Heart of the Moors

Chapter 20

Maleficent arrived with her company of faeries as the sun began to dip toward evening. She wore a formidable gown of black velvet and silk, with tattered edges on her wide skirts. Diaval was on her arm, in black velvet and silver. A cuff hung from his ear, swinging back and forth in time with his gait.

Just walking onto the castle grounds gave her a deep sense of unease. The place absolutely stank of iron—so much so that even after Aurora’s efforts at removing it, she couldn’t help noticing the scent with a shudder. It brought back the sense memory of her skin blistering, of her helplessness when bound in its chains. It brought back the pain of her missing wings. It brought back the brutal satisfaction of standing in front of the first human she’d ever loved and finally finding a way to hurt him as badly as he had hurt her. And it brought back her standing over Aurora’s sleeping body and knowing that the person she loved best might never wake.

Maleficent tried to shake off all of that. Aurora had created the festival to unite her kingdoms, and Maleficent was determined to frighten as few humans as possible.

And she had to admit the festival itself was quite charming.

Humans were everywhere, both those dressed in finery and those in homespun. The tables outside the castle were full. There were tureens of soups and elderberry jam–filled pastries in the shapes of angels and goblins, moons and towers, wolves and mermaids. There were cakes dusted with gold flakes and dotted with edible flowers. There were jellies and crèmes in jewel colors, molded into improbably tall and slightly wobbly shapes. There were fruits made of marzipan and rolled in sugar so that they shone in the candlelight.

And there was a riot of flowers everywhere—familiar flowers. Maleficent scowled. They were the work of Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass, she was certain. They adored their own wing colors so much they matched not only their clothing to them, but absolutely everything else. She could even see where they’d been fighting with one another: some daisies became peonies halfway across a single bloom.

A wicked smile turned up the corners of her mouth. It would be a small thing to unify the decorations. She flicked her fingers in the air, sending out sparks of magic.

All around her, the flowers began to change. The petals grew larger and darker until enormous black roses crawled over every surface that had previously been decorated with peonies, daisies, or bluebells.

“Much better,” Maleficent said with satisfaction.

“Oh, yes,” said Diaval. “Not menacing at all.”

Faeries had begun to explore the feast. She saw some wallerbogs tasting the soup and a foxkin nibbling on the bread. One tiny winged butterfly faerie took an enormous bite out of a marzipan plum and spat it out in disgust when he realized it was made of almond paste. A tree woman was causing golden pears to bloom on her arms and offering them to passersby.

The humans appeared nervous, but not entirely ungracious. However, that nervousness turned to outright fear in Maleficent’s presence. People hastened to clear a path at her approach.

Then she heard a familiar voice.

“A witch she was,” he said. “And in a wave of her hand, I was no longer myself. I was a cat! That’s right, the very sort that hunts for mice or sleeps by your hearth. I opened my mouth to protest, to cry out for help, but the only sound that came out was a meowwwwwww.”

Nervous laughter followed. A few small children clapped their hands, clearly delighted at the prospect of becoming cats.

It was the storyteller Maleficent had enchanted. She walked to the edge of his crowd, raising a single eyebrow at him. This time she wore no cloak. He could see her quite clearly.

“And that began m-my adventure,” he stammered, his face paling at the sight of Maleficent. He went on with the tale, obviously rattled. “I ran into the bushes. The witch hunted for me but could not discover my hiding place. Long I waited, tail twitching, trying to get used to a body that moved on all fours and was overwhelmed with smells. Luckily, cats from the neighborhood found me. I fell in with a grizzled old tom who gave me good advice. He showed me how to hunt. Soon I was happy lying in the sun, eating what I caught, drinking from streams. I even found a cat to take to wife, and we were soon expecting our first litter of kittens. My old life seemed far behind me, though I never quite got used to the fleas.

“But then this good lady, Maleficent the faerie, came upon me and turned me back into myself. And here she is, the hero of the hour. My lady, you have my thanks! Truly, this story is a tribute to you.”

Maleficent was impressed and amused by the tale he’d spun out of perhaps a week spent sulking around the Moors in feline form. She bowed to both him and the crowd.

