“My wish,” Flittle said when she approached the bassinet, “is that you’ll never be blue, only happy all the days of your life.”
Knotgrass held back a groan. Of course Flittle’s gift would incorporate blue. The pixie was so predictable.
And then it was Thistlewit’s turn. The pixie floated up and over to the bassinet. Staring down at the baby, Thistlewit hummed a tune under her breath. Watching the green-clad faerie, Knotgrass narrowed her eyes. She should have known this would happen. The youngest pixie had not prepared for the christening at all, even though Knotgrass had reminded her over and over again. And now she was making them all look foolish as she stood there, a silly little smile on her face, not saying a word but humming away.
Knotgrass cleared her throat, hoping to get Thistlewit’s attention. The pixie didn’t look over. Knotgrass cleared her throat again, louder, but still, no reaction. Growing desperate, Knotgrass pulled a small red flower from the hem of her dress and threw it at Thistlewit’s feet. Finally, the pixie snapped out of it.
She shrugged apologetically and then turned her attention back to Aurora. The infant still slept, oblivious to all the attention directed at her and her alone. The guests leaned forward, straining to hear the final wish to be bestowed. “Dear baby,” Thistlewit said. “I wish you…I wish you…” She stammered, suddenly nervous in front of the crowd.
Knotgrass clenched her fists and her scowl grew deeper. This was horrible! Thistlewit was ruining the pixies’ moment! Stefan was probably mortified and Aurora could wake at any moment. Things couldn’t get any worse.
And then all the candles went out.
A cold wind began to blow through the Great Hall. Women’s headpieces flew off their heads and men’s capes whipped wildly around their necks. Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed. In the brief bursts of light, Knotgrass could make out the panicked looks on the faces of the crowd. But they were blurred a moment later when a gray mist rolled into the room.
Knotgrass listened to the thunder and watched the lightning. As she did, a feeling of dread began to lodge itself in her belly. She had seen this type of magic only once before—when Maleficent had returned to the Moors and created a throne for herself out of the dead branches lying around. But it couldn’t be Maleficent. She wouldn’t come into Stefan’s castle, where she would be surrounded by humans. She hated humans. No, there was absolutely no way it was Maleficent. If the faerie were here, that would mean they were all in very big trouble.
Suddenly, the lightning and thunder stopped. The candles burst back to life. A moment later, the gray smoke evaporated. And when it was all gone, standing there in the middle of the Great Hall was Maleficent.
The faerie seemed to have grown taller since Knotgrass had seen her last. She wore a long black cape that matched the dark horns protruding from her head. As Maleficent gazed around the room, she raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. In her hand she held a long staff that appeared to be made from the branch of a tree. It was gray and twisted, covered in knots. And on her shoulder sat the jet-black raven, her new companion. Robin II, Knotgrass called him in her head.
Maleficent began to move closer to the king and queen, motivating Knotgrass to take an involuntary step back. Flittle and Thistlewit, their wings flapping nervously, looked over at Knotgrass. She knew what they were silently asking. Why was Maleficent there? Why now? But she didn’t have the answers. They were going to have to wait and see.
They didn’t have to wait long.
“Well, well,” Maleficent said, her voice echoing through the hall.
It had been ages since Knotgrass had heard Maleficent speak. She had forgotten how melodic her voice could be.
“Quite the glittering assemblage,” Maleficent went on, her shining green eyes scanning the room. “Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and, how quaint…” She paused, narrowing her gaze at Knotgrass and the other two flower pixies. “Even the rabble.”
Rabble? Knotgrass fumed. That excuse for a faerie was calling her rabble? How dare she? Who did she think she was? Knotgrass took a step forward but was quickly pulled back by Thistlewit. It would do no good to try to attack the dark faerie. She was, even though Knotgrass hated to admit it, stronger and more powerful. Sighing, she scowled, waiting to hear what Maleficent would say next.
Taking in the queen, whose blond hair and freckle-dusted face were in stark contrast to her own long, dark locks and pale skin, Maleficent pulled her lips back in what appeared to be a smile. “I really feel quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.”
King Stefan had been oddly quiet up until that point. Knotgrass wondered if he was scared, too. After all, he must have known how dangerous Maleficent could be with her new dark powers. But then he stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re not welcome here,” he said.
“Not welcome?” Maleficent repeated. “Oh dear, what an awkward situation.” Turning, she made a move to leave.
Knotgrass smiled. Well, that hadn’t been too bad. She could have done without the wind and smoke, but all in all, no damage was done.
And then Leila spoke. “You’re not offended?” the gentle queen asked. Her kind heart and royal upbringing made it impossible for her to be rude.
Slowly, Maleficent turned back. The look on her face was unreadable and the feeling in the pit of Knotgrass’s stomach returned. “Oh, why no, Your Majesty,” Maleficent said. Her long, thin fingers fluttered above her heart and she began to move toward the bassinet. “And to show you I bear no ill will, I, too, shall bestow a gift on the baby.”
