Daisy's Decision (Icehome)
CHAPTER 1
DAISY
Veronica’s hands are cool as they move over my scalp. —“This is growing back in beautifully,” she reassures me as my head tingles. “Everything is nice and thick.”
I remain still, taking her word for it. I haven’t looked in my mirror—or the shiny piece of metal that serves as a mirror—since the accident. I know I look hideous and it’s nice of her to try to reassure me. “It feels like it’s growing when you touch it.”
“It is, actually.” Veronica sounds impressed with herself. “It’ll reach below your shoulders soon. Give me a week.”
As long as it’s not stubble, I’ll be happy. “Your healing power is amazing. I’m surprised you can make my hair grow.”
“The more I heal, the more I learn it’s about encouraging certain parts of the body to pay attention,” she says with a chuckle. “Hair, skin, bones, it all breaks down to encouragement.”
I hope she’s right. I stay in place, trying not to interrupt as the healer works. Something brushes against my ear, though, and I can’t resist touching it. My hair feels longer, all right. When I fell into the fire, my hair burned along with my face and arms. They cut off everything on one side while I was unconscious from the pain, and when I woke up and realized the butchered mess it was, vanity made me shave the rest.
Or rather, I made Bridget do it since I won’t look in a mirror.
Even now, just thinking about the accident makes me emotional. It’s been months and months. I don’t regret pitching myself forward and falling into the fire to knock N’rav out of the way. But I hate how ugly I am and how sad it’s made me. I came to this planet looking for a mate and to start a family of my own. I wanted a happy ever after and love.
After three years, though, all I’ve got are scars on my once beautiful face and an empty hut. I haven’t resonated. I have no mate.
I feel cheated.
Despair threatens to overwhelm me again and I swallow hard, fighting back tears. I don’t want Veronica to know how I feel. She’s been trying her best to heal the damage from the accident a little bit at a time. And she has been. My scars have been going down. They no longer feel upraised and rough when I touch my face. Now the skin is very, very smooth—too smooth—and Bridget assures me that it’s splotchy red but no longer as awful to look at. I can see the splotchiness on my arms and hands and it makes me cringe at the sight against my fair skin, skin that I’ve worked so hard to protect and keep beautiful.
If I was back home on Praxii, Johani would have declared me unfit to be his mate and cast me aside.
I don’t like to think about that.
I pull the lock of hair forward, and it’s just long enough for me to see it. Sure enough, it’s my hair. It’s a paler blonde than the warm red-gold it was before, but I have vague memories of Johani declaring that he liked a “sunrise” color more than a “noon” color, and so I’d had it modified. I guess the modification didn’t carry through now that Veronica’s re-growing it.
Oh well. Johani isn’t here. It does no good to think about his likes or dislikes.
“Whew,” Veronica says after a time. “I am absolutely beat.” She collapses on the furs next to me dramatically, and her face does indeed seem a little pale. Strange how her magic takes so much out of her when I only feel a little of it each time. “Give me a moment to catch my breath.”