And to unclasp Count Alain’s necklace from her throat so she could throw it into the fire.
Chapter 12
Prince Phillip had traveled to Perceforest at his father’s request. Go and meet our neighbor, King Stefan. See if you can interest him in trade. I understand that he needs soldiers for his army and that he possesses a large quantity of gold.
For his part, Phillip was pleased to be on an adventure. He had never before been in a place where no one knew him and where he was unburdened from all the expectations of being Ulstead’s future king. Of course, he had gotten instantly lost in the woods. He’d spent the first night sleeping under the stars and the whole second day wandering. The trees grew too thick for him to see the horizon and get his bearings. The ground was covered in shallow pools and patches of sucking mud that made the way treacherous for his horse.
And then he’d spotted Aurora in her blue gown, gesturing wildly at nothing as she rehearsed a speech she was intending to give her aunties.
Hopping down from his horse, he’d thought first of getting directions. He was a little worried about being laughed at and very relieved to see another person. But the closer he got, the more fascinated he became. Not just by the roses in her cheeks or the shy sweetness of her smile or the way she seemed to belong to the woods, like some sort of sprite. There was something in her face that spoke of mischief—and kindness.
In Phillip’s life, there had been precious little of either.
Aurora had been surprised by him, clearly not thinking there was anyone nearby. She’d startled and slipped. He’d caught her hand before she fell, and at her touch, he’d felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest.
For a moment, he’d been unable to breathe.
So he had remained in Perceforest, through the death of King Stefan. Through Aurora’s being crowned and the bright summer’s fading into autumn.
He’d remained even though he had been unable to wake her. He hadn’t loved her enough, he knew. They’d only just met.
He hadn’t loved her then like he loved her now.
Every few weeks he had gotten another letter from his mother and had sent back excuses. But when the latest one had come directly from the hand of a messenger, he knew he had run out of ways to prolong his visit. He took it from his pocket now, looking it over in the moonlight.
Dear Phillip,
You must return to Ulstead as soon as possible. We know nothing of this young queen except she is a great beauty—which we can readily believe, since we suspect she is the reason for your continued absence. But until you return home and your people are able to see you with their own eyes, wild speculation and strange rumors about your doings and safety will continue to abound. Finish your business—whatever it is—and return to us. You have a duty to your own country.
The letter was signed with his mother’s full title and her sigil.
He sighed, crumpled it up, and tossed it toward the fire. He would write back and give her a specific date when he would return. That would mollify her enough that he would be able to stay another week or two, at least.
But eventually he would have to return home.
And before that, he would have to do what he’d been too shy to since he’d been in Perceforest: he would have to speak. He must tell Aurora that he loved her.
Over and over, he thought about the words he planned to say, trying out new phrases and then discarding them, attempting to persuade himself that she wouldn’t prefer to be courted by some magical creature or one of the nobles who fell over himself to admire her beauty. He whispered words out loud to the cold sky, stopping halfway through each grandiose speech, hating how absurd he sounded.
“Aurora, if my heart were the moon, then you would be the sun, because the sun makes the moon glow, and I glow with, er, love…?
“My heart is an overfull bucket, waiting to pour itself on you…?
“When I think of you, I feel…”
She wouldn’t laugh at him. She was too kind for that. She would let him down gently and then he could return home, knowing he had no hope of her. When he saw her again, he would have had time to get used to the idea. And they would remain close, which was no small thing for the monarchs of neighboring kingdoms.
Despite those grim thoughts, he smiled, thinking of her parting words to him that night: The answer I give is no, but it means yes. Now what is the question?
A riddle for a riddle.
He puzzled over it, turning the words in his mind. When it struck him, he felt like a fool. It was the answer to the question he’d asked her immediately before it.
Would you mind?
Will you walk with me? Just for a few minutes? Would you mind?
No, she wouldn’t mind. She’d go for the walk with him.
Phillip was still smiling when a horned figure landed at the edge of his balcony.
Maleficent.
Her lips were carmine red, and the angles of her face were slightly too sharp. On her shoulder sat a raven, watching Phillip with black eyes. Behind her, lightning needled across the sky, although there had been no storm on the horizon earlier.
She raised a finger as though to curse him.
“Uh, hello,” he said, taking several involuntary steps back, his heart speeding. Despite his knowing that she was Aurora’s loving godmother—well, sort of her godmother—he still found her frightening. “I am sure you were looking for someone else, but—”
“I overheard you and your sickly love speeches. You did not ask for my permission to court Aurora,” Maleficent said, her eyes blazing with suspicion. “Like most faeries, I am a stickler for all the little courtesies. Not to mention easy to offend.”
Prince Phillip took a deep breath, trying to quash his fear. Squaring his shoulders, he began. “May I have your permis—”
“You may not,” she said, interrupting him.
“I thought you liked me,” he said with what he hoped was a friendly smile.
“I do not,” she told him, eyebrows lifting. “Although, most of the time I can barely tell you apart from the others. The only thing that is memorable about you is that you’ve overstayed your welcome in this kingdom.”
“We both love Aurora—” he began.
Maleficent narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not speak to her of this foolishness. Do not declare yourself. And do not cross me, princeling. You would not want me for an enemy.”
“Of course not,” he said. “But I don’t understand what I’ve done to offend you.”
She inclined her head toward him in a way that made him wonder if she was considering spearing him on her horns. “You offend me by behaving as though your fleeting feelings are of some consequence. You intend to fling them at Aurora and leave her pining for you as you return home and forget about her.”
“I would never—”
“I know about fickle hearts. I know that a love like yours is weak when set against your ambition.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. “About me and about love.”
“Do not test me and I won’t test your claims.” With a sweep of her cape, she went to the edge of the balcony and hurled herself into the night. Her great wings carried her up toward the moon.
Prince Phillip stood still, drinking in gulps of night air until his heart quieted. Until his breathing became normal again.