Sensing a gift from Maleficent could never be good, Stefan tried to step in front of the faerie and stop her approach. But she simply raised a finger and a small wind whipped up. Stefan paused, exchanging looks with Maleficent as she swept past him. He seemed to be surprised and disturbed by her power. How Leila could not sense the tension, the hatred between the two was beyond Knotgrass.
As Maleficent drew closer to the bassinet, Knotgrass looked frantically back and forth between Maleficent and baby Aurora. She had to do something. She couldn’t let the faerie near the baby. Taking a deep breath, she flew over and put herself between Maleficent and Aurora. Flittle and Thistlewit followed. “Stay away from the princess!” Knotgrass cried.
Maleficent let out a laugh. “Gnats,” she said before flicking them out of her way, one by one. Then she stepped up to the bassinet. Inside, Aurora had awakened. She was looking up, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. Knotgrass watched and waited to see what would happen next. For a moment, Maleficent just stared down at Aurora, an odd look on her face. If Knotgrass hadn’t known any better, she would have said Maleficent looked almost…jealous. But why would she be jealous?
Finally, Maleficent raised her head. Turning around, she addressed the crowd. “Listen well, all of you,” she began. “The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty. Beloved by all who know her. But before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she will…” Maleficent paused. Knotgrass watched as the faerie looked about the room, searching for something. Her gaze lingered on one of the gifts brought for Aurora. Smiling, she went on: “…prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a sleep like death. A sleep from which she will never awaken.”
The gathered crowd began to whisper, their hushed voices loud in the Great Hall. The queen gasped as Stefan took a step forward. “Maleficent,” he said, his voice full of pain. “Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
Maleficent cocked her head. “I like begging,” she said. “Do it again.”
There was a tense moment as an unspoken conversation seemed to flow between the king and the faerie. Finally, Stefan sighed. “I beg you,” he said, clenching his jaw.
“All right,” Maleficent said. Then she shrugged her shoulders, which looked barren and odd without the expansive wings attached to them. Maleficent waited one more moment before finally saying, “The princes
s can be woken from her death sleep, but only by…True Love’s Kiss.” Wind began to blow again as Maleficent started toward the doors. But she was not quite finished. “This curse will last until the end of time,” she added with a pointed look at King Stefan. “No power on earth can change it.”
With her curse bestowed, Maleficent disappeared through the doors.
had fallen. Yet the sky was bright as day as hundreds of fires burned throughout the kingdom. King Stefan had given the order. Every spinning wheel, from the smallest to the largest, was to be burned. The king didn’t care if it meant that all the spinners across the land would have to spin yarn and fabric by hand. He didn’t care if everything would take longer to be made and he didn’t care if the quality of his wife’s dresses deteriorated. He wanted all the spinning wheels destroyed.
In the Great Hall, Knotgrass nervously eyed King Stefan. She had never seen him so mad before. He had already sent the hysterical queen to her room and now he stood on the steps in front of the thrones, holding Aurora in his arms. His cheeks were bright red and he was shaking. What Knotgrass couldn’t tell, though she would never dare voice her confusion aloud, was whether he was more upset about the curse or the fact that Maleficent had entered the castle at all. She had seen the way the two of them looked at each other. It was a look that was louder than any scream. It was a look that hinted at a history that was far more complicated than Knotgrass could have imagined. It was a look wrapped up with hate, love, and pain. As if he had betrayed Maleficent and her entire family. Even her dead parents. She thought about asking the king what was really going on. Why Maleficent had taken such a personal interest in his baby. But she decided she didn’t really care. So long as she was safe, warm, and stylish, that was all that mattered. That was when King Stefan gave another order.
“Knotgrass,” he said, his voice echoing in the vast, empty hall.
The flower pixie gulped and flew closer. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
The king’s eyes narrowed as he looked the tiny faerie up and down. He sighed as though displeased but then went on. “You three are to leave the kingdom at once.”
Knotgrass’s stomach dropped. Banished from the kingdom? Where would they go? Where could they live? This was her worst nightmare. Then it got worse.
“And you are to take Aurora with you.”
Thistlewit and Flittle, who up until that point had been standing quietly by Knotgrass’s side, suddenly let out shouts of protest.
“We don’t know anything about babies!” Thistlewit cried.
Stefan glared at the pixie. “You do know Maleficent, don’t you?” he snapped. “You know what she’s capable of.”
“We can’t go up against her,” Flittle pointed out.
“That’s obvious,” Stefan replied. “All you have to do is hide the baby. Take her into the deep woods where she can’t be found. Conceal her there until the curse is over. And do not, under any circumstances, use your magic.”
“For sixteen years?” Knotgrass asked.
Stefan nodded. “Her mother and I have agreed. This is what must be done to save my child.”
Knotgrass sighed. She knew what this meant. It meant sixteen years of having to watch over a child plus Thistlewit and Flittle. Because there was no way those two were going to be any help whatsoever. They were barely capable of taking care of themselves. It would be horrible. Unless there was something in it for them…“What do we get in return?” she asked.
King Stefan’s face turned an awful shade of purple. His hands started to shake. But it was only when the king started shouting that Knotgrass realized she’d said the wrong thing.
“You will get the satisfaction of serving your ruler and king!” He screamed, his booming voice making the pixie’s hair blow backward.
