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GREY
Halfway through the night, Grey had jolted awake to a shrill, high-pitched cry somewhere beyond the city wall. His heart pumped in his chest as he scrambled to sit up in bed and claw at the thin blanket covering the window soaked in moonlight. City guards patrolled the grated catwalk just inside the wall and pointed into the depths of the woods.
Shimmering reds, yellows, oranges, and violets popped in and out in pairs like glowing gems. Streaks of light appeared and disappeared in zigzags through the brush until the wall obscured the view, the fae creatures prowling closer to the boundary.
The guards slung their rifles from their backs and ripped pistols from their holsters. Growls and screams from the predators rippled through the air, making Grey shiver as the crack of gunfire clashed against it.
He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night after that.
The whimpers of wounded fae and guards’ complaints kept him from drifting. His fingers curled into the blankets like they had so many years ago when he’d sat in the grass of a clearing and marveled at the flowers blooming in midday to recharge their nightly glow. The memory of his mother kneeling down beside him still remained seared into his mind, even if her face was hazy now.
This is what the fair folk have always sought to protect, so it’s vital to remember to respect them for preserving these wonders.
He could practically feel her ruffling his hair before taking his hand and leading him to a quiet, shaded spot to enjoy a small picnic of tea and biscuits.
His cheek sank further into his pillow as the hours waned, pulling him into the first gasp of morning light. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tugged on his boots before heading to the washroom to clean up. Grey’s mouth watered at the scent of freshly-cooked bacon and bread wafting through the floorboards, beckoning him down the stairs and into a kitchen where Hyde lingered at the island with a coffee mug and watched a woman with curly, pinned-back hair maneuver through her work space.
“Did you talk to the city guards this morning?” Hyde asked her with his mug hovering near his lips.
“Yes,” she replied, a sigh lacing that breath of a word before turning around. Two plates of warm, buttered bread, fried eggs, and crisp bacon scraped against the table after her eyes snapped to Grey, who still lingered in the kitchen doorway. A warm smile took over the flicker of surprise on her face, and Hyde shifted in his seat to follow her gaze.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he said, smirking and patting the countertop next to him. “Grey, this is Marielle. Marielle, Grey.”
Grey gave a timid wave and scurried up to his spot, where she pushed one of the plates in front of him. When he opened his mouth to object and nudge it back toward her, she shook her head and turned to pull down another plate.
“So, what brings you out this way, Grey?” she asked through the clinks of silverware.
“Calling,” he said, barely above a whisper before biting into the still-steaming hunk of bread—just the comfort he needed after the cold welcome of yesterday.
Marielle raised a brow as she slid her plate in front of theirs and started for the water pitcher. “I would say that’s rather exciting if it weren’t for the fair folk getting so aggressive lately. The city guard had to fend off a small pack of faerie beasts last night. They didn’t really detail the damage, but it didn’t sound particularly reassuring…”
The splash of water filling each glass cut through the yelps echoing through Grey’s mind from earlier that morning. The fork’s handle dug into his hand.
“If you feel the urge to leave,” she said, turning and setting a cup down by his plate, “do let us know, all right? I’d hate for you to go wandering out into the night and get ripped apart by those things.”
Hyde snorted. “You don’t honestly think this is going to continue, do you? It’s probably a weird season change or moon phase?—”
“It’s been over a month.” Marielle shook her head with a grimace. “Not to mention I’ve heard talk about quarantining hemomancers because they think a blood moon is coming and we’ll wipe out the town.” She sighed into her glass, sending ripples through the water. “It always gets worse before it gets better.”
Hyde waved his fork around. “You’re right, you’re right. Enough doom and gloom for now. Why do you think you’re here, Grey? Hm?” That smirk reappeared, and Marielle rolled her eyes.
Grey stiffened the second all attention shifted back to him.
“You don’t have to answ—” she started, Hyde clicking his tongue at her.
“Um…” Grey began, pushing egg around his plate. “I’m not really all that sure.”
“What are your strong suits?” Hyde pressed. “Marielle, here is an excellent chef, so her calling brought her to set up a small little restaurant here. And I’m here because I have a knack for storytelling. Even some of the other districts have me entertaining on the weekends.” A glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes as he nursed his coffee again. “So? What do you tend to gravitate toward?”
Grey’s chewing slowed as he locked onto the dirt under his fingernails—the graphite nearly uncleanable from nights upon nights of sketching. He swallowed. “Drawing.”
“Oh ho? An artist?” Hyde grinned and nudged him with an elbow, nearly knocking the glass from Grey’s hand. “You’ll have to show us. Imagine all the commissions you could do around here. I could see some of these people paying handsomely for something like that.”
The water shook as Grey forced out a nervous chuckle. “I had some people commission me back home, but I’m not so sure anyone would—I mean, there are a lot more people here, and they probably have a lot more talent?—”
“Please,” Hyde drawled. “How about a demonstration before lunch so Marielle and I can be the judge of that?” His razor-sharp grin told him he couldn’t argue, so he nodded instead.
* * *
