“Pixies,” she chastised, “you need to wait your turn like everybody else.”
“This can’t wait, Your Grace,” Knotgrass said, shaking her head. She brushed her hands over her simple red dress. “We know you’ll want to see this!”
Flittle nodded. “We could hardly believe our luck,” she said.
Holding out her hand, Knotgrass revealed a tiny spiked ball.
Aurora sat up. “Is that—”
Before she could finish, the “ball” transformed into a hedgehog faerie.
“Pinto!” Aurora said, clapping her hands together happily at the sight of her sweet and wonderful friend. The little hedgehog faerie often disappeared for weeks at a time, and it warmed Aurora’s heart to see her now. Perhaps the day was taking a turn for the better.
“She has come bearing gifts,” Flittle explained. “The first sap from the warming trees.”
“It’s for the big day!” Thistlewit blurted out.
Aurora cocked her head. “What big day?” she asked. She saw Flittle give the little blond pixie a hard nudge with her elbow.
Just then, Pinto leapt onto the arm of the throne and raced toward the top. Reaching out, the hedgehog faerie grabbed the delicate crown off Aurora’s head, and then, as Aurora let out a shout of protest, Pinto jumped into the crown and ran. It spun like a hamster wheel across the ground.
“Pinto!” Aurora said, leaping to her feet and giving chase as the faerie darted away. “I’m not in the mood for that!” Just when she thought the day couldn’t get more exhausting…
Ignoring Aurora, Pinto kept going. She ran out of the throne room, down the halls, out of the castle, and into the Moors beyond. Aurora followed, her hands clenched in tight fists as she muttered under her breath. Usually, she liked to walk slowly through her kingdom, taking in the lush beauty and saying hello to the various faeries she passed. But not that day. She ignored their greetings and didn’t even notice how bright the sun was shining or that the sky was a brilliant blue. Instead, she kept her eyes glued on Pinto.
Reaching the edge of a small lake, Pinto hesitated. It was just long enough for Aurora to reach her. Leaning down, she grabbed for Pinto—and her crown. “Got you!” she started to say. But as she spoke, her foot slipped on the muddy ground and she fell forward, landing in the water with a splash.
“What has gotten into all of you?” Aurora yelled, pushing herself to her feet. She roughly brushed off the mud and water that covered the front of her dress. Her feet were drenched in muck. As she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, she felt a line of dirt follow her finger. As Aurora looked at the three pixies, her eyes narrowed. She usually enjoyed a fun game of tag or hide-and-seek in the Moors. But not that day.
“Well, since you asked…” Thistlewit began. But before she could finish, Knotgrass slammed her into the mud, smooshing her face down and turning her green dress brown.
Aurora gasped. The pixies were known for picking on each other. She couldn’t count the times she had woken up to their squabbling when they had lived in their small forest cottage. But this? It was downright ridiculous.
“There she goes, Your Majesty!” Flittle exclaimed.
Aurora turned and saw Pinto. The faerie had grabbed hold of the crown again and was running it toward a large weeping willow. Aurora followed.
Pulling back the long branches that fell to the ground, Aurora stepped inside. Behind her, the branches dropped, and Aurora suddenly found herself in silence. The soft green leaves muffled the noise from outside and enclosed her in a canopy with the sunlight dappling through. The space was warm and inviting.
“Pinto!” Aurora called, her voice sounding loud in the silence. “Come out here now.”
When no hedgehog faerie appeared, Aurora moved farther into the natural room. In the center, on a rock near the trunk of the willow, she saw her crown. Aurora picked it up and held it in her hand. So much fuss for a thing that was merely a symbol. She hadn’t even really wanted a crown when Maleficent first made her queen of the Moors. But she had given in when presented with the beautiful headpiece made of the branches of her kingdom. Staring at the royal symbol, Aurora realized that so much of her life was about compromise, ruling, and helping her subjects. In the silence beneath the willow tree, she noted that it had been days since she had been truly alone.