Knotgrass resisted the urge to fix her locks. Then she looked into the king’s eyes—his cold, dark eyes. She glanced at his fists, which were curled in a threatening manner. Knotgrass began to tremble in fear. And this only seemed to encourage King Stefan.
He stepped closer toward her. “You do want to please the king, don’t you? Because there are certain places for traitors—places I think you will find far less comfortable,” he said menacingly.
Knotgrass moved backward until she was crouching in the corner of the room.
“Yes. Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” she stammered.
Though she’d always sensed a dark side, some inner turmoil, she had never witnessed this side of the king before. She’d always figured he was just a sensitive fellow, broken up about some past decisions, not raving mad and violent. Knotgrass shuddered. King Stefan was terrifying.
Thistlewit and Flittle crouched down next to her, and together they waited to see what King Stefan would say next. Knotgrass expected more yelling. Maybe a threat or two. What she didn’t expect was for the king to take the baby and shove her into their arms. Aurora, while only weeks old, was nearly as big as the pixies, and they struggled not to drop her onto the hard stone ground.
“On the day after her sixteenth birthday,” the king said, “bring her back to me. Now tell me. What will you do?”
“Hide the baby,” Flittle answered.
“Until when?” Stefan asked.
“Her sixteenth birthday,” Thistlewit replied, proud of herself for remembering.
But Stefan shook his head angrily. “No! The day after her birthday. Say it!”
If the king hadn’t just threatened her, Knotgrass would have rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to be reminded. “The day after her birthday!” she said. “We know! Let’s get on with it.”
Baby Aurora held between them, the three pixies made their way out of the Great Hall. Just as they reached the door, Knotgrass looked over her shoulder. King Stefan wasn’t even watching them go. He was already deep in conversation with the captain of the guards. I wonder, Knotgrass thought, does he care even the slightest that he won’t see his daughter for sixteen years? Will he miss her? Or will he be too focused on destroying Maleficent to bother?
She sighed. There was no use wondering what the king would or wouldn’t do. He had given them orders. They had no choice but to follow.
For the next few hours, Knotgrass and the others frantically rushed about, trying to get ready for their sudden departure. Knotgrass felt sick. She didn’t want to leave the castle. She loved it there, with its warm beds, delicious food, and over-the-top pageantry. Royal life suited her well. She wasn’t cut out for living in the woods again, now cooking and cleaning and, worst of all, not using magic.
But that was the life in store for her now. Stefan had made it clear: magic was out of the question. It could call attention to their hiding spot, and no one could know where they ended up—no one. So for the next sixteen years, Knotgrass thought with a sigh, life is just going to be unbearable.
When she was done gathering the few things she would be allowed to take with her, Knotgrass went to find Thistlewit and Flittle. It didn’t take long. She had tasked them with getting transportation, and found them down at the stables, sitting on the bench of a wagon. In the back, Aurora slept peacefully, nestled in warm blankets.
With a sigh, Knotgrass pulled herself up onto the bench. Then she clucked and snapped the reins and the big horse lurched forward. Moments later, they were making their way under the giant arch that marked the entrance to the castle and crossing the drawbridge. As the horse’s pace quickened, Knotgrass turned to get one last look at the castle. It looked the same, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Nothing would ever be the same for the royal family.
The odd company continued on for a while. Soon the castle disappeared from view as the road stretched out in front of them. They would eventually have to make their way off the road and into the woods, but for the time being, Knotgrass was content to stay the course. She was just settling into the gentle rocking of the wagon when, suddenly, the horse let
out a frightened whinny and took off.
The three pixies were thrown about while, in the back of the wagon, Aurora began to cry. Knotgrass reached down for the reins, but it was no use. They were flapping about wildly. The wagon was out of control!
For a few scary moments, the horse continued to gallop along, his hooves clapping on the hard ground. Aurora’s cries grew louder. Thistlewit and Flittle clung helplessly to the side of the wagon. And Knotgrass continued to try to get control of the situation. “Keep her quiet!” she shouted to the other pixies when Aurora let out a wail that spurred the horse still faster. As they went in the back to try to calm the baby, Knotgrass reached out for the reins again. Her fingers brushed them once, twice, and then finally closed around the warm leather. “Halt!” she cried, pulling back on the reins as hard as her little body would allow.
Gradually, the horse’s pace began to slow. He dropped from a gallop to a canter, then from a trot to a walk. Finally, he stopped.
Knotgrass let out a huge sigh of relief. But then she scowled. This couldn’t happen again. “Get out,” she ordered. The other pixies climbed down out of the back of the wagon. When they were standing in front of Knotgrass, the flower pixie went on. “I can’t do everything,” she said. “I simply asked you to look after the infant.”
“It’s too big for us,” Flittle protested.
“We need a smaller baby,” Thistlewit added.
Knotgrass was about to inform Thistlewit that it was impossible to make the baby smaller when she had an idea. True, she couldn’t make the baby smaller—Aurora had to grow up someday—but she could make them bigger! Smiling, she touched a finger to her forehead and said, “Grow!” Then she touched the other two.
The Curse of Maleficent Page 3