Grey Folk

Chapter 7

Dry leaves trickled across the sun-warmed stone floor of Queen Titania's bedroom, and the breeze brought with it a whisper; the whisper of a secret Her Majesty was not yet intended to discover.

She stirred, her long lashes lifting from her dusky cheeks to reveal luminous eyes, black and full of stars. Rolling to her back in one languid movement, she flexed her body against the silk-soft sheets, lifting both hands up to brush the vines curling around the headboard above her.

"Chevalier," she whispered, and her companion lurched upright, his red hair a curled mass that tumbled down to tangle in the sheets. Picking up a single lock of that hair, she pressed it between her thumb and forefinger. So soft. So smooth. "I would like to keep some of this, when you leave."

Any other lover would have smiled, cut off every hair on his head and given it to her on a golden platter. Not Chevalier. No, he merely gave her a liquid smile, his glassy eyes sending her own reflection back at her, and shrugged one slender shoulder. "No offense, my queen, but I do not trust what you would do with it. I wouldn't like to see a lot of little Chevaliers running around the Faewild unattended, you know. We're quite a troublesome bunch."

"But think how interesting it would be, to see what the hair from such a being produces," Titania whispered. Her eyes danced with the imagination of a creator.

"You will not find any of us willing to take the chance," Chevalier said, beginning to gather the long ribbons of his hair together and bundle them at the nape of his neck.

"If you Eladrin would give up your caution and embrace the chaos, the Faewild would be much more fun." Queen Titania swept her own iridescent hair back from her face. She wore it short, today, trimmed into soft wisps across her forehead and temples.

"I disagree. If you always got your way, Your Majesty, then it wouldn't be very fun at all." Chevalier winked - the sheer impudence of the fae - and flung the crumpled sheets away from them.

Titania watched the same breeze that danced in her ears chase the sheets up, sending them billowing through the open roof of the queen's bedroom, standing against the soft dusk sky like pretty, fluffy clouds.

On a whim, she exerted but a small droplet from her oceans of magic to dissipate the sheets into mist, making their likeness to vapor a reality. They floated up higher and higher, turning the clear evening to cloudy with a chance of rain.

"Very pretty, my queen, but think of all the picnics you'll ruin." Chevalier tapped her nose, then rolled out of bed, reaching down to pick up his green faesilk robes. "And now you need new sheets. Whims only take you so far, you know."

"So it wasn't a whim that made you kidnap one of my greyfolk?" Titania leaned forward, her voice never straying from its customary sweet murmur. "What game are you playing with my pet, Chevalier?"

"Pet? Don't you always say you consider your creations to be your children?"

She should have known he would be too practiced in the games of court to be surprised that she had caught him out. "The greyfolk are not like the rest of my children. They are ugly slaves, with no feelings or true purpose. I put them to use as best I can. What would you have me do? Kill them at birth?"

Chevalier laughed, incredulous, spinning to her in one fluid movement and pausing with both hands on one hip. "I don't know, Titania, set them loose?"

Titania laughed with him, and nearby vines burst into bloom with a shower of crimson petals. "I have tried that once before, Chevalier. When I first unwittingly created one of the sorry things, I set it free to roam, as I do all my creations. It meandered, listless, starving but for the magic of the Faewild coursing through its veins, and it was killed by wild beasts within days. The poor things don't even bother to eat if we don't keep them on a rigid schedule. I ask you again; what would you have me do?"