Just then, she heard a soft rustling. Aurora turned, expecting to see Pinto. But to her surprise, she found herself looking at Phillip. Even now, five years after they had met, he made her feel weak in the knees and undeniably, indescribably happy. Usually.
“Phillip!” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Although I wish I weren’t in such a state, she added silently, keenly aware of her mud-covered clothing.
The prince moved closer. A lock of his brown hair fell over his eyes, and Aurora resisted the urge to reach out and brush it back. She was always telling him teasingly that for a prince, he was remarkably relaxed about his grooming. But secretly she loved the touch of wildness about him. “And I you,” he said, his voice sounding oddly shaky. “Of course. Since I’m the one who came here. To see you.”
Aurora smiled but her eyes continued to roam the area, searching for Pinto. True, seeing Phillip was a pleasant surprise, but with the Moors turned to madness and a castle full of complainants, she didn’t have the time to spend with him or to wonder why he was acting strange. She had work to do. The peace she had promised moments earlier could only be made with action—and she could not bring action if she was searching all over for a wayward hedgehog faerie.
Still scanning the ground for Pinto, Aurora decided to do both at once. “I wanted to ask you something. Do you think there could be a union? Between Ulstead and the Moors?”
“A union,” Phillip repeated, his voice catching in his throat. “Do I—”
Aurora cut him off. “Yes. I’ve been imagining a bridge. To connect the two lands.”
“Oh, a bridge,” Phillip said, once again repeating her words. “Yes, a bridge is a wonderful idea.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad,” she said as she finally turned her full attention to the prince. Then her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head. She had been so caught up in her own drama that she had failed to really look at him when he had appeared. But there was something about Phillip’s presence—and his outfit—that gave her pause. “Wait,” she finally said, “that’s your formal coat.”
As her heart began to beat faster, she looked around. The willow tree. The warm, romantic canopy. The pixies’ odd behavior and Pinto’s race through the woods. Phillip in his formal coat…He was going to propose!
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep in the squeal she wanted to let out. “You’re in on all of this, aren’t you?” she said, her voice trembling. She wiped at her dress, wishing she hadn’t taken the tumble into the water.
“If you’re busy, I could always…” Phillip started, his voice teasing.
“No!” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Not busy at all.”
“Because I’d hate to take up your precious time….”
Aurora wanted to hit herself upside the head. Why had she gone on and on about her stupid day? “All ears,” she said, smiling encouragingly. “What did you want to talk about?”
Phillip stepped closer. The smile on his face faded and he grew serious, his eyes full of emotion. The world seemed to slow as he stopped in front of her. “Five years ago, I thought I lost you forever,” he said. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. Both of them remembered when she had nearly died and what they had almost lost. Opening her palm, he gently ran a fingertip up her finger, stopping at the dark red scar that would forever be a reminder of when she had pricked her finger on the magic spindle. When he looked up, Phillip met Aurora’s gaze. “I’ve decided to reclaim this day for us. I have loved you since the moment I met you….”
If she had had any doubt that this was a proposal, it vanished. Aurora’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered.
Phillip laughed lightly, bringing levity to the serious moment. “I haven’t even got to the good part yet.”
“I think it’s pretty good,” Aurora said softly.
Phillip reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small box. “There is no magic, and no curse, that can ever keep me away from you, Aurora.” He paused, and then, his eyes filling with light and love, he teased, “Are you sure this is a good time? I could probably…” Aurora shook her head, and Phillip kneeled down. “Will you marry me?”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Aurora let out a loud “Yes!”
“Yes?” Phillip asked, though her answer had been perfectly clear.
Tears of joy falling down her cheeks, Aurora nodded. “Just stand up and kiss me,” she said.
Phillip didn’t need to be told twice. Rising to his feet, he pulled Aurora to him, and as his lips closed over hers, the willow tree exploded into a riot of brilliant colors. Flower faeries, having waited patiently for Aurora’s response, flew into the air in celebration. Aurora didn’t even notice, lost in the kiss—and in the love she felt for Phillip. She hadn’t known, until the moment he asked, how very deep and true that love was. They had been through so much together. And now they had the rest of their lives for many more adventures.
