"Absolutely not !."
Jade stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror, his silver eyes narrowed with frustration as Selene's hands worked through his hair with practiced efficiency. The strands—long, thick, and wavy—cascaded past his waist like liquid moonlight, catching the afternoon sun streaming through the mansion's windows.
"It's just hair," Jade said, his tone edging toward exasperation. "I can cut it short and it'll grow back eventually."
"Over my dead body," Niamh said from where she stood beside Selene, her own hands occupied with separating sections of Jade's hair for braiding. "Do you have any idea how long we've been growing this out?"
"Ten years," Jade said flatly. "I'm fully aware. I was there. It's my hair"
Selene gasped dramatically, one hand flying to her chest as if mortally wounded. "You say that like it's been torture! Jade, darling, your hair is magnificent. Do you know how many people would kill for hair like this?"
"Then they can have it," Jade muttered.
In his previous life, Dorian had kept his hair military-short—practical, masculine, easy to maintain. Long hair on a man felt... wrong. Impractical. Too decorative. Every time he caught sight of himself in a mirror, some part of his forty-five-year-old soul recoiled.
But Niamh and Selene had been relentless. "Just let it grow a little longer," they'd said six years ago. "It suits you." And somehow "a little longer" had turned into this—waves of silver-white hair that required constant maintenance and made him look like some kind of ethereal painting come to life.
"I'm cutting it," Jade said, his voice taking on that stubborn edge that usually meant the discussion was over.
Except Selene's emerald eyes immediately filled with tears.
"You—" Her voice wavered, perfectly calculated distress making her lower lip tremble. "You hate it that much? The hair we've spent years caring for? The hair we've brushed and braided and—" A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I see how it is. Our efforts mean nothing to you."
Jade's eye twitched. "That's not what I—"
"We're just silly women fussing over something you find 'burdensome'," Selene continued, her voice breaking beautifully. Another tear. Then another. "Of course. Why would our happiness matter when—"
"Fine!" Jade said, louder than intended. "Fine. I won't cut it. Happy?"
Selene's tears vanished instantly, replaced by a brilliant smile. "Ecstatic! Now hold still while we braid it properly."
Jade caught Niamh's reflection in the mirror—she was fighting back laughter, her shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement. He shot her a betrayed look, which only made her smile wider.
"You're both impossible," Jade muttered.
"And you love us anyway," Niamh said warmly, her fingers gentle as she worked a section of his hair into an intricate braid.
From the bed across the room, Lio's voice rang out with barely suppressed laughter. "Yeah, Jade. Beautiful hair indeed."
Jade's silver eyes cut toward his brother, promising retaliation. Lio—now twenty years old and grown into himself in ways that made Jade occasionally forget the scrawny seventeen-year-old he'd once been—lounged against the pillows with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Lio had gotten taller over the past three years, his frame filling out with lean muscle that came from constant training. His features had sharpened, losing the last softness of adolescence, leaving behind a striking young man with dark hair that fell to his shoulders and warm brown eyes that crinkled with perpetual amusement. His face had matured into something handsome, strong jaw, straight nose, the kind of features that drew appreciative glances without being overwhelming. He looked confident, capable, and right now, extremely pleased with himself.
"Shut up, Lio," Jade said without heat.
"Make me," Lio shot back, his grin widening. "Oh wait, you can't. You're being held hostage by two women and your beautiful, 'magnificent' hair."
"I'm going to freeze your breakfast tomorrow."
"Worth it."
Near the wardrobe, Amara laughed—a bright, genuine sound that filled the room with warmth. She'd been packing bags for the past hour, carefully organizing clothes and supplies for the upcoming journey, but the entertainment value of watching her adoptive brother get bullied was apparently too good to ignore.
"You two are insufferable," Amara said, though her tone carried nothing but affection. At twenty-three, she'd grown into a composed young woman with sharp, intelligent features and her brother's warm eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a practical braid, and her efficient movements spoke of someone who'd spent years managing chaos with grace.
"Leave Jade alone. He's already suffering enough."
"Thank you," Jade said with feeling.
"His beautiful, flowing, absolutely gorgeous hair must be so heavy," Amara continued, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Such a burden to carry."
"I hate all of you," Jade announced to the room.
"No you don't," Selene said cheerfully, her fingers weaving another section of hair into an elaborate pattern that was probably far more complex than necessary. "You adore us. Now stop squirming or I'll have to start over."
Jade forced himself to stillness, though his reflection in the mirror showed clear frustration. The face staring back at him was almost making his tooth ache—too beautiful, too delicate, too ughh.
At seventeen, Jade had grown into features that could only be described as ethereal. His silver-white hair framed a face of impossible symmetry—high cheekbones that caught the light, a straight nose, full lips that seemed perpetually on the edge of a pout he absolutely did not intend. His silver eyes, still carrying those hidden dual pupils behind Spectra's Band's concealment, were large and expressive beneath lashes so long that Selene claimed were "criminally unfair."
His skin remained that pale, luminous quality that seemed to glow softly in certain light—like moonlight made flesh. And despite three years of rigorous training, despite pushing his body to its absolute limits in ways that should have built mass and muscle, he remained frustratingly slender and lithe. Not weak, but lacking the masculine build his forty-five-year-old soul remembered and desperately craved.
In his previous life, Dorian had been tall, broad-shouldered, built like someone who could break bones with his bare hands. Intimidating. Masculine. The kind of presence that made people step aside without him saying a word.
Now? Now he was beautiful. Graceful. Delicate in appearance even though his power could level cities. The kind of beautiful that made people stop and stare, that drew attention he absolutely did not want and could not seem to avoid no matter what he did.
It was infuriating.
