“I know, it’s hard….”
She shook her head, the reaction surprising both of them. “No, it’s too easy. This jewelry, my hair.” She lifted a hand to her perfectly coifed head. “Even my smile has changed. I don’t feel like queen of the Moors anymore.” As she finished, a prickle of doubt formed in her heart. Had she been wrong to tell Phillip how she felt? But then he squeezed her hand, his warm, open face full of the kindness and light she had fallen in love with in the first place. The prickle began to fade.
“I want to marry the girl I met in the forest. And only her,” Phillip said softly. He reached out and brushed a hand over the sleeve of her elaborate dress. His fingers tugged gently at the fabric, pulling at one of the gems. Looking up, his eyes twinkled with love. “You don’t have to wear these ridiculous clothes.”
The last of the prickle faded completely away as she moved into Phillip’s arms and squeezed him tightly. Of course he would understand. Of course he would know that she was stronger than the foolish women downstairs. He knew her and loved her for all she was; he always had.
But as she turned to watch Phillip leave, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger. An image of Maleficent, her horns covered in fabric, flashed through her mind. Who had she been to ask the Dark Fey to hide who she was? To play dress-up to make others happy?
No wonder Maleficent had gone and never returned. It was terrible to try and be someone you weren’t.
The Moors were quiet. Thick clouds had covered the sky and sent the creatures scurrying off to their beds. But while the magical creatures slept, invaders approached.
Holding up his hand, Percival signaled to the forty or so soldiers waiting behind him. At Queen Ingrith’s orders, he had found the young man who had brought the Tomb Bloom to Lickspittle in the first place. Ben had been quick to offer his assistance—as soon as he saw the nice bag of gold Gerda held up. With the boy showing them the way, Percival had led his best men to infiltrate the Moors. Their objective was to gather as many of the Tomb Blooms as possible and return—without being caught. Gerda had stiffened at the orders. The last place she wanted to go, especially at night, was the Moors. Every noise sounded suspect; every scent was troubling. She much preferred the clean and orderly Ulstead.
But Ingrith’s orders were hers to obey.
Seeing no obvious sign of danger, Percival lowered his hand, and the soldiers moved out of the trees and into a wide-open field. It was full of Tomb Blooms. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of the brilliantly colored flowers reached their petals to the moon, which had only now slipped out from behind the clouds. The white light gave the flowers an iridescent sheen and made Percival shiver nervously.
He didn’t like the light. Darkness was their friend for this mission. Beside him, Ben anxiously swung his gaze back and forth between the dark night sky and the field of Tomb Blooms.
“What if the”—he hesitated, scared even to say the words—“winged one returns?”
Gerda shook her head. “She’s gone.”
“Are you certain?” the young man pressed.
Gerda didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The boy was there to help, not ask questions. But far as she was concerned, Maleficent would never bother them again.
SITTING IN THE CENTRAL CHAMBER OF THE NEST, MALEFICENT, VERY MUCH ALIVE, LOOKED AROUND AT THE DARK FEY GATHERED TOGETHER. THE SIGHT, THOUGH NOW MORE FAMILIAR, STILL MADE HER HEART POUND ODDLY. Spending years alone with the thought that she would never meet another of her kind had made her harder, colder. But now, as she sat drinking and eating with dozens of other Dark Fey around a roaring fire, she felt some of that hardness softening.
Conall sat beside her. He, too, was silent as he listened to the voices ebb and flow around them. Maleficent couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking about as he looked around the room. What was he thinking now, as he turned and looked at her? Was he thinking that she seemed lost? Or was he thinking that perhaps here, with them, she was found? His eyes locked on hers, and then slowly he passed her a flagon. She almost laughed at the simple nature of the gesture, which was nothing like the complexity of her thoughts.
She took a sip and then moved to hand it back to him. As she did so, the tips of their wings touched. Instantly, Maleficent pulled her wings back and adjusted on her seat. The sensation of touching someone else was foreign to her. But to her surprise, Conall did not back away.