Hearing sniffles, Aurora finally pulled free of the kiss. Looking toward the sound, she laughed as she saw the three pixies hovering in the air. Knotgrass’s cheeks were stained with tears of joy as she clasped her hands. “We’re having a wedding!” she cried.
Beside Aurora, Phillip nodded. But then his expression turned serious. “Of course, we have to tell our parents.”
Suddenly, the warm and fuzzy feeling that had been flooding Aurora’s body dimmed. She imagined the look on Maleficent’s face and shivered. “Do we?” she asked. As if on cue, there was a loud caw. Looking up, she saw a large black raven take flight from a nearby branch. Diaval. The bird was no doubt flying to tell Maleficent the news. He had always been the Dark Fey’s eyes and ears.
Even so, Aurora knew she would have to tell Maleficent the news herself—eventually. While it was tempting to hide in the canopy of the willow tree forever, she took Phillip’s hand in hers, and they headed back to her castle. She would use their walk to prepare herself for what Maleficent might say. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be “congratulations.”
MALEFICENT STOOD ATOP THE HIGH CRAG. THE SHEER, FOREBODING ROCK MONOLITH WAS THE HIGHEST POINT IN THE MOORS. FROM IT, MALEFICENT COULD LOOK OUT OVER THE ENTIRE KINGDOM. Although she was welcome in Aurora’s castle, she was more comfortable here. On the crag, she was alone and free from the incessant chatter of the other faeries.
As the only one of her kind, Maleficent had never had the camaraderie that came with growing up among others like oneself. She did not understand the faeries’ need to constantly check in with one another or tell each other about their days. She preferred her solitude. And if she was being honest, she knew that most of the faerie folk were fine with that. She had earned her reputation as a strong and fierce Dark Fey the hard way—through war and violence. Even now, years after peace had come to the Moors, that reputation hung over her. Her presence still often made the smaller, more lighthearted faeries nervous.
In truth, the only one she had not grown tired of was Aurora. The girl, who was more daughter than friend, never ceased to amaze Maleficent. She was never bored with or weary of her. When she was around Aurora, she never felt uncomfortable or self-conscious about the huge wings and dark horns that were hers alone. Maleficent could spend hours with her, wandering the Moors, delighting in how the girl still found such joy in every corner of the kingdom. The love that had grown between them was stronger than ever, and it was made even greater by all they had overcome. It seemed there was nothing that could break their bond.
Hearing the familiar sound of flapping wings, Maleficent waited as Diaval, her trusted raven and companion, landed behind her. He squawked.
“What?” she asked. She twirled her hand, and a small flicker of green magic flew out, transforming Diaval from bird to human.
Maleficent raised an eyebrow. The man looked terrified. He was often skittish and a little bit flighty—an effect of spending more than half his life in bird form. But the fear she saw now was unusual.
“Mistress,” he began, “I, uh, I bring some news.” He stopped and took a few quick breaths. “But before I say this news, you need to promise you won’t…execute me.”
Maleficent sneered, revealing her perfectly white teeth and the pair of small fangs that made even her nicest smile seem menacing. She knew that there were those in the Moors who believed she had gone soft when she made a human their queen. But most knew better. They knew that while Maleficent loved Aurora, she was still a Dark Fey. And no one doubted the damage Maleficent could—and would—inflict on the fools who dared try threaten her. “Tell me,” she said, losing patience with Diaval, “or you’ll wish I had.”
Gulping, Diaval went on. “It’s nothing of consequence, really, no reason to overreact.” He paused, realizing his voice sounded as shaky as he felt. He had known Maleficent far too long. There was no chance she wouldn’t overreact to what he was about to say. “It’s just that Prince Phillip has—”
“Leprosy?” Maleficent interjected hopefully.
“No, mistress,” Diaval said, shaking his head. He tried again. “Phillip has—”
“Black plague? Yellow fever?” Maleficent asked.
