Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Twenty Nine

"Tamlin? Are you awake yet?" Cin pounded on the doors of Tamlin's bedchambers, made of pine wood.

It was well past noon, and she was running late while he was nowhere to be found. Usually, she would locate him in the foyer or moping around the Great Hall near the golden throne adorned with carved roses.

But this morning, he was absent. She was late because Neda had insisted on her delivering a bag of old clothes to Gaol, and once she arrived, Gaol had engaged her in a conversation about the children.

"Just come in, Cin. I'm in the bathing room," he called out from behind the closed door. Rolling her eyes, Cin twisted the handle and pushed the doors open.

The room had an immediate brown ambiance, which took her eyes a moment to adjust to. Tamlin had adorned his chambers with various shades of soft brown and a creamy-ivory white color. Stepping inside from the hallway, Cin entered the sitting room. She descended two steps into the lowered sitting area, where plush velvet sofas encircled an ornate coffee table and a furry carpet. She couldn't discern the animal it had come from, but she knew it was sourced from one. Tamlin had constructed each piece of furniture himself and then upholstered them with materials he purchased from the villages they visited.

At the opposite end of the lowered sitting area stood the grand balcony he had built, with two potted plants flanking the door. To the right, above the lowered area, was Tamlin's bedroom, separated by a long room divider that stretched the length of the bed. And to her left was the bathing room where she knew he was.

"Please be clothed," Cin mused aloud as she ventured into the bathing room, finding the frosted glass door left ajar.

The bathing room exhibited the same color scheme, but the browns were much softer, almost blending with the creamy tones. It housed a bathtub large enough to accommodate at least five adults, alongside twin basins and a long arched mirror. A porcelain chamber pot sat off to the side.

Tamlin stood fully clothed in his customary brown and green tunic before the mirror, his gaze almost glaring at his own reflection. His hair cascaded loosely around his shoulders, reaching halfway down his back and still damp from his morning bath. "Admiring your features now? Who knew you had some vanity in you."

"I want to cut my hair," he declared, meeting her eyes through the mirror. His hair receded all the way up his back, resembling the length it had been when he masqueraded as a boy named 'Rustar.' "I want to cut it this short."

"You—what?" Cin choked. "But it's so soft and beautiful."

Not to mention she had grown quite fond of the bun he typically styled his hair in.

"It may sound silly, but I feel that if I cut it short, it will symbolize the changes I'm making. As if it's the beginning of a new era," Tamlin explained with hope in his voice. He sighed, "As if a haircut is the only way I can physically show myself that the change is real and permanent."

Cin understood his intentions and the reasoning behind them. "Luckily, your magic allows you to alter your hair at will."

"Uh... no," Tamlin said as his hair cascaded down his back once more. "Think of my shapeshifting more like a rubber ball than a clay mold. I can maintain a form for hours, even days, but eventually, I'll snap back to my own body. So for a change like that, I would actually need to cut it."

"Let me do it," she quickly offered.

"Another hidden talent of yours?" He threw a smirk over his shoulder.

"I've been trimming Papa, Bron, and the merry men's hair for years. I know my way around a pair of shears," Cin replied, rolling her eyes as she backed out through the door. She knew exactly where to find a pair of shears. She had brought one with her from home, thinking she would use it somewhere around the Manor, and had left it in her satchel on the table by the oak doors.