“This way,” they said. “Our mistress sent us to lead you.”
Phillip thought of the last time he had been led by some of the Fair Folk—led astray—and he checked the stars. He didn’t want to get lost and arrive late, especially not that night. He was well aware that this was a test, and not one he could afford to fail if he didn’t want Maleficent to continue to think ill of him. He hoped for her approval, but he would settle for her not threatening him anymore.
It seemed that the little faeries were leading him in the right direction, however. Soon the shallow pools opened into a lake dotted with tiny islands, with lights blooming beneath the surface of the water. Glowing nymphs emerged, surfacing and then diving again, leading him to the largest and most central island, where he could see the outlines of Maleficent and Aurora. A green castle with spires reaching into the sky towered behind them. They stood under a tree hung with glowing lanterns that was beside a long table. Next to them was a collection of faeries, none of their shapes familiar.
Phillip blinked in surprise at the enormous leafy palace. He was absolutely certain it hadn’t been there before. But the Moors were changeable and he supposed magic meant the landscape could alter itself in accordance with the whims of the faeries.
As he got closer, his heart thudded faster. If any of the people he knew in Ulstead had seen him doing this, they would have thought he’d run mad. Half the nobles in Perceforest would agree. There were countless stories of faerie food and how even a single bite could bind you to them, trapping you in their clutches forever. Yet with Aurora’s shy smile coming into view, he could not regret coming.
If it meant being bound to her, it could not be so terrible a fate.
Aurora wore a flowing dress of pale ivory, which blew in the slight breeze. Her hair was loose and fell around her shoulders in a river of gold, with a garland of flowers at her brow in place of a crown. She looked so beautiful that for a moment he felt as though every other thought had been struck from his head.
“Hello, Phillip,” Aurora said, walking down the hill in her bare feet.
She petted his horse’s nose, laughing as it snuffled in her hand.
Watching her, he had a feeling of such intense love that it was not unlike agony.
“You look well tonight,” he said, and immediately felt like a fool. Surely he knew how to pay her a better compliment than that.
One of the hedgehog faeries came and took the reins of his horse. He jumped down, his polished boots immediately sinking in the mud. He looked down at them sadly.
He was wearing a doublet of the darkest blue velvet, with a bit of golden rope across the chest and at the shoulders. And muddy boots.
Maleficent walked to the edge of the isle, the feathers of her wings ruffling in the wind. Her hair was hidden under her black cap, and there were jet cuffs at the bases of her horns and a necklace of jet beads around her throat. Or at least he thought they were jet beads. Upon second look, they appeared to be shimmering black beetles. When she saw him, her lips stretched into a wide smile—perhaps slightly too wide for Phillip’s comfort.
Beside her were Diaval, the raven-man, and a host of other Fair Folk—wallerbogs, tree sentinels, mushroom faeries, pixies, hobs, and foxkin—some which loomed and others which scampered. They all stared at him with eyes that seemed more animal than human.
“You came,” Maleficent said, as though that was a surprise to her, and not necessarily a good one.
Phillip offered his arm to Aurora. She took it, her body a warm and steadying presence as he moved away from the embankment and toward Maleficent.
“Godmother,” Aurora said, “shall we sit?”
Phillip’s gaze went to the banquet table. Along the vast length of it, a scarlet cloth was draped. Plates of silver at various heights were piled with food, some of it familiar, but much of it not. There were heavy pitchers, black glass goblets, and clusters of fat candles, their wax running over their sides to clot in pearls and runnels.
“Yes, of course,” Maleficent said, her hand stretching toward the table in invitation. “I wouldn’t want either of you to go hungry.”
The faerie took her place in an ominous chair at the head of the table. It was tall and had what looked like horns that curved in and then out, carved from ebonized wood. She gestured to the other end of the table, where a matching chair rested. “As the guest of honor, you shall have that one, Phillip. And you, my dear,” she said to Aurora, “can be seated at my side.”
A possum faerie wearing a cape pulled out Aurora’s chair. It was carved in the shape of spread wings and gilded so that it shone almost as brightly as her locks.
Other faeries began to scamper to the table and find themselves places; some climbed up onto stools, others onto piles of pillows, and a few of the taller faeries sat on low seats made from hollow logs.
At the far end of the table, Phillip considered what Maleficent had in store for him. Even the tableware was alarming. He had what appeared to be a small silver pitchfork on one side of his pewter plate and a dagger on the other. He lifted the dagger experimentally and found it heavy in his hand, the way a real weapon would be.
A small hedgehog faerie poured elderflower water into a black glass goblet in front of him. It perfumed the air with a scent so pleasant that he allowed himself a sip.
It tasted like sweet, pure water, the kind that bubbled up from springs. He guzzled it all in what felt like a single swallow.
This won’t be so bad, he thought a moment before he noticed that one of the dishes was creeping toward him on crab legs. He startled, rocking back in his chair.
“Something the matter?” Maleficent called down the table.
“N-no!” Phillip said as another plate scuttled around on the table, veering toward what appeared to be a woman made entirely of roots and greenery. Fat globes of grapes bounced toward him, followed by a dish of mushrooms—chanterelles, chicken-of-the-woods, faerie ring champignon, wood ears, and honey fungus, all cooked with wild garlic leaves. Then marsh samphire, sautéed. A collection of hard-boiled eggs paraded before him next—snake eggs, starling eggs, quail eggs, white and brown, some speckled and some blue. A few plates were carried on the backs of beetles, while others rested on the backs of turtles. Others appeared enchanted to move on their own.
Then a pile of blackberries and damson plums wriggled forward, beside a pot of fresh cream.
Behind it was a plate of crispy fried spiders and a tray of oblong white snake eggs.
A large tureen on wheels was being pulled down the table by a tiny faerie. It contained a bright green potage of wild leek and nettle. The faerie waved around a ladle in a slightly threatening manner and then dumped some of the soup unceremoniously in a bowl in front of Prince Phillip.
“We hope you don’t mind simple fare,” Maleficent said with a wide, malicious smile.
Beside her, Aurora had an uneasy expression. She was looking at Phillip as though she fully expected him to flee the table. And he had to admit that he was tempted. In the air overhead, what he at first had taken for oil lamps suspended in the trees turned out to be more tiny faeries, glowing with pale yellow light and peering down at him.
He thought of a story he’d heard from his nurse when he was a child, about a girl who was sent by her wicked stepmother out into the cold to die. In the snow, the girl stumbled on a witch sitting by a fire. The girl was so polite that the witch gave her a warm fur coat so that she passed the night cozily. When the girl returned home, she discovered her pockets were laden with treasure. Jealous, the stepmother sent her own daughter out into the cold the following night. But her daughter was rude to the witch, so the witch put out the fire and let that girl freeze to death.