[LEGACY VERSION] The Enemy of Time (Book 2 - The Kaireyeh Chronicles)

Chapter 10 - Damon, Edora

Damon poked at his face, watching his hand poke at Alexi's tan, sharp nose in the washroom mirror. He looked younger than Alexi, maybe by ten years.

He was Alexi. Alexi was him. How by the gods was that possible?

Someone knocked on the corridor hatch and he jumped.

"Damon?" Milla asked, her voice muffled.

He licked his lips.

"Damon, I gave you two days. I'm coming in."

The hatch lock clicked and she barged into the main compartment, brandishing something metallic.

Damon's hand shot to his arm and he drew the halo knife.

Milla skidded to a stop. Her eyes darted to the knife, and then to the automatic razor she held. "Sorry," she muttered. She dropped her hand, and the razor, to her side.

Damon retracted the knife, his face burning. He mumbled an excuse and retreated to the washroom.

Milla followed.

"For your hair," she said, waggling the razor. Her words were light, but he felt her watching his every movement. Waiting for him to do something crazy again? Who knew what he would do? He wasn't himself.

Damon blinked and refocused on the razor. "Wait, what? My hair?"

"Have you seen your hair?"

He scowled and swiped at another black curl that had fallen into his eyes. "I don't need--"

Milla flipped down the toilet lid. "Sit."

"Milla--"

She flicked a switch on the razor and it made a menacing whine.

"You look too much like him," she said. "I don't think that's good for anyone. I don't think that's good for you."

Damon didn't move as she plowed the razor through the center of his hair. She bared her teeth, sheering off curls that fell to cover his chest, his arms, his legs. Curls built a pile around them on the deck.

Damon watched Milla's eyes, dark and intent on her task. She hadn't said what she thought of him being Alexi.

She met his gaze once, then pressed her lips into a tight line that made him think of Elise, her mother, and kept sheering off his hair.

She turned off the razor and the motor wound down.

For a moment, they were both still.

Damon ran a hesitant hand over his head. He felt stubble, but a decent amount of it. She hadn't, at least, shaved it all off.

He looked up at her, acutely aware that she could see his face, all of his face. He had never liked to wear his hair short unless one of his overseers demanded it. They seldom had.

"Feel better?" Milla asked.

Damon stood and brushed at his clothes before giving up and turning to the mirror.

With his hair mostly gone, the sharp edges of his face stood out even more. His eyes were bluer than blue should be. He looked Kynaston, but Milla had been right. Without all the hair, he didn't look as much like Alexi. Like Alexi had looked.

Damon's thoughts went, unbidden, to imagining the mass of Alexi's silver curls around his own face to compare. Of seeing his skin like white marble, his eyes reflective gold.

He shuddered.

"Get a shower," Milla said. "You haven't been. I'll be back shortly."

The shower, at least, cleared some of the thoughts churning in his head. With his skin still bleeding steam, and in a fresh set of borrowed clothes--the borrowed clothes he'd first been given were too big now--Damon followed Milla out the main hatch.