Chapter Twenty-Four

“It is a shame that there is no lady’s maid,” Tarragon observed. “A dragon’s braid is hardly the height of Fae fashion.”

“You are doing very well,” I told her. In the polished metal of the looking-glass, I could see that she had started the braids over my ears, in several thicknesses, and was winding them back into each other. “Father would be proud.”

She flashed me a grin in the reflection. “It is a pity you will not let me use any of the pins,” she returned her eyes to her work. “I understand why, but they would look fair in your hair.”

I had explored the various dainty little boxes on the dresser and the drawers, finding pins and other trinkets that a lady would use to do her hair and decorate it, as well as the remains of cosmetics and perfumed water. In one drawer were miniatures of the family – a little folding frame. On one side was a very pretty woman with Aien’s eyes. To the other, a little boy whose face was lit with rosy-cheeked happiness. Aien - before the loss of his mo