Page 105 of The Knucker King

Trewoofe squeezed her waist. “About ‘being very fruitful’? Do not tease me on that matter. I do not think I could bear it.”

She frowned. “Why would I not mean it? To be clear, I am not talking about right away. This is all new, and we must be careful and gentle with each other. It will take time, and discussions, but that is something I have always wanted for myself.” Her frown deepened. “Did you not mean it? Or was it just… words to excite us?”

Is this really a conversation you should be having in front of everyone? Bramble piped up, pulling away from Trewoofe’s pats.

“Agreed, it hardly seems appropriate,” Ashling chimed in.

Avice huffed. “You all just saw what we were doing, and they are not exactly listening right now!”

She gestured to the squabbling Knockers. Their Queen had selected an orange and red floral necklace – matching the colours on her painted wooden shoes – and now stood to the side with her Prince Consort while the rest of her flock took their pick.

“Enough!” Trewoofe snapped. “Of course, the words were true, and they were also to excite. Two things can be true at once. Let us leave it there.”

With that, the tiff ended. He suppressed the rumble in his chest at the thought of other salacious words that might bring Avice excitement. Of how he would whisper – in privacy next time – of what he would like to do to her.

He was distracted from his imaginings as she leant more heavily into him. Her head dropped, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Trewoofe clenched his jaw. How much longer was all of this going to take? Avice needed to rest.

Finally, the Knockers finished, and led by their Queen, made their way out of the garden and into the woods beyond.

Next came the Pillywiggins. The Queen – her fidgeting flock behind her – hopped forward with a squawk and bobbed her head in greeting.

Avice, trembling now, pushed herself up from his torso. “Welcome, my Lady.” For the third and final time she swept her arm over the baskets. They were a mess. Knocked over, scattered, and pilfered. “Please take an offering, and consider our bargain done.”

The Queen tapped her claw to her chin as she marched up and down the remaining floral gifts.

Avice swayed, and Trewoofe tightened his grip around her. “I can take you inside,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “Not yet, I must see it done.” She straightened up and nudged him as the Queen moved off with her prize, placing a rumpled white crown on her head. “That is the one,” she hissed.

“What is what one?” he whispered back.

Avice gestured her chin to the next Pillywiggin who stepped forwards. She was tiny and wore a purple cloak.

“She was the one who was marked.” She tapped her chest. “Here, with a leaf shape, like Boarden.”

“Ah.” Trewoofe remembered now as he studied the little daughter. “She is to be the next Pillywiggin Queen.”

“How do you know that?” Avice asked, not tearing her eyes from the diminutive Faerie.

He watched the Princess carefully. She limped and held her wings haphazardly. His anger flared at the thought that some Folk – a clan not under his influence – had deliberately harmed one so young and marked her. Why? As far as he knew, one type of Faerie could not be changed to another.

Avice tugged on his tunic. “Lord?”

“Oh.” He smiled down at her. “Yes?”

She giggled. “How do you know she is the next Queen?”

Trewoofe shrugged. “Sidhe King intuition. I do not know how to explain it, some things I can just sense.”

She yawned before replying. “I understand. I have that too. Some things I just… know.”

He beamed down at her before turning his attention back to the flock. The Princess had selected a floral bracelet he made but wore it as crown instead of on her wrist. The Queen dipped her head at her daughter as she limped over, reaching out to hold her hand. With that, she let out a caw, and the flock descended.

Trewoofe recoiled from the chaos, and Bramble jerked back from his hand. Even Ashling – usually so composed – let out a peal of alarm. Within moments, every single remaining offering had been claimed. He observed the debris: baskets had been tossed everywhere, handles shredded, and petals squashed into the earth.

“Alright,” Avice yawned. “It is done.” She smiled up at him, eyelids drooping. “We did it.”

He nodded, admiring his little witch. The ash had streaked down her cheeks from her sweat, petals and magic dust stuck to her skin, and her shift was streaked with grass stains.