Page 9 of Where We Began

The women share a look, blocking me against the corner of the bedroom. The scissors glint in the light. “If you don't calm down, I'll cut off more than your hair, girl.”

My eyes flash. “Try it.”

Soft arms snatch at me. I duck, but I end up in the solid grip of the wiry maid. She pins my hands to my hips. “Now just—oof!” Air explodes from her lungs when I get an elbow free and jam it into her belly. “You little... get her, Emma!”

A fist tangles in my hair. Filling my chest, I screech and howl. They're treating me like a wild animal so I embrace it. I channel my inner wolf, my feral spirit, my desire to keep every strand of hair on my head.

Emma shoves me to the smooth floorboards. “Get off of me!” I say, working to escape. The second woman sits on my legs. I'm tough, but I can't beat them both. There are scalding tears in my eyes. “Leave... me... alone!”

“What's going on in here?”

In the doorway stands a boy. I'm not quite sure from where I am on the floor, but he looks my height, his limbs as skinny as mine, his face on the verge between gentle youth and the leaning-out of older teens.

I don't know who he is. But I recognize a kindness in his deep, chocolate-brown eyes that no one has shown me since I arrived. “Help,” I say. “They're trying to cut off all my hair.”

“Nonsense,” Emma huffs. I hear the scissorsswishin the air. “It'll just be some trimming. She's got mud and who knows what else in here.”

The boy considers me. “Let her up.”

“Master Dominic...”

He focuses on the maid, his tone a razor blade. “I said get off of her. Now.”

Their weight vanishes. Sucking in oxygen, I scramble to my feet. My eyes dart between all three of them; I'm still ready to fight.

The boy—Dominic?—jerks his head at the door. “Get out of here.” The maids shuffle away like dogs tucking their tails. When they're gone, I breathe easier.

“Thank you,” I say, looking the stranger over with new eyes. I was wrong about his height; I'm a little taller than him. “How old are you?” I ask.

His smile gives him a single dimple. “You don't want to know my name first?”

“They said it. Dominic, right?”

His smile goes wider. It makes him look even younger. “Yes, and you must be Laiken.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

Dominic cocks his head, seeming unsure about me. He's wearing a half-sleeved shirt the same off-white color of an eggshell. It makes his hair stark. “I'm twelve.”

“Same.” I'm happy that he's twelve, like me. Makes him feel kindred. I step closer, lifting my hand to my scalp. “It's funny that I'm taller.”

His ears turn red. “Have you never met a guy shorter than you before?”

“You're the first boy I've ever gotten this close to.”

“I'm not aboy,” he says, squinting. “I'll be thirteen next month. How have you never met any others?”

“Just haven't.” Running my hands through my hair, I squeeze it, wrapping it in my fist. The door is open and I'm wondering if I can run and hide somewhere. I don't want the maids to find me again.

He follows my eyes. “If you don't want your hair cut, I'll tell them to leave you alone for good.”

My mouth drops open. “Can you really?”

“Of course. They'll listen to me. My parents own this whole place.”

I harden my grip around my hair so much that my roots tingle. “You're Annie's son,” I whisper. I start backing away.

“Whoa, hey.” Dominic holds up a hand. “It's okay.”

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