EXCERPT FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF BEKA COOPER:
There was no reason for the scut to do it. I was minding my own business down at the Mantel and Pullet, perhaps drinking more than I ought. Me, Kora and Aniki were enjoying our night off, courtesy of my dogs and the ever-generous Rosto the Rogue. The snow outside was wonderful to watch from the window, where our backs were warmed by the hearth. The barkeep gave us the finest table in the house—whether because he wanted to curry favor to the Dogs or the Court, I don't know. Perhaps both.
Either way, as I sipped my third pint of ale, I noticed a handsome-looking cove giving me the eye. Mayhap the drink that made me feel confident. I didn't look away; my accursed shyness didn't save me the one time it should. He approached, and I remember I smiled. Kora and Aniki were busy flirting with other men, so I felt no guilt picking up one of my own. He pulled up a stool and sat at my side. His white teeth glowed as his mouth pulled back in a smile.
I don't remember much of what was said. We talked, perhaps for the better part of the hour. I let him put his arm around my shoulder. It was the holiday season, after all, and I wasn't quite myself.
Even with drink in me, I still thought like a dog. I noticed the quality of his clothes (moderate leatherwork pants and vest, fine cotton shirt, merchant boots and a winter cloak), the placement of his weapons (a sword and dagger, both hung from his belt), and his physical features (about a head taller than me, broad shouldered, approximately twenty six summers, black hair and hazel eyes). His accent was Gallan, and laced with trade-speak. Looking back, I can't see much reason for a man like him to take an interest in the likes of me.
He invited me to catch some cool air outside with me. The fire, he said, made him over-warm. His offer made sense at the time. I rose and followed him to the tavern's door. The falling flakes greeted us, and I held out my hand to catch a few.
Our conversation continued and our breath hovered in front of us like white smoke. It was cold, and we stood close. I let him wrap one arm around my waist.
He began to twirl his finger lazily around my braid, and I giggled like a normal gixie. When his palm closed around my hair, my hunkerbones tensed. If he intended to hurt me, he was in for a sore surprise. I was accompanied by two of the fiercest mots this side of Cesspool, not to mention that I was trouble enough.
Quicker than I expected, he pulled the dagger from his belt and brought it to the back of my nob. His hand closed hard about my braid as he tried to cut it off. His dagger must've been Raven quality or finer; it sliced through my locks with greater ease than most I've encountered.
His prize was not without price. The spike in my braid bit deeply into his hand, and in the faint light from the tavern, I could see blood seep from between his fingers. Still, he held on, triumphant in his capture.
His triumph lasted less than a second. My arm struck out and my fist connected with his jaw. I hooked my leg around his and sent him tumbling to the ground. My boot stomped hard onto his chest to further knock the wind out of him. Kora and Aniki, who had watched the whole scene from inside, rushed to my aid. But the poxen bugnob wasn't about to go anywhere.
I retrieved my braid from the fallen man and tucked the hair into my purse. I couldn't worry about it at that moment.
I used an impromptu set of cords from the bartender and hauled the merchant man's arse up to the Jane Street Kennel. He was charged with assault of a member of Provost's guard. Ahuda told me privately that the charge probably wouldn't stand, seeing as his only crime had been to cut my hair.
It was, admittedly, an odd sort of attack. I've heard of men who collect odd tokens from their conquests, but I was hardly a conquest. When he was questioned, it turned out he was a trader of fine whigs, though money and trade had been short of late. He had planned to seduce a few mots and take their hair (something he said, he had done in Galla). It was simply bad luck and planning that his first target had been me. He said I'd seemed sweet enough, modest, and perhaps not likely to miss my coif.
Sarden bastard. If only he knew. When I got home, I removed the hair from my purse and studied it under the candlelight. My dark-gold hair, nearly a foot of it, now ruined. There were a few flecks of copper-colored blood drying amongst the strands, and I scrunched my nose in distaste. I'll have to rid myself of that mess tomorrow.
Tonight, I am going to bed alone, remembering why I avoid coves in the first place, and why I should avoid ale in the future.
The Next Day
Rosto woke me this morning by pounding on my door. Pounce mewed cat-insults at the creature who dared wake him early. I fumbled out of bed, pulled on my shirt, and opened the door.
He was smiling and carrying a bag of sweet-smelling pastries.
"Piper, now isn't the best time for breakfast." I told him sourly. Even though he's a king, I still call him Piper. Someone has to remind him he's not Mithros.