“Mistress,” Diaval said, growing exasperated. His next words came out in a rush. “Prince Phillip has asked Aurora—and here’s the part where I’m going to remind you not to kill me—asked her if she will become his…”
Maleficent’s face somehow became even paler. It turned out there was something that could get between her and Aurora: Phillip.
As Maleficent lifted her head, her green eyes bored into Diaval. “Don’t ruin my morning,” she warned.
Around them, the wind picked up—slowly at first, but then it whirled faster and faster. The air crackled with electricity. The sky turned darker as Maleficent spread her wings. A storm was brewing. Then, without another word, she took off into the air.
Diaval shivered as he watched her go. “You’re taking this incredibly well!” he shouted. A moment later, there was a flash of green as he transformed back into a bird and followed her into the sky.
Phillip couldn’t stop smiling. Aurora had said yes! For days he had been nervously planning and thinking, worrying and hoping. And now it was over, and everything had gone perfectly. Well, except for the whole part when she fell into the pond. But still. She had said yes. She had said yes even before he could properly ask. And they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. He thought his smile couldn’t possibly get wider, but then it did.
Phillip’s horse galloped through the main gates of Ulstead, and he rode toward the castle. It loomed large, its huge white facade sparkling in the sun. The two towers that dominated the building rose high into the sky, their tips appearing to vanish into the clouds. Everything about Castle Ulstead was big, lavish, and ornate. The village that lay at its feet mirrored the wealth of the castle in its own way. The buildings were smaller and their sides were more muted than the blinding white of the castle, but they were strong and well built. The roads Phillip’s horse now cantered over were smooth, and the people he passed looked healthy and happy.
Phillip slowed his horse to a walk when he spotted Percival waiting for him in the town square. He and Percival had grown up together and remained friends—despite the fact that Phillip was a prince and Percival was now a general in Phillip’s father’s army.
“So, tell me, sire,” Percival said when Phillip arrived. “Will I be the best man? Or did you choose a filthy creature from the Moors?”
Phillip’s eyes darted toward his friend. The young general did nothing to hide his hatred of the Moors and any creature that made the place its home. Despite his open, kind face, Percival had
a dark and angry streak when it came to the Moors. Phillip could usually just ignore the man’s opinion, but every now and then, Percival said or did something that crossed the line. In those moments, Phillip did his best to keep his mouth shut and his hands by his sides. But every so often Percival found himself at the end of Phillip’s sword and would, for a good length of time after, be sure to temper his tone.
“General,” Phillip said now, trying to keep the conversation on lighter—happier—ground, “if you’re asking if she said yes—”
Percival cut him off. “Oh, I know she said yes,” he said. “What human wouldn’t want to escape that place?”
“What do you have against the Moor folk, Percival?” Phillip asked. He was not in the mood for Percival’s sour attitude. Not that day. Not on the day of his engagement to the woman he loved, who ruled over those very folk Percival showed such hatred for.
Percival didn’t answer right away. Instead, he scowled and kicked his horse’s sides. It was time to go. Together the two men moved through the square and toward the castle. “Moor folk?” Percival repeated. “Is that what we call winged beasts and murderous trees?”
Phillip frowned and gave Percival a warning look. “You mind your tongue, General,” he said. “You know nothing about them.” Percival’s opinion was based on tales and adventures he had not participated in. He had not been part of King Stefan’s battle. He had not been there to witness the atrocities committed by the humans against the faeries. Yet like many others, Percival believed that the exaggerated stories were true—and that evil lay outside the human heart instead of within it. To him, Maleficent was a monster.
Percival went on. “I know Maleficent is a killer of men. Destroyed half an army by herself—”
“She’s not like that, General,” Phillip said, coming to the defense of the Dark Fey. He almost smiled. His future mother-in-law, if that was what he could call her, would have laughed at hearing him defend her. She barely acknowledged him when they did interact. And when she did, it was usually to ask if he was feeling well—with the obvious hope he wasn’t.
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