Her hair was finer than mine, I learned, as I ran my fingers through it. It slid away from me when I tried to grasp it, finer than the finest thread I could have spun. I did not know if even my mother could have worked with it, and she was the greatest spinner I had ever known. I leaned forward and used both hands: one to hold the knife, and the other to try gathering up her hair.
It would have to be done in small parts, I realized immediately. This was not going to be a quick job. I set my teeth and cut away from her skull to spare her from any accidental slips of the blade. I cut my own fingers twice before I got the hang of it. It was slow work, and she did not move while I did it. I crossed the even dome of her skull, taking more care around her ears, and finally traced the back of her head, where the muscles in her neck were quivering from the effort to stay motionless.
At last I was done, and I brushed the knife blade in the grass.
“Thank you, Yashaa,” she said. She wrapped the veil around her head so quickly, I thought she might get her hands caught in it.
“You’re welcome, princess,” I said. Her shoulders slumped, just a little bit, but then straightened again as she got to her feet.
“I’ll go and make sure we have enough water for dinner, then,” she said, and fairly fled across the ledge before I could even get to my feet.
She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the evening. I knew I had not offended her, but I wondered if perhaps she might be upset at how she was forced to air all of her weaknesses before me. That could not be an easy way to live. Even if she knew I would never press an advantage on her, she must find it difficult to trust that it was so, trust it all the way to her bones. Worse, if the Maker King’s son was as awful as she thought, then letting her guard down at all—even around trusted companions—would only lead to future danger.
She had told me that she loved Arwa’s informality with her, and I had thought she might have been, however indirectly, asking me to follow the younger girl’s example. Now, though, I was less sure of it. I could be kind to her and remind her who she was at the same time; moreover, I could remind her that it was all right if she stayed guarded around me forever. It was not my first choice, but it would help her after she married. It was probably the only thing I could give her. If she ever left us, I would never see her again. We had, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped her. It was not as though we could expect an invitation to her wedding.
And if we stayed in the mountains? If a piskey flew right in front of us tomorrow and stopped to talk, and it had all the answers we needed, then we could break the curse and return to Kharuf in triumphant glory. Ah, but I discarded that thought as soon as I had it. We had seen no evidence of piskeys in the mountains, and we were too isolated here; there was no way to gather new information, and we had no idea what her parents were doing to find her. No, in all likelihood the Little Rose would have to leave the mountains, and break the curse far from the shelter we had found here. It was not going to be so easy to be in her service.
We needed distance, again—the distance we had given one another before we met that night in the tower, when I had been but a shadowed memory, and she had been the princess I would never see properly enthroned. So when she went to bed that night, I climbed back up to the lookout perch that Saoud and I had built and took up the watch there. It was dark and quiet. Only the stars were out above me, shining bright in the blackness of the sky. Saoud’s father had told us that the stars moved, the same as our own sun did, and that they were very far away. I wanted to be far away, too, far from the Little Rose and her curse. Maybe if I took my mother there, she would get better.
But I knew I couldn’t. I had promised my mother to help what remained of Kharuf’s spinners, and I had promised the Little Rose that I would help her break her curse, no matter how dark the magic got. I was held by both of those promises.
I heard a noise below me, and drew my knife. It could be anything: animal, demon, creature. Friend or foe. I breathed the way Saoud’s father had taught us, slowly and taking care not to hiss. And then my heart lightened.
Saoud stepped into view, a large pack on his back, and Arwa and Tariq were behind him. My worries did not disappear, but they shifted. Tariq would have ideas, Saoud would have plans, Arwa would make them work.
“Yashaa?” said Saoud. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” I said, and swung down from the tree. I threw my arms around his neck. He returned the embrace, but there was a slowness to it that gave me pause.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“Let’s go down,” said Saoud. I reached for Arwa and Tariq, and they reached back. “The Little Rose should hear this, too.”