Shades of Grey

ESTHEN— MARCH 1843

“Excellent!” exclaimed Lord Remacus.

He shook my hand vigorously and I shot Forma a cursory glance of suspicion. There was something about Remacus’ fervid grandiloquence that I trusted. She nodded curtly in wide-eyed agreement.

“Now, if you will follow Anorak, to your room, you may retire if you wish but I must ask you to join us for the Independence Day Ball this evening! It should be a marvellous occasion.”

I frowned again at his over-zealousness. It felt as though he was trying to keep something hidden from me, keep me distracted...

“Is it wise to conduct a ball in the absence of your queen?” I questioned.

“We thought it best not to alarm the public by cancelling it. It is a splendid and revered holiday. We hold a ball for visiting nobles in the courtyard of the palace after a day of parades and general merriment for the citizenry. The people have always loved the grand floats and fabulous music! I hope to see you there!”

The largest dinosaur on the guard line stepped forward and grunted, waiting for me to follow him. I stole another look at Lord Remacus as we left the room with the ennui of a guardsman, Anorak.

“He seems…I don’t know, untrustworthy,” Forma said from my shoulder in the form of a blue jay.

“Yes, he doesn’t seem bothered by the state of the country at all,” I agreed. “I don’t like him.”

“What do you think he wants?” she asked.

“To keep the throne: as long as the queen is gone, he has control of the entire country. What else could he want?”

After several minutes of telepathically exchanging theories with Forma, Anorak stopped at the end of a long silver hallway and turned to a white door on the right.

“This will be your room for the night. You may depart in the morning for Cronamia,” he said coldly, promptly leaving us. Forma and I exchanged perplexed glances at his icy attitude and shrugged as we entered our room.

The dark red walls had triumvirate strips of black running vertically across the length of the room interspersed with pleasant scenic paintings. A large bay window overlooking the entire city sat between two monstrous four-poster beds on the opposite wall, highlighting the dizzying city as it stretched up the sides of the neighboring mountains.

“Forma, I think I could get quite used to this,” I remarked euphorically, leaping onto one of the beds.

She flew over to the other bed and enlarged herself, caressing the soft sheets in glee.

“Me too!”

That evening, I stood on a chair, playing with the skirt of the ball gown Forma had made in a little over three hours. I felt horribly exposed seeing my uniform folded on a nearby chair next to my Flamesword. This left me carrying only my two dirks in the bodice of my lavender dress for safety. I had a nagging feeling that I would need more than just dirks tonight and it bothered me not to have all of my weapons at the ready.

“Grey, will you stop moving?” Forma snapped as she trimmed the hemline of the dress.

“I’m sorry,” I protested. “I just feel so naked without my Flamesword!”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll really be going to this ball naked!” she threatened. “But, then again I wouldn’t let that happen because I have worked too hard on this dress!”

She finished tying up a thread and stood back, surveying her work.

“There we go, that should do it. You can look now!”

I looked at myself in the mirror and my mouth literally dropped. Forma had forced me to remove my mask without telling me why and I now saw that she had painted on it all manner of intricate and brightly coloured designs. The effect was amazing: the elaborately adorned black mask blended seamlessly into my long hair which Forma had curled and piled on top of my head, securing it with a lone black ribbon. The dress had a corset style bodice that flowed into a long velvet skirt with a layer of sheer gold crosshatching overlaying light purple satin and a hemline etched with intricate gray stitching, reflecting the gray in my eyes.

“Forma, you’ve really outdone yourself. I never could have accomplished this on my own!” I exclaimed in elation.

“That’s why I’m here: to dress you for important occasions,” she grinned in sarcastic modesty, admiring her gilding skills.

“What are you going to wear?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, stepping dramatically over to the middle of the room, as though she had a great surprise hidden. “Not to put a damper on your seasonal beauty, but I have a look in mind that I would particularly like to test tonight.”

I folded my arms and grinned in anticipation as she changed so quickly that a swirling cloud of white mist enfolded her, forcing me to turn away in order to protect my eyes. I wanted to kick her for using such blinding theatrics. When she finished, though, I was speechless.

She stood at a solid five foot, eight inches tall (quite a leap from her normal five foot five inch frame.) Her hair that normally fell to her collar bone had grown to her waist and was done up in a style much like that of ancient Roman woman, complete with a gold headband and curled braids. Her eyes were painted like the Egyptian cat-eye and her dress was made of ethereal white satin.

“I think you have every ancient fashion trend covered,” I said, examining her stunning appearance. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you! I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion!” she laughed. “Now to see how many men I can get to ask me for a dance... I believe the record stands at fifteen?” she said, referring to a game we had played at the Graduation Ball almost a year ago when Forma and I entered our final year at school. It started when someone asked me to dance but not Forma, and then someone asked Forma to dance but not me. It became a foolish competition and I couldn’t believe she was even bringing it up.

“I can’t believe you remember! I’ve forgotten how many I had!”

“Seven.”

I stared at Forma, who looked toward the door and then playfully back at me.

“You’d better get a move on or all the good-looking men will be taken!” she taunted, walking calmly towards the door. I let her walk for five seconds before I chased her down the hall, trying to grab her and force her to shrink to her normal size. However, Maislings have one unfair advantage over their Hunters.

Wings.