Heart of the Moors

Chapter 7

Still fuming, Aurora urged her horse ahead of Lord Ortolan.

“Was he prosing on?” Lady Fiora asked, falling back to ride alongside Aurora. She glanced over her shoulder at the advisor. “The old fossil. I suppose he hopes to bore you into letting him get control of your treasury.”

“He seems more worried Prince Phillip will steal my heart,” Aurora confided with a laugh.

Lady Fiora laughed, too. “No chance of that. He’s returning home to Ulstead.”

Aurora wondered if her horse had taken a wrong step, because she experienced the curious sensation of her stomach dropping. “That’s not possible. He would have said something.”

Her companion lowered her voice to a whisper. “My maid overheard him talking with a messenger from his kingdom just today. Apparently, he is to depart within the week.”

Aurora took a deep breath, drinking in the familiar scents of the forest. The sun dappled the ground, filtering through the leaves and making shifting patterns along the forest floor. It ought to have made her feel better, but all she could think about was Phillip’s leaving.

Somehow she’d imagined things would go on exactly the way they were.

But of course, that was impossible. His parents must have missed him. And he had duties back home, perhaps even including an obligation to a marriage, as Lord Ortolan suggested—just not one to her.

“Don’t you love it out here?” she forced herself to say, her voice brittle.

Lady Fiora looked around. “I don’t mind being in the forest with a large party, but I worry over sounds. There could be bears. Or adders. Or faeries.”

Aurora considered telling Lady Fiora that bears and snakes would run the other way from all this human noise, but she wasn’t sure Lady Fiora would find that at all reassuring.

“The faeries won’t hurt you,” Aurora attempted.

Lady Fiora gave Aurora a strange look but didn’t contradict her. One didn’t contradict a queen.

“And there are lots of wonderful things in the woods,” Aurora went on, steering her horse toward a wild blackberry patch. She leaned down and plucked a few ripe berries, then held them out to Lady Fiora, who she knew had a sweet tooth. “See?”

Lady Fiora’s delicate nose wrinkled. “Uncooked fruit? That’s sure to make you ill.”

Count Alain rode up beside them, catching sight of the bounty in Aurora’s hand.

“How enterprising,” he said. “Perhaps we can bring those to the kitchen. I am sure the cook would be charmed.”

The palace cook sent up no fruit or vegetable that wasn’t thoroughly stewed or braised or baked into a pie. Aurora had previously supposed that was to show off the skills of the kitchen, not that the nobles believed that eating fruits and vegetables raw would do them harm. Aurora had spent her childhood devouring raw berries, often going home with her hands and mouth stained by them, and no harm had come to her.

She popped the blackberries into her mouth, to the astonishment of her companions.

“Someday soon I hope to convince you to visit my family estates,” Count Alain said, recovering from the shock. “I can see that you have a great appreciation for the outdoors, and my own little corner of Perceforest is quite rustic.”

“You must miss being home,” Aurora said to Count Alain, but it was of Phillip she was really thinking.

“And yet it is hard for me to tear myself from your side,” he said with a smile. “The only solution is for us to go together. There are rivers choked with fish. Woods ripe with game. And, of course, iron mines—the richest in all Perceforest.”

Aurora repressed a shudder. It wasn’t Count Alain’s fault that his part of the kingdom produced iron, which was poisonous to faeries. Iron was useful in other ways. Pots and wagons and barrels all had iron.

“Those mines are the source of my family’s wealth. It has allowed us to construct an estate that I hope will meet with your approval. We have imported orange trees from the south and keep them warm by growing them indoors.”

Before Count Alain could go into more detail about the splendors of his estate, Prince Phillip’s horse trotted up alongside Aurora’s steed.

“I hate to interrupt,” Phillip said, “but I think I may have found a vantage point. We’re very close to the place where you were crowned, in the Moors, aren’t we?”