After some wandering across the grass, Diaval had acquired a mug of some foaming beverage that he was effusive in praising, and Maleficent had spotted where the dancing was to take place.

Better-dressed people milled close to a large bonfire, where a band had struck up a tune. As Maleficent approached, she saw that the nobles were even more afraid of her than the villagers had been, shrinking back, ladies in gowns clutching one another’s hands. She tried to smile, but at the sight of her fangs, a woman tripped and fell into the balloon of her own dress. It took two footmen to get her up again.

Diaval had to be turned into a raven for a full five minutes to hide his laughter.

Across the way, Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass buzzed around without causing much alarm, but when a faerie piper offered his services to the musicians, she could tell that they were afraid he would lead the crowd in an enchanted dance.

And so what if he did? Maleficent thought with resentment. It might be a little uncomfortable, but at least it would get everyone on their feet.

Perhaps it would even prove that magic could be employed entertainingly.

As Maleficent considered that, the crowd began to stir. Then it parted as footmen rolled out a carpet. And behind the carpet walked Aurora in a gown of blue, her crown glinting in the torchlight. She looked regal, Maleficent thought. She looked like her mother. She even had her eyes—eyes that met Maleficent’s as she stepped into the dancing area. The girl gave her a quick grin, the impish one she’d had since she was a child.

The musicians, including the faerie piper, took up a pavane.

And Count Alain stepped out to take Aurora’s hand. He was dressed all in black velvet, making the stripe of white in his hair stand out. On his chest, he wore a large iron pin studded with garnets. Maleficent narrowed her eyes, recalling dangling him over the forest floor. She was sorry not to have an excuse to do it again.

Together, they began the stately steps of the dance, looking for all the world as though they were a couple.

How had he managed it? Maleficent turned her gaze to Lord Ortolan suspiciously. And indeed, he did look pleased. But she was surprised to see that behind him, Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass looked equally happy. Flittle was clasping her hands together and whispering to Knotgrass.

Stupid meddling pixies. What do they think they’re doing?

In front of the crowd, Aurora and Count Alain stood side by side with their hands clasped. They bent their knees slightly toward the audience and then toward each other, heads high. Together, they took a few steps, went up on their toes, took a few more steps, and went up on their toes again. Then, parting hands, they each took a turn about the grass; then they came back and clasped hands again, spinning around each other. When Aurora stumbled, Count Alain caught her ably.

Maleficent’s gaze swept the crowd. She spotted Phillip in a tunic of deep blue velvet, leaning against a flower-covered support, his gaze on Aurora unmistakably that of a boy suffering in love.

She crossed the lawn to stand beside him.

“Come to gloat?” he asked her sulkily.

“I may not like you,” she said, “but I am not fool enough to prefer him.”

Phillip gave a hollow laugh. Up close, he seemed a bit haggard. Although he was dressed in his typical princely finery, he didn’t appear to have slept since the last time Maleficent saw him, at the banquet.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you, princeling?”

“I told her,” he said, “and it went just as you told me it would. I was a fool.”

“What excellent news,” Maleficent said. “This party grows better and better.”

“At least one of us can be happy,” he said. “I do not know that I will ever be happy again.”

Maleficent turned to watch the dance with raised brows. As Aurora and Count Alain went through the synchronized hops and steps, she could see that the hushed crowd thought the ridiculous skunk must have Aurora’s favor.

Finally, the music ended and both partners bowed slightly. Then the musicians struck up another piece—a lively galliard. The grass filled with courtly dancers. The townsfolk watched, waiting for their turn at one of the country dances.

Although there were unpartnered ladies in attendance and Prince Phillip ought to have led one of them onto the floor, he did not. Looking lovesick, he departed.

Count Alain took Aurora’s hand, pulling her to him and whispering something in her ear. Even though she wasn’t close, Maleficent noticed the girl’s expression change to alarm. Without a glance at anyone else, Aurora allowed Alain to draw her away from the clearing and back to the palace.

Maleficent liked that even less than the dance.

“Diaval,” she hissed, “we are going to follow Aurora.”

“Are we, mistress? How very different from my usual orders.”

