching Valrek efficiently gut some small silver fish, and the next Lilani had climbed into her lap with a carved wooden comb and a look of absolute determination.
“Papa tries,” the little girl explained, her golden eyes solemn. “But his fingers are too big. He makes knots.”
From across the fire, Valrek made a sound that might have been embarrassment. “I don’t make knots. Your hair is… complicated.”
“It’s curly, Papa. That’s not the same as complicated.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. The interaction was so normal, so domestic, that it made her chest ache with longing. This was what she’d missed, growing up in the sterile confines of her father’s laboratory. Not just a parent, but a family, the sense of belonging to something larger than yourself.
“Hold still,” she murmured, running the comb through Lilani’s wild curls. The little girl’s hair was surprisingly soft, with a texture that wasn’t quite human. “I’ll try not to pull.”
“You won’t hurt me. Papa says you’re gentle.”
She glanced up to find Valrek staring at her, his golden eyes unreadable. A flush crept up her neck, her bioluminescent patches flickering.
“Did he?” she managed.
“He said it when you were washing the fruit.” Lilani twisted to look at her father. “You said she was gentle and that her hands were very soft and?—”
“Lilani.” His voice was a low growl, but there was no real threat in it. “I thought we agreed that some conversations are private.”
“But she should know! She probably thinks you don’t like her because you’re so grumpy all the time. I wanted her to know that you do like her, even if you’re bad at showing it.”
The flush spread from her neck to her cheeks. She focused intently on Lilani’s hair, separating it into three sections and beginning a simple braid. Her webbed fingers made the work slightly awkward, but the little girl didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not grumpy,” he muttered, returning his attention to the fish.
“You’re a little grumpy, Papa.”
“I’m… cautious. There’s a difference.”
Lilani turned to her with a conspiratorial whisper that was loud enough to echo off the cave walls. “He’s grumpy.”
This time she couldn’t hold back the laugh. It bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her, light and unfamiliar, and the sound seemed to freeze both Vultor in place. Valrek’s knife stopped mid-slice, and Lilani’s eyes went wide with delight.
“You laughed!” the little girl exclaimed. “Papa, did you hear? She laughed! Do it again!”
“I… it doesn’t work like that.”
“But it was so pretty! Like bells, but underwater bells. The kind that fish would ring.”
“Fish don’t ring bells, sweetheart.”
“The ones in my dreams do.”
She tied off the braid with a strip of leather Lilani had produced from somewhere and sat back to admire her work. It wasn’t perfect, but Lilani seemed thrilled.
“It’s beautiful!” She scrambled off Ariella’s lap and ran to a small mirror near the basin, peering at her reflection. “Look, Papa! I look like a real princess!”
“You always look like a real princess.”
“But now I look like a princess with good hair.” She twirled experimentally, her braid swinging. “Can we keep her?”
The question hung in the air, innocent and devastating. Her skin flickered through a rapid series of colors, and she found herself unable to look at Valrek.