And then searing pain tore through her. She doubled over as vision after vision bombarded her mind. She could see blades flashing in the air, men slicing through dozens of Tomb Blooms in one fell swoop. She could hear the angry, hurt screams of her kind. Instantly, the softness was gone. Her eyes flashed with fury.
“I have to go,” she said.
“What is it?” Conall asked, his voice tinged with worry.
“Humans are in the Moors,” she answered. “I feel it.” She stood, ready to fly. But Conall blocked her way.
He shook his head, then nodded toward her wound. “You’re not ready,” he said.
Maleficent was not in the mood. “Move,” she snarled.
By this time, the other fey had noticed the anger that flowed from Maleficent’s skin. Without her realizing it, green magic was pooling around her feet. Conall ignored them all as he tried in vain to calm her.
“If you go now, you will die,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Let her go, Conall.” At Borra’s voice, Maleficent turned. “Nobody can control her,” he said.
Maleficent knew what Borra was doing. It was what he had done since the moment they met: he was goading her, pushing her to release the darkness. She might have fought it before, but not now. More green magic pulsed through her and into the air. “I will not ask again,” she said, turning back to Conall.
Tension hung in the air. Then, finally, he moved aside.
Maleficent didn’t hesitate. Brushing past him, she spread her wings and lifted from the ground. In moments, she was out of the Nest and flying through the night sky. Her wound ached, but it was no match for the rage that boiled within her. She had left the Moors for only a few days and already they were in danger. Humans. Conall could say all he wanted about the power of love and the ability to change. But those were only words. Actions spoke louder. And right now, the actions of the humans were making her head scream with the voices of her ancestors’ anguish.
Hearing wings behind her, she turned, half expecting to see Conall. To her surprise, it was Borra. He didn’t say anything as he flew up next to her. But she knew by the look in his eyes why he was there. He was going to help her take down the humans.
In silence, they flew the rest of the distance to the Moors. Swooping down, Maleficent and Borra landed on a large tree branch that looked over the Tomb Bloom clearing—or rather, what had been the Tomb Bloom clearing. It was now a scorched tract, stripped bare. Not a single flower remained. All that was left were boot marks in the deep mud.
Maleficent bit back a cry, her heart breaking once again. “This is where we bury our dead,” she whispered, explaining the significance to Borra. “They’ve destroyed it.”
Borra looked out at the devastation with a flash in his eyes, then turned to her. His voice was not full of the usual anger Maleficent heard when he spoke. This time, there was another emotion, something that sounded almost like pain. “This is what humans do,” he said. “They are nothing but locusts, swarming the earth. We have to stop them.” He paused and gestured to the field of nothing. “You spent years caring for a human. Now care for your own.”
Maleficent met his gaze. A part of her knew he was right. But another part of her heard Conall, speaking of hope, saying that she and Aurora had shown him another way was possible. Why did it have to be one way or the other? Why couldn’t she just find Aurora and leave the other humans alone?
Suddenly, a flock of birds burst into the air.
Maleficent sensed danger and knew the humans were still nearby. Pushing Borra into th
e air, she made for the open sky.
“Fire!” someone shouted.
Behind the fey, dozens of soldiers, unseen until now, lifted their crossbows. Then they fired. Iron bullets pierced the air. THWIP-THWIP-THWIP! The bullets came from above, below, and all around her. She and Borra ducked and weaved, but there were too many soldiers and there was no place to hide.
Time seemed to slow down as Maleficent struggled to stay in the air and away from the iron that would destroy her. She heard Borra screaming and the humans shouting. But something was pulling her back, slowing her down. Weakened by her still healing wound, Maleficent was falling rapidly. She wasn’t going to survive this. She knew it. She looked down at the empty field as she stretched her wings and prepared for the inevitable….
Suddenly, powerful arms wrapped around her, and a moment later, wings covered her entire body. Startled, she looked up into the warm, kind eyes of Conall. Time stopped as they hovered in the sky, cocooned together.
And then Conall’s body began to convulse as bullet after bullet slammed into him. Maleficent screamed as they fell toward the ground. Maleficent and Conall landed hard and then rolled for a few feet before coming to a stop. Beneath Maleficent, Conall didn’t move.
