The Bear and the Nightingale (Winternight Trilogy, #1)

by Katherine Arden

The sprite was sitting on a thick limb with catlike nonchalance, steadily combing her long tresses. Her comb was the rusalka’s greatest treasure, for if her hair dried, she would die; but the comb could conjure water anywhere. When she looked closely, Vasya could see the water flowing from the comb’s teeth.

Kind of reminds me of the magical comb from The Grimm Legacy by Polly Shulman

She looked like a wild thing new-caught and just barely groomed into submission.

But I think you should be careful, Batyushka, that God does not speak in the voice of your own wishing. We have never needed saving before.”

I do not understand “damned.” You are. And because you are, you can walk where you will, into peace, oblivion, or pits of fire, but you will always choose.