an unkindness of ravens

seize

— seize ; sixteen —

LOREN'S ROOM WAS DOWN the Red Hall, so for the first time during his stay at Castle Evermore, Henri got take a trip down the right wing of dormitories. It didn't appear to be any different, the same black walls and doors. Loren's room was four doors down and didn't appear to be any different from Henri's room, besides being slightly smaller. He soon realised that wasn't much of a problem when he saw the far side of Loren's room was untouched and empty. The bed was made and didn't look as if it had ever been slept in.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You get your own room?"

"Apparently so," she said. "There are only three women on the team, and the other two share a room. They didn't have a choice but to let me have my own room."

"That is so incredibly unfair," Henri said sullenly. "I'm stuck fighting for bathroom time and you get this place all to yourself."

Although, Henri wasn't sure why he was complaining when his rooming situation certainly reaped its own benefits. It had been insufferable to begin with, arguing with Soren over everything — keeping the room clean, who was allowed a shower and why Henri took such an ungodly time showering (he didn't, Soren was just finding excuses to hate him) and Henri's biggest pet peeve, the lamp. He couldn't sleep with any light but Soren insisted on keeping it on so he could read. Long fruitless bickering over it ended in Henri having to curl up under the covers to block the stupid lamp out.

Now it was a private place he could do whatever he wanted with Soren and no one would intrude. Whoever had thought to give the bedrooms locks had had the right idea.

Loren led him into her bathroom, which was considerably cleaner than his own, and motioned for him to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. She rummaged around in her cabinet before removing a comb and scissors.

"Any particular look you're going for?"

"I'm not picky," Henri said, amused. "If I could pull off a Mohawk, I'd go for that. Guess I'll just settle for a trim to get the hair out of my eyes."

Loren smiled and stood in front of him, tipping his chin up so she could reach his hair easily. "For what it's worth, I think you'd look great with a Mohawk."

"Maybe next time, then."

Loren sprinkled water over his hair to make it damp and combed the curls down over his eyes. Henri went still as she brought the scissors up to his face, hovering a little too close to his eyes for his liking.

"How did you end up being Soren's hairdresser, anyway?" Henri asked, more to distract himself from the sharp object an inch away from his face than anything. "It doesn't sound like the best career to land."

Loren snipped at his hair. "I didn't exactly have a choice. My mum wouldn't give us money to pay for a haircut and she certainly wouldn't do it herself."

"Your mum?"

"Didn't Soren tell you?" Loren brushed some stray black strands into the sink. "We grew up with her."

"Soren doesn't speak to me unless strictly necessary, but yeah, I think he mentioned it," Henri said. "If she's your mum, then she must be his aunt. Why did he stay with you?"

Loren didn't reply and Henri glanced up at her through jagged pieces of hair, wondering whether he'd overstepped the boundaries. She didn't look angry but her green eyes, so similar to Soren's, were thoughtful as if considering what response to give. "I think that's his story to tell," she said finally.