“You made me cut and dye my hair.”Surely he understands that we face greater problems? “I thought it would greatly improve your looks,” I snap.“Shorn hair is a sign of shame. You humiliate me greatly.”“I’ll light a candle tonight in honor of your dead tresses.”

“He smiles but I note that it doesn’t reach his eyes. I hit a nerve there and I smile smugly to myself. If I was looking for a sign from God whether or not I should tell him my secrets, the awful things that happened to me, then that lie from the good doctor was the sign I was looking for. How can you trust someone who lies to you about something so stupid as dyeing their hair? Would you share your deepest darkest secrets with them? I think not.”

“We all grasp on to a single idea of ourselves, the way aging people dye their hair. It’s no matter that this dye doesn’t fool you. My lady, you don’t dye your hair to decieve other people, or to fool yourself, but rather to cheat your image in your mirror a little.”

“As far back as I can remember, whenever you used to look at me, your face would light up as if someone had lit a candle inside you.”

“I know your character. I know you're going to be a great guardian.”His confidence made that warm feeling return. "I'm glad someone does. Everyone else thinks I'm totally irresponsible.”"With the way you worry more about Lissa than yourself…" He shook his head. "No. You understand your responsibilities better than guardians twice your age. You'll do what you have to do to succeed.”I thought about that. "I don't know if I can do everything I have to do.”He did that cool one-eyebrow thing."I don't want to cut my hair," I explained.He looked puzzled. "You don't have to cut your hair. It's not required.”"All the other guardian women do. They show off their tattoos.”Unexpectedly, he released my hands and leaned forward. Slowly, he reached out and held a lock of my hair, twisting it around one finger thoughtfully. I froze, and for a moment, there was nothing going on in the world except him touching my hair. He let my hair go, looking a little surprised—andembarrassed—at what he'd done."Don't cut it," he said gruffly.Somehow, I remembered how to talk again. "But no one'll see my tattoos if I don't.”He moved toward the doorway, a small smile playing over his lips. "Wear it up.”

“I like your hair down." He twisted his fingers through the curls.My eyes drifted shut as I relaxed next to him. "It's a mess. I need to get a haircut."Hayden's fingers stilled. "No. You shouldn't cut your hair. It's beautiful."I would never cut my hair. Ever.”