But the soldiers kept coming, their crossbows rearmed, ready to finish them off.
Maleficent raised a hand, and the last of her green magic poured out. Pulling the roots and branches from the ground around them, she formed a protective barrier. The soldiers fired, but the bullets bounced off her shield. With one hand on Conall’s chest, Maleficent looked out and watched as Borra let loose the rage he had kept inside.
Soldiers dropped around him one by one as he rampaged. Borra blew some back with his wings while he beat others with tree branches ripped from trunks like they were kindling. Then, with a roar so loud it made a nearly unconscious Conall shiver, Borra went after the last of the men. The ground in front of him opened, swallowing up the soldiers. The air filled with their cries.
When Borra was done, there was only silence.
The soldiers were gone. Slowly letting the branches and roots pull apart, Maleficent allowed Borra to lift Conall in his arms. Then, together, they began to carry him back to the Nest. Maleficent could do nothing but fly, her eyes trained on the warrior whose face was now ashen, his eyes closed.
The fight, fall, and magic had drained any energy Maleficent had left. But as they flew, one thing kept her wings pumping. It was a vow—a simple one, but one she was going to see through to the end. She was going to make the humans pay. Every last one of them.
On one of the castle’s guard towers, Queen Ingrith stood waiting. She was making her own vows. Vows to destroy. Vows to take power. Vows she made nearly every evening. Only now, she could finally see them through.
Hearing a commotion, she looked down and saw a line of soldiers approaching the castle. She could see, even from a distance, that the large brown sacks they were carrying were full. She allowed herself a satisfied smile.
The sound of boots on stone alerted her to the presence of Gerda and Percival, who had come ahead of the others. Turning, she waited for them to make their report. Their faces were smeared with dirt, and their clothes were a mess, but they looked pleased. “We’ve got them,” Gerda said as she approached. “Over a thousand blooms!”
“Maleficent was there, Your Majesty,” Percival added, earning himself a stern glare from Gerda. “She was in the Moors with two others. One of them sacrificed himself for her.”
“One creature saved another?” Ingrith asked.
Percival nodded.
Interesting, she thought. She had not foreseen that. She had anticipated that the Dark Fey would look after only themselves, the way Maleficent had looked after only herself when she abandoned Aurora in Ulstead. Ingrith shrugged. No matter. It wouldn’t change anything.
“Iron or no iron,” Percival went on, “they will be coming for us.”
Leaving her perch, Ingrith joined Gerda and Percival in the castle’s main gate. Once there, she slowly picked up a Tomb Bloom with her gloved hand. She ran a finger gently along the petal. “One can only hope,” she said.
“Mother?”
Hearing Phillip’s voice, Ingrith startled. The Tomb Bloom dropped to the ground. He was standing with his arms crossed, looking back and forth between her and the soldiers.
“What is all this?” he asked.
Swallowing, Ingrith took off her glove and picked up the Tomb Bloom. The pain was instant as her flesh touched the flower, but she bit back a cry and held it out to her son. “It was going to be a surprise,” she said. “Real flowers for your wedding.”
“Flowers?” Phillip repeated. “Won’t they make you ill?”
Ingrith felt small beads of sweat pooling at her hairline as she continued to hold the offending flower. “A small sacrifice for Aurora. She deserves it,” Ingrith lied. She had to make her son believe all was well. Ingrith thrust the flower into his hand and quickly put her glove back on. Immediately, she felt her heart begin to slow and the sweat subside. “Get some rest now,” she said, ushering Phillip back inside the castle. “In a few hours, it will all be over.”
As he disappeared through the doors, Ingrith looked back at the Tomb Blooms and smiled to herself sinisterly. Indeed, in a few hours it would all be over—for the faeries.
MALEFICENT WATCHED AS BORRA SLOWLY LOWERED CONALL TO THE GROUND IN FRONT OF THE GREAT TREE. THEY HAD ARRIVED BACK AT THE NEST NOT A MOMENT TOO SOON. Conall’s breathing was shallow and his face pale. Blood oozed from dozens of wounds and pooled beneath him. The sight made Maleficent sick with guilt.