"There," Niamh said, stepping back to admire her work. "Perfect."
Jade looked at his reflection and suppressed a sigh. His hair had been braided into an intricate pattern that somehow made him look even more ethereal—sections woven together in elaborate designs that cascaded down his back, with some strands left free to frame his face in soft waves.
He looked like he belonged in a painting. Or a fairy tale. Or literally anywhere except a battlefield.
"I look ridiculous," Jade said.
"You look stunning," Selene corrected firmly, her hands on his shoulders as she met his eyes in the mirror. "Absolutely breathtaking."
That was exactly what Jade was afraid of.
"We leave in three days," Niamh said, her tone shifting to something more practical as she moved to help Amara with the packing. "The ship departs at dawn. We should have everything ready by tomorrow so we can rest the day before departure."
"I still can't believe Amara's letting me leave the planet," Lio said, stretching lazily on the bed like a cat in the sun. "She's been hovering like I'm going to disappear the moment I step foot on a ship."
From the wardrobe, Amara's voice carried clear warning. "Because you have a talent for finding trouble, little brother. Someone needs to make sure you don't forget half your belongings and end up borrowing Jade's clothes for two months."
"That was 'one time'—"
"Three times," Amara corrected, pulling another neatly folded shirt from the wardrobe. "I've counted. Three separate occasions where you've left on trips and forgotten essential items."
"Okay, but two of those were Jade's fault for distracting me—"
"How is it my fault you can't remember to pack socks?" Jade interjected.
"You were sparring with me right before I was supposed to pack!" Lio protested. "You cracked two of my ribs! I was distracted by pain!"
"You asked me to spar with you," Jade pointed out.
"Details," Lio muttered, though he was grinning.
Selene laughed, finally stepping back from Jade's hair to admire the full effect. "You two are ridiculous. Amara, darling, are you sure you don't want to come with them? Keep these children in line?"
"Someone has to manage the shop," Amara said, though her expression grew wistful. "And all the apprentices. Besides, Niamh will keep them from doing anything too stupid."
"I'll certainly try," Niamh said dryly. "Though with these two, that's always an adventure."
Jade finally managed to extract himself from Selene's fussing and moved toward the window, looking out over the mansion's grounds. He'd grown up here and this place had been home since he was seven years old, since the day he'd saved Selene's life and Kael had insisted they move from the dangerous slums into the safety of the Governor's estate.
Ten years. It felt like both forever and no time at all.
The grounds were beautiful as always—manicured gardens, training yards, the distant shimmer of the city beyond the walls. Transport ships crossed the sky in elegant arcs, and somewhere in the distance, Jade could hear the hum of the city's machinery, the endless pulse of life on Nexarion.
He was going to miss this.
Not that he'd admit it out loud.
"Jade?" Niamh's voice was soft, concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Jade said automatically, then amended at her knowing look. "Just... thinking."
"Nervous about the tournament?" she asked, coming to stand beside him.
"No," Jade said honestly. Then paused. "Maybe. Not about the fights. About... everything else."
Niamh understood without him having to explain. The tournament itself didn't worry him—he'd grown stronger over the past three years, had pushed himself relentlessly to ensure he'd never feel helpless again. But the people. The attention. The politics and posturing and thousand small interactions with strangers who would look at him and make assumptions.
That's what made his skin crawl.
"You'll be fine," Niamh said, squeezing his shoulder. "You have Lio and me. We'll handle anything that comes up."
"I know," Jade said quietly. "I just wish..."
He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. Wished he looked different? Wished he could blend into a crowd? Wished his biology hadn't made him into something that drew eyes like a beacon?
All of it. None of it. He didn't know anymore.
"Come on," Selene called from across the room. "Let me see the full effect! Jade, turn around!"
Jade sighed but obeyed, turning so they could see the complete picture—the elaborate braids, the flowing silver hair, the delicate features that belonged on someone else.
Selene pressed both hands to her mouth, her eyes going wide. "Oh. Oh my."
"What?" Jade asked warily.
"You're going to cause problems," Selene said, though she sounded delighted about it. "Serious problems. The kind that start wars."
"That's not funny," Jade said.
"I'm not joking!" Selene insisted. "Darling, you're devastating. I mean, you've always been beautiful, but with your hair done up like this? And you've grown into your features?" She fanned herself dramatically. "If I wasn't mated to Kael, I'd be concerned about my self-control."
"Selene!" Niamh scolded, though she was smiling.
"I'm just being honest!" Selene protested. "Look at him! He's going to walk onto that tournament planet and people are going to lose their minds."
From the wardrobe, Amara had gone quiet. Jade glanced over and found her staring at him, her expression thoughtful and slightly troubled.
"What?" Jade asked.
Amara bit her lip, clearly debating whether to say what she was thinking. Then she set down the shirt she'd been folding and spoke slowly, carefully.
"Jade... your beauty.... It's too much."
Everyone in the room stopped. Turned. Stared at Amara.
Then they all suddenly burst out into loud laughter.
Jade felt heat crawling up his neck, spreading across his face with horrifying speed. His ears burned. His entire face felt like it was on fire.
But Amara's expression was serious, worried. "Jade. You're too beautiful. Will people really believe you're a beta?"
The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to detonate.
Everyone was staring at him now. At his face, which was definitely the color of a ripe tomato. At the way he'd frozen completely, unable to form words, his forty-five-year-old soul absolutely mortified by this turn in conversation.
The braids that had seemed merely inconvenient moments ago now felt like a noose, drawing attention to features he'd rather people ignored entirely.
And from the expressions on everyone's faces—Niamh's dawning concern, Selene's wide-eyed realization, Lio's sudden seriousness, Amara's worry—they all knew she had a point.
....