She scowled at him, and he gave her a grin. It was useless trying to intimidate the raven-man these days. He knew her entirely too well.

Together, they moved through the crowd, toward the palace. Sometimes Maleficent thought she saw a flash of the girl’s golden hair or her crown, but it was hard to be sure. Entering the hall from outside, she was surprised to find Prince Phillip already there, a half step ahead of her, and heading for the stairs.

“Looking for someone?” Maleficent asked, raising a single elegant brow.

He flushed. “I saw her leave with the count. She seemed upset. And I don’t trust Alain.”

“I will tell Aurora of your concern for her well-being when I find her,” Maleficent informed him, moving past.

“I’ll tell her myself,” he returned. “I know the castle better than you do. You’re not going to find her without me.”

“I have watched over her since she was a child,” Maleficent reminded him.

“You cursed her!” he snapped.

Maleficent lifted her hand, pointing a finger at him. Her nostrils flared. “And I am about to curse you!”

Prince Phillip took a deep breath. “Let me come with you,” he said quietly. “Please. The last time I saw her, I upset her, and I just want things to be right between us again.”

Maleficent softened. “Very well. Come. But only because I do not want to spend more time in pointless argument.” With those words, she began to climb the stairs, leaving Diaval to follow her, and Prince Phillip to trail behind.

I don’t trust Alain, he’d said. Maleficent didn’t, either, but now she was beginning to have more specific fears. What if the count intended to abduct Aurora?

At the top of the stairs was a single tiny white flower, the kind that had been braided into the girl’s hair. For a moment, Maleficent held it cupped in her palm.

“Count Alain’s rooms are nearby,” Phillip said. “The third door on the left. But I can’t think why she would come here with him.”

Maleficent thought of the spindle Aurora had once pricked her finger on. She thought of all the dangers that could not be anticipated.

She swept down the hall, Prince Phillip and Diaval on her heels.

At the door, she did not bother to check if it was locked but magicked it open in a swirl of golden sparkles. Inside the room were soldiers, ten of them at least, heavily armed. They rushed toward her.

But before she could react, an iron net fell over her from the ceiling. Pain raced through her, along with a terrible helplessness. She screamed in horror, but also with the memory of another iron net—one she knew had been destroyed.

Diaval was pulling on the net, attempting to lift it off her.

She tried to turn even as the iron scorched her skin. It glowed red where it touched her.

“Phillip, run!” Maleficent called to him. He had to get away. He had to find Aurora.

But more men-at-arms were coming up the stairs, blocking his way. She recognized one of them from the hunt. Count Alain’s man.

Phillip’s gaze met hers. She could see in his face that he knew just how much trouble they were in. He grabbed for a sword mounted on the wall. You’re a fool, she thought, but a brave fool.

Reaching her hand through the net, she caught hold of Diaval’s arm. There was only one thing she could think to do, and she hoped she had the magic for it. “Into a raven,” she said with a swirl of glittering gold from her fingers. “Watch over her. Warn her!”

A moment later, Diaval was gone and in his place was a black bird, his feathers gleaming. Maleficent felt queasy with exhaustion, but she’d managed it. She’d changed him. Diaval the raven cawed and flew from the landing, past soldiers who tried to grab or swung at him.

In horror, Maleficent watched as one of the blades caught the edge of his body and knocked him from the air.

Rough hands grabbed hold of his flapping wings.

A clang of metal brought her thoughts back to where she stood. Three soldiers were trading blows with Prince Phillip. Back and forth they sallied along the narrow hall. She tried to struggle free of the net with renewed fear.

But then someone clasped her from behind and brought a rag to her face. There was a horrible sweet scent on it, the same smell that had wafted off the drink Stefan gave her on the single worst night of her life. She felt lightheaded with panic. She threw her head back, knocking her horns against the soldier behind her. They both crashed to the floor.

She crawled away from him, dragging the net with her. More arms grabbed her from behind, pushing her to the ground. The heady smell of poison intensified, and along with it came a vast dizziness.

She felt herself slipping. She looked up at Phillip just in time to see a soldier’s blade pierce his side.