All around her, the flowers began to change. The petals grew larger and darker until enormous black roses crawled over every surface that had previously been decorated with peonies, daisies, or bluebells.
“Much better,” Maleficent said with satisfaction.
“Oh, yes,” said Diaval. “Not menacing at all.”
Faeries had begun to explore the feast. She saw some wallerbogs tasting the soup and a foxkin nibbling on the bread. One tiny winged butterfly faerie took an enormous bite out of a marzipan plum and spat it out in disgust when he realized it was made of almond paste. A tree woman was causing golden pears to bloom on her arms and offering them to passersby.
The humans appeared nervous, but not entirely ungracious. However, that nervousness turned to outright fear in Maleficent’s presence. People hastened to clear a path at her approach.
Then she heard a familiar voice.
“A witch she was,” he said. “And in a wave of her hand, I was no longer myself. I was a cat! That’s right, the very sort that hunts for mice or sleeps by your hearth. I opened my mouth to protest, to cry out for help, but the only sound that came out was a meowwwwwww.”
Nervous laughter followed. A few small children clapped their hands, clearly delighted at the prospect of becoming cats.
It was the storyteller Maleficent had enchanted. She walked to the edge of his crowd, raising a single eyebrow at him. This time she wore no cloak. He could see her quite clearly.
“And that began m-my adventure,” he stammered, his face paling at the sight of Maleficent. He went on with the tale, obviously rattled. “I ran into the bushes. The witch hunted for me but could not discover my hiding place. Long I waited, tail twitching, trying to get used to a body that moved on all fours and was overwhelmed with smells. Luckily, cats from the neighborhood found me. I fell in with a grizzled old tom who gave me good advice. He showed me how to hunt. Soon I was happy lying in the sun, eating what I caught, drinking from streams. I even found a cat to take to wife, and we were soon expecting our first litter of kittens. My old life seemed far behind me, though I never quite got used to the fleas.
“But then this good lady, Maleficent the faerie, came upon me and turned me back into myself. And here she is, the hero of the hour. My lady, you have my thanks! Truly, this story is a tribute to you.”
Maleficent was impressed and amused by the tale he’d spun out of perhaps a week spent sulking around the Moors in feline form. She bowed to both him and the crowd.
After some wandering across the grass, Diaval had acquired a mug of some foaming beverage that he was effusive in praising, and Maleficent had spotted where the dancing was to take place.
Better-dressed people milled close to a large bonfire, where a band had struck up a tune. As Maleficent approached, she saw that the nobles were even more afraid of her than the villagers had been, shrinking back, ladies in gowns clutching one another’s hands. She tried to smile, but at the sight of her fangs, a woman tripped and fell into the balloon of her own dress. It took two footmen to get her up again.
Diaval had to be turned into a raven for a full five minutes to hide his laughter.
Across the way, Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass buzzed around without causing much alarm, but when a faerie piper offered his services to the musicians, she could tell that they were afraid he would lead the crowd in an enchanted dance.
And so what if he did? Maleficent thought with resentment. It might be a little uncomfortable, but at least it would get everyone on their feet.
Perhaps it would even prove that magic could be employed entertainingly.
As Maleficent considered that, the crowd began to stir. Then it parted as footmen rolled out a carpet. And behind the carpet walked Aurora in a gown of blue, her crown glinting in the torchlight. She looked regal, Maleficent thought. She looked like her mother. She even had her eyes—eyes that met Maleficent’s as she stepped into the dancing area. The girl gave her a quick grin, the impish one she’d had since she was a child.
The musicians, including the faerie piper, took up a pavane.
And Count Alain stepped out to take Aurora’s hand. He was dressed all in black velvet, making the stripe of white in his hair stand out. On his chest, he wore a large iron pin studded with garnets. Maleficent narrowed her eyes, recalling dangling him over the forest floor. She was sorry not to have an excuse to do it again.
Together, they began the stately steps of the dance, looking for all the world as though they were a couple.
How had he managed it? Maleficent turned her gaze to Lord Ortolan suspiciously. And indeed, he did look pleased. But she was surprised to see that behind him, Flittle, Thistlewit, and Knotgrass looked equally happy. Flittle was clasping her hands together and whispering to Knotgrass.
Stupid meddling pixies. What do they think they’re doing?
In front of the crowd, Aurora and Count Alain stood side by side with their hands clasped. They bent their knees slightly toward the audience and then toward each other, heads high. Together, they took a few steps, went up on their toes, took a few more steps, and went up on their toes again. Then, parting hands, they each took a turn about the grass; then they came back and clasped hands again, spinning around each other. When Aurora stumbled, Count Alain caught her ably.
Maleficent’s gaze swept the crowd. She spotted Phillip in a tunic of deep blue velvet, leaning against a flower-covered support, his gaze on Aurora unmistakably that of a boy suffering in love.
She crossed the lawn to stand beside him.
“Come to gloat?” he asked her sulkily.
“I may not like you,” she said, “but I am not fool enough to prefer him.”
Phillip gave a hollow laugh. Up close, he seemed a bit haggard. Although he was dressed in his typical princely finery, he didn’t appear to have slept since the last time Maleficent saw him, at the banquet.
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you, princeling?”
“I told her,” he said, “and it went just as you told me it would. I was a fool.”
“What excellent news,” Maleficent said. “This party grows better and better.”
“At least one of us can be happy,” he said. “I do not know that I will ever be happy again.”
Maleficent turned to watch the dance with raised brows. As Aurora and Count Alain went through the synchronized hops and steps, she could see that the hushed crowd thought the ridiculous skunk must have Aurora’s favor.
Finally, the music ended and both partners bowed slightly. Then the musicians struck up another piece—a lively galliard. The grass filled with courtly dancers. The townsfolk watched, waiting for their turn at one of the country dances.
Although there were unpartnered ladies in attendance and Prince Phillip ought to have led one of them onto the floor, he did not. Looking lovesick, he departed.
Count Alain took Aurora’s hand, pulling her to him and whispering something in her ear. Even though she wasn’t close, Maleficent noticed the girl’s expression change to alarm. Without a glance at anyone else, Aurora allowed Alain to draw her away from the clearing and back to the palace.
Maleficent liked that even less than the dance.
“Diaval,” she hissed, “we are going to follow Aurora.”
“Are we, mistress? How very different from my usual orders.”
She scowled at him, and he gave her a grin. It was useless trying to intimidate the raven-man these days. He knew her entirely too well.
Together, they moved through the crowd, toward the palace. Sometimes Maleficent thought she saw a flash of the girl’s golden hair or her crown, but it was hard to be sure. Entering the hall from outside, she was surprised to find Prince Phillip already there, a half step ahead of her, and heading for the stairs.