The tree seemed to react to Conall’s pain and Maleficent’s grief. Its leaves drooped, and its bark began to drip, as though it were shedding tears. The deep roots lifted, creating a cradle around the Dark Fey as he lay motionless.
News of what had happened quickly spread, and the chamber grew crowded as the other fey gathered. Their voices were hushed as they talked among themselves. Maleficent overheard bits and pieces of conversations. “Humans.” “Iron bullets.” “Surprise attack.” And the worst of it: “Sacrifice.”
Maleficent looked down at Conall, trying to calm her racing heart. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. She had not asked him to sacrifice his life for hers, yet it was almost as if she had known that he would be there. That their destiny had been written long before. But it still seemed wrong. She had only just found Conall. Now she was going to lose him—forever.
Hearing a sniffle beside her, Maleficent turned to look. A young fey, one she had watched learn to fly, had come to stand beside her. The young one was openly crying as she gingerly reached out to touch one of Conall’s many wounds. Seeing her own pain mirrored in the girl’s face, Maleficent carefully wrapped her arms around the young fey. The girl turned her head into Maleficent’s shoulder and let the tears fall. Covering the girl with her wings, Maleficent slowly rubbed the girl’s head as, together, they grieved.
Lost in the moment, Maleficent didn’t notice Borra’s eyes on her as she comforted the girl. Her anger was still there, simmering close to the surface as she stood under the heavy leaves of the Great Tree beside a dying Conall. But she did not need to show Borra that. He knew. Conall’s sacrifice did not just impact her. It impacted the whole Nest. And when he was gone, he would leave an impossibly large hole.
Diaval didn’t like this. He didn’t like the Moors without Maleficent, he didn’t like being trapped in human form, and he certainly didn’t like being forced to leave the Moors—again—to attend Aurora’s wedding. As far as he was concerned, she should be getting married in her own castle among her own people, not across the river in the cold of Castle Ulstead.
And yet here he was, following a long procession of Moor folk as they made their way through the Moors. The sun was just rising over the horizon, lighting the Moors in brilliant reds, oranges, and pinks. Diaval looked up. The sky was cloudless; it was the perfect day for a wedding. Still, he couldn’t shake the feel
ing that a storm was coming, and it made him uneasy. He snapped at a mushroom faerie as it moved past him, nearly tripping him.
Ahead, Lief, Aurora’s tree advisor, came to a stop at the border. Knotgrass fluttered nervously about, trying to keep order. “Everyone stay together!” she called. “We’re about to leave the Moors.”
“Grab the hand or the wing or the tail of whoever is closest to you,” Flittle added.
Satisfied that they were ready, Lief growled and then stepped over the border. For the first time in a long time, he, and almost every faerie behind him, left the Moors and entered the realm of the humans.
As Knotgrass, Flittle, and Thistlewit flew around him, Diaval kept his head down. The feeling in his stomach grew stronger the closer they got to Ulstead Castle. He saw colorful banners flapping in the breeze and heard bells ringing joyfully, but Diaval remained wary. They were, in his opinion, entering enemy territory. And without Maleficent, they were doing so without a true guardian.
Approaching the main gate, Diaval spotted a line of heavily armed soldiers. It was odd in contrast to the otherwise festive atmosphere, and he picked up his pace so as not to spend too much time near them. Ahead, guards were directing wedding attendees. There were two lines. The humans, a hodgepodge of nobles and commoners, were being directed one way, while the Moor folk were told to go directly into the chapel.
As Diaval got closer to the chapel, a soldier stopped him.
“Oh, I’m with the bride,” Diaval said.
To his surprise, the soldier pulled him out of the line. “We’ve been asked to let the, er, other kind,” he said, gesturing at the Moor folk, “find their seats first.”
For a split second, Diaval was confused. What did the soldier mean? Then it clicked. To the soldier, Diaval looked like a human. He silently cursed Maleficent for leaving him in this horrific state. “Actually, I’m a raven,” he said, trying to clear things up.
This time it was the soldier who looked confused. “A what?” he asked.
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