Dejonnnera lay on her stomach on
the table, tapping an idle rhythm with the tops of her feet against the silk
cover. She had an itch on her nose, but Kefahn had her arms straight by her
sides, carefully stroking the dye brush above her skin. It wouldn’t do for the
princesse to get dye on her arms. Dejonnera rolled her eyes at the thought, as
her mother swept into the heated bathroom to oversee Kefahn’s work.
A tremor, a dip of the brush too
low, and Dejonnera felt it against her ribcage. She heard her mother’s sharp
intake of breath and winced as the swish of heavy robes was followed by a loud
slap against Kefahn’s skin. The bowl and brush spattered on the floor. Tears
stung Dejonnera’s eyes, but she dared not move. She might ruin Kefahn’s
work—and further incur her mother’s wrath.
“Get out! Imbecile!” her mother
snapped. “Useless! Go back to your—”
“No, mother!” Dejonnera risked
interruption. The Queen was not one to go back on her word, no matter how
carelessly uttered. “Please send Kefahn back to my rooms. I will deal with her
when I return,” she begged.
The Queen tsked, but said, “Very
well. Obey my daughter, if you think you can manage that without making a mess
of it.” She pushed the cowering servant away with her foot and called to
another, standing against the wall, no doubt wishing for invisibility.
Dejonnera saw her scramble to pick
up the bowl and brush. As the girl, younger than herself, stood near her head,
Dejonnera whispered, “Deep breath, hold, then brush. Start on my back, where no
one will see.”
Her mother snapped, “You spoil
them, Dejonnera.”
She took her own deep breath, but
replied calmly, “Perhaps, Mother. But Kefahn did not make a mistake until you
arrived. Look, my face and arms are perfect.”
Her mother sniffed and walked
around the table, tapping the silk cover with her long, red-lacquered
fingernails. “Hmph,” she said. “No one will see your poor father’s influence,
anyway.” Almost a compliment. Married to an insult, as always.
Dejonnera actually loved the look
of the pale lavender hair she inherited from her father’s tribe. She endured
her mother’s demands to have it all dyed jet black for now, but she dreamed of
the day when she could make her own choices.
For now, she kept silent as the
new servant began stroking the dye brush over the delicate hairs across her
back. She moved slowly, drawing the brush in short strokes, but this proved
faster than Kefahn’s technique, and soon she was covering the hairs on
Dejonnera’s calves.
Finally, Dejonnera sat up and slid
off the table, standing proudly for her mother’s inspection. Her long hair fell
in waves down her back. She held out her arms in a dancer’s pose to show the
black hairs Kefahn had so carefully dyed before her mother came in. She did not
need a mirror to know her cheeks, lip and eyebrows were now covered with the
same fine black hairs, so prized by her mother’s tribe.
“Well?” she asked archly, as her
mother walked around her, clicking one long nail against her perfectly white
teeth.
“You’ll do,” was the kind of
praise she had long come to expect.
One day, Dejonnera swore to
herself. One day…
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Dogs in house
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Houdini, Brindle
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Time writing
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30 minutes
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December word
count
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4,288
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