She remembered that day, remembered her aunties bringing her the crown and Maleficent declaring her the queen who would unite the two kingdoms. She had taken the bark-covered hand of one of the tree warrior sentinels when she’d noticed Phillip was among the faeries, with his gaze on her and a soft smile on his face. Her heart had beat so hard that she’d felt something a little like panic.

That was before she knew about the kiss.

He’s not the one for you, Thistlewit had said later that night. If he couldn’t wake you, then he’s not your true love. Such a pretty boy as that, he probably loves himself a little too well to have room to love anyone else.

At first it had stung to hear that, but later it was a relief. After all, if Phillip didn’t love her, then it was okay to tell him embarrassing things. It was okay to be honest. It was okay to be totally herself.

“Yes,” Aurora said. “Very close.”

“You have been in the Moors before, Prince Phillip?” Lady Fiora asked. “You must be very courageous.”

That earned her a swift glare from her brother.

“Not at all,” Phillip said. “It’s an extraordinary place. There are plants growing there that I’ve never seen before, roses in colors I don’t have the words to name. And everything is alive. Even the rocks move. All the leaves in a tree might take flight and only then would you realize you were in the middle of a swarm of faeries.”

Aurora had never heard a human describe the Moors so beautifully.

Lady Fiora was staring at Prince Phillip as though she thought him even braver than before. “I would have fainted if I saw half those things. But I trust you would have caught me.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. Prince Phillip looked flummoxed by her flirtation. “I suppose I would have tried.”

“If we’re so close and you like them so well, perhaps you should explore the Moors again now,” Count Alain said testily. “That is, if Aurora will let you.”

Phillip laughed. It was a kind laugh—kind enough to draw the sting from Count Alain’s words. “Well, I was wondering if we could see into them from up there. Since Aurora brought us all here to get a look.” He pointed up the hill. There seemed to be a ledge of stone above them, but it meant riding through an area that was both off the path and thick with fir trees.

Aurora steered her horse up the hill with a mischievous grin. “I believe we can. Let’s scout ahead.” Phillip followed her.

“Where are you going?” Lady Fiora called after them.

“To see the Faerie Land!” Prince Phillip called back.

Lady Fiora hesitated, looking at her brother. Count Alain glowered.

Aurora saw Lord Ortolan sitting astride his horse and, despite herself, remembered his warning: He is here to win your land for Ulstead.

But he wasn’t. Phillip was going home. And he hadn’t even told her.

He would go back to his own country and eventually marry a noblewoman there. And while they would always be friends, his life would probably grow busier. He would have less time to spare. She would be less and less a part of his life. The more she thought, the more inevitable it seemed, and the more heartsick she grew.

A little way up the hill, Phillip stopped his horse.

Where the Moors began, the landscape changed. Crystal pools of bright blue water washed around tall pillars of stone, and small rocky islets dotted lakes. The trees were wrapped in bright vines of vibrant green. And Aurora could see clouds of what appeared to be butterflies blow across the sky. Wallerbogs scuttled along the banks. Mushroom faeries peeped out at them from behind rocks while water faeries leaped from the depths, their glowing blue bodies shining in the sunlight.

Yes, this would be a perfect spot to bring her court.

“I wish we could leave the other riders and go swimming,” Prince Phillip remarked.

Aurora laughed. “Lord Ortolan’s heart would stop.”

“And we know Lady Fiora would faint,” he returned, “especially when I dunked you under a lily pad.”

Aurora shoved his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare dunk me!”

“You’re free to consider it an act of war from a neighboring kingdom,” he said.

She opened her mouth to give some reply when the words struck her. A neighboring kingdom. His kingdom.

“Phillip,” she began, “is it true—”

But before she could ask, shouts came from the men-at-arms. Phillip and Aurora shared a glance, and then both started back down the hill.

Halfway there, she spotted a raven wheeling through the air. A very familiar raven.

What was Diaval doing?

When she got to the bottom of the hill, she found her men-at-arms surrounding a large bush. Their weapons were drawn.