"Puppy, you're awake. Might as well enjoy the day." He shouldered past me and into the room.
I groaned, though to be honest, once my nose caught the scent of those pastries, I was glad he had ignored my observation.
We settled on the floor, and I thought it was long past time for me to get a table and chairs for guests. He passed me a pastry, and I ripped off a small piece for Pounce. The purple-eyed prince was also placated by fresh and free food.
"Nice haircut." Rosto mentioned casually.
I winced. I hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror yet. I stood and studied my new appearance. Because of how it'd been cut, my hair was longer at the sides and shorter in the back. I ran my fingers through my hair, and it felt odd not to have something to hold. At least that was one less thing to worry about in a fight.
"I was stupid. I was vain. This was the Goddess's way of telling me to be more careful." I replied. I reached over to my bedside and carefully picked up the braid. "I'd burn it, but that creates an awful smell." I felt like a fool. I feel like an even bigger fool for missing my hair as much as I do.
"I suggest you bury it." Rosto said simply. "That's what I did when it happened to me."
I frowned at him. "It happened to you?" I repeated skeptically. Rosto rarely spoke of his past, and I had no reason to believe he'd be truthful about it.
He smiled, and his black eyes clouded. "My mother thought I was too disrespectful for our family's reputation to endure. Everything from the clothes I wore to the company I kept, to the length of my hair. One day, she cornered me and cut it off."
I had a hard time imagining Rosto being cowed by any mot. "She cut it off and you buried it?"
He nodded solemnly. "In a little grave in the back corner of our land. I left a stone there to mark its resting place."
He sounded genuinely sorrowful.
"Was it white back then?" I asked.
He jumped up, mock offended. "It isn't white now!" He protested.
I snorted. "So you say, Piper. My eyes say different."
He threw up his hands in defeat. "I try to help, and this is the thanks I receive." He directed his comment toward Pounce. The cat shrugged as if to say, 'I deal with her ingratitude all the time.'
"I'm sorry." I apologized. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up, Piper." Even I had to admit he didn't deserve my previous remark. I was unkind as he tried to share a personal story. I hugged my shoulders and stared again into the mirror. I confessed, "I didn't expect last night to be one of my mistakes. Letting the wrong sort of cove get close…" I shuddered. "Mayhap I am like my Ma."
"Cooper, everyone makes mistakes in romance." He replied. From the reflection, I could see he had come to stand behind me. "Don't let one ducknob ruin the experience for you. I meant what I said earlier, this new style is nice." He fingers trailed around the fringe of my newly-cropped hair, and pleasant shivers ran down my spine. He noticed, and his reflection grinned mischievously.
I scowled. "Teasing is no way to cheer a friend." I scolded.
"Who says I'm only teasing?" He purred.
"Not right now, Rosto. I have work to do." I hadn't intended to address him by his first name.
He groaned. "There will always be an excuse with you." He said dryly. Rosto reached over and picked up my severed braid. As he inspected it, a new grin appeared on his face. "As I suspected." He ran his finger lightly over a protruding spike. "Even your hair is dangerous." He placed it back on the table.
In spite of my gloom, my lips twitched into a grin. "Not anymore." I corrected.
He shrugged. "It'll grow back, Cooper. When it does, I'll be careful not to try this again." He plunged his fingers through my newly shortened hair and swept my head back to receive one of his kisses. His mouth was gentle, and the kiss was chaste by his standards. I chose not to punch him this time. However, I did push him away.
"No means no." I said sternly. "I need to get ready to meet my Dogs. You need to get about your own business." I picked up my braid once more. I carefully extracted the spiked leather strap and offered it to him. "Here. I won't need this for a while. I'm not planning to buy you a midwinter gift, so this will have to do. Don't you forget that even my vanities are purposeful."
"I won't forget, Cooper." He promised. I let him kiss me one more time before he disappeared.
Later
It was cursed difficult to dig a hole in the frozen soil, but I did it anyway, after my shift with Goodwin and Tunstall. Tansey let me have some space in her herb garden. She sighed over the wasted hair, and tried to convince me to sell it. I refused, and she knew from the look on my face not to argue any further.
Am I supposed to mourn the loss of my locks? I am upset that I was fool enough to let the mumper nearly bag me. I am upset to have lost the one part of my body that made me look like a normal gixie. But, I more than held my own in the end. The hair will grow back. Tansey says we live and we learn.
I've still got my share of learning to do.