Heart of the Moors

Chapter 27

That night, lying by the fire and wrapped in her waxed cloak, Aurora listened to the crackle of the kindling and turned on the hard ground. With her godmother missing and Phillip implicated in her disappearance, it seemed more impossible than ever that she would sleep. But she had been awake for far too long, and her body knew it. Her eyes drooped closed.

Aurora dreamed she was wandering through the woods. Dawn was turning the horizon gold, and a light frost covered the green plants.

On she walked, her steps crunching frozen leaves. She came to the place where Diaval had stopped the night before. But now the area was covered in ravens.

Closer she crept. The stillness of the forest made her try to be quiet, too.

Dozens and dozens of ravens cawed at her approach. And beneath their shining black feathers, she saw a pale hand sticking out of the freshly turned earth.

Aurora rushed forward. “Godmother!” she cried.

The ravens took to wing at once, in a great rush. Aurora fell onto her hands and knees. A body had been shallowly buried in the soil. Frantically, she brushed dirt away from it.

But it wasn’t her godmother she found.

Prince Phillip lay stiffly, not sprawling as one does in natural rest. His face was turned upward and cold to the touch. His skin was the bluish white of skimmed milk, especially around his eyes and mouth. His chestnut curls still shone, even with dirt in them. Sunlight caught in his lashes, turning them to gold. Yet he remained as still as the grave.

“Wake up,” she said in a whisper. And then, in a shout: “Wake up!”

At her shout, the ravens began to caw from the trees above.

“Be silent,” she yelled at them.

And she knew that this was no enchanted sleep. This was death.

She leaned down. Some of her hair fell over his cheek and throat. Were he alive, it might have tickled him.

Taking a quick breath, she brushed her mouth against his cold, soft lips.

Then, sitting up, she prepared herself to take one last look at him. But when she gazed down, he no longer had the same appearance as before. His lips were no longer bluish, but the pink of the inside of a shell. And as she watched, his skin took on a flush of warmth.

Then, impossibly, Phillip’s eyes opened, and he sucked in an unsteady breath.

“Aurora,” he said, grabbing her shoulder hard enough that it hurt, “run. He’s right behind you. Run!”