She thought of the missing boy, Simon. Could he have just gotten lost in the woods?

“Wait!” she cried, jumping down from her horse’s back. “Whatever you have trapped there, don’t hurt it.”

Phillip was beside her in an instant, his sword drawn.

“It’s no beast or faerie, Your Majesty,” said one of the men-at-arms with a smirk.

Another stuck a pole arm into the bush. A howl went up—a very human howl.

“Stop!” Aurora said. “That’s cruel.”

The soldiers looked rebellious, apparently unsure whether to obey. After a moment, they drew back from their quarry.

A man crawled out of the bushes, carrying a brace of rabbits close to his chest. He had a scraggly beard, and his ragged clothing hung on him. He looked around at the riding party, staring openmouthed at Aurora, then took off running.

Three soldiers chased him down, one tackling him into the dirt. Then the other two grabbed the man by his arms and forced him up to his knees.

“A poacher,” said Lord Ortolan with disgust. “Hunting on the queen’s lands, no less.”

Lady Fiora was huddled with a few of the other young women, their horses drawn into a knot. They looked a little frightened, and Aurora began to realize that they expected her to punish the man on the spot.

“Your Majesty,” he said, clutching the rabbits in his hands anxiously, “please. My family is hungry. The yield on our farm was poor this year and my wife is very sick.”

A man-at-arms hit him in the side with his pole arm. “Silence.”

Another pulled the rabbits from his hands.

The farmer looked down and spoke no more. He was visibly trembling.

“What punishment does he expect?” Aurora asked Prince Phillip. For the man to be so afraid, it must be very bad indeed.

Lord Ortolan pushed his way to the front, clearly glad to be of use. He spoke before Phillip could. “Blinding would be considered merciful.”

Aurora was astonished.

“Have him sewn into the skin of a deer and we will set our dogs on him,” said one of the men-at-arms. “That’s what your grandfather King Henry would have done.” A few of the others laughed.

The man began to weep and beg incoherently.

Were these the same humans who thought the faeries of the Moors were monsters? Did they not see how horrible it was to have so much and not be willing to give anything to someone in need?

Aurora bent down near the farmer. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Hammond, Your Majesty,” he managed to get out through his tears. “Oh, please…”

She hated the idea of hunting, but Hammond was no more cruel than any fox or owl or other animal that killed to feed its young—and she could no more justify punishing him than one of them. He was only trying to survive. Nobles killed far more than they could eat and had to justify nothing.

“You may take rabbits from my woods so long as your family needs food, Hammond,” she said.

She turned to the soldiers and drew herself up. This time when she spoke, she didn’t hide her anger or her horror at their treatment of the man. “Give him back the rabbits he caught and let him go.”

No soldier hesitated to obey her.

“Surely there must be some punishment,” Lord Ortolan sputtered, “or peasants will take advantage of you. Your woods will be picked clean.”

Aurora wanted to contradict him, but it was probably true that no rules around hunting on royal land would result in the forest being emptied, and not necessarily by those in need. “I hereby decree that from now forward, any citizen of Perceforest may take one single rabbit from the queen’s woods without punishment. Furthermore, anyone who is hungry may come to the palace and be given a ration of barley for every member of their family.”

“The royal treasury cannot possibly sustain that,” Lord Ortolan said in a quelling manner.

“If the people are fed, they won’t have to steal. And they can pay their taxes.” If the treasury could afford to pay for all the confections that were set before the nobles, it could afford grain for families in difficulty, Aurora thought. “Furthermore, I proclaim that no one, under any circumstances, shall blind another person or sew them into a deerskin and set dogs on them. Is that understood?”

Hammond bowed over and over again. “Bless you, Your Majesty. You are kindness itself.” Then, stumbling over his own feet, with his rabbits once more clutched tight against his chest, he started back toward the village.

The entire hunting party was silent. Aurora was sure they thought she’d made a terrible mistake, but she regretted none of it.

Then Lady Fiora shrieked.