“Have you seen Prince Phillip?” Aurora asked before gulping down the drink.
Lady Fiora looked surprised. “Why, I thought he’d gone,” she said. “Back to Ulstead.”
Aurora’s heart seemed to twist.
“Did I say something—”
“Excuse me.” Aurora raced away from the dancing and across the lawn, past jugglers and an impromptu wrestling match between a hedgehog faerie and a burly human who seemed surprisingly equal in both strength and agility, past the storyteller Maleficent had uncursed, who was telling a tale about a fish with a ring in its stomach. But Phillip was nowhere she looked.
It was hard for Aurora to move through the crowd without someone stopping her to tell her either how lovely the festival was and how much they were enjoying it or to make a request that she do something about, say, their neighbors’ goats always grazing on their land.
But Aurora paused long enough only to smile or thank the person or say that she couldn’t help them right then. And with each step, her feeling of panic intensified.
She spotted Flittle near a large basin where children were laughing and bobbing for apples.
“Have you seen Phillip, Auntie?” she asked.
“No, my dear,” said Flittle. “Is he lost?”
Aurora moved on, but at every turn there was someone to engage her in conversation.
“Did you see what Lord Donald of Summerhill is wearing?” asked Lady Sybil. “He’s got on a jacket with sleeves so long they’re dragging in the dirt!”
“Beauteous Queen Aurora, whose hair resembles nothing so much as the wheat of fertile fields, I was devastated to lose the riddle contest,” said Baron Nicholas. “But though I could not have the first dance, perhaps I can have this one. Won’t you step out with me?”
“I see the reason for the treaty now,” said Balthazar the tree man. “Not before, but now.”
“What a marvelous festival this is,” said Thistlewit. “Come and take a piece of cake with your favorite auntie.”
Prince Phillip had left Perceforest. She wouldn’t ever get to say farewell to him.
She sagged down onto the grass.
All around her the festival went on, but the sounds of it seemed to recede in her ears. She could think of only one thing—she loved Phillip. The very thing she had feared, the very thing she’d thought she was protected from, had happened.
She had looked for him in moments of distress, sought him out when she was in need of cheering up. She had laughed with him and told him her fears and hopes. And she had loved him all the while, not knowing that was love. But now she had lost him forever, for want of the courage to know her own heart.
Above her head, a raven circled, cawing to get her attention. Diaval landed in front of her, hopping and waving his wings.
“What is it?” she asked him, moving close and bending toward him. “Has something happened?”
A few people looked at her, thinking that it was very strange to see their queen expecting answers from a bird. She waited for him to become a man, but he didn’t change. He just kept hopping and dancing and squawking wildly.
A terrible dread filled her.
“Nod your head twice if Maleficent is in danger,” Aurora said.
Diaval bobbed his head twice.
“Take me,” Aurora said. “I’ll follow.”
Chapter 23
The raven spun up into the air, flying off toward the stables and then circling back, as though checking to be sure Aurora was heading in the right direction. The stables? Did Diaval intend for her to ride? How far could Maleficent be from the castle?
“My queen,” said Lord Ortolan, stepping into her path, “is something amiss?”
“Yes,” she said distractedly. “My godmother.”
Aurora spotted Nanny Stoat standing near one of the long tables where villagers sat to partake of the festival food. Near her was Hammond, the man caught poaching in her woods, and a girl she judged to be his daughter. The girl was about Aurora’s size, dressed in homespun and heavy boots. “I must help her.”
“Now?” Lord Ortolan asked, looking around in bafflement. “But this is your festival. Are you saying that the signing of the treaty must be delayed? Did something happen?”
The treaty. In her horror over the thought of Maleficent in danger, she’d almost forgotten. If they didn’t sign now—that night—would it seem as though someone had broken the peace? It came to her that perhaps foiling the treaty was the motive for whatever had happened. That thought only deepened her dread.
“Your pardon,” Aurora said to the girl in the homespun, thinking of Diaval’s leading her to the stables. “Would you be willing to trade your clothes for mine?”
The girl looked up at her in confusion. “Your clothes?”
“Yes,” Aurora said.
Nanny Stoat jabbed the girl in the side. “Gretchen, you ought to agree. Her dress would pay off a chunk of your family’s debts.”
“Yes, but I can’t possibly—” The girl, Gretchen, shut her mouth and curtsied. “Of course, my queen. Yes. My clothes. And thank you for your kindness to my father.”
Hammond smiled and put his hand on Gretchen’s arm. “Your Majesty, we’d be happy to give you the shirts off our backs, but surely you’d prefer your own?”
“Not today,” Aurora said. “Nanny Stoat, I want you to be in charge for the length of time that I am gone.”
Lord Ortolan cleared his throat. “You cannot seriously mean—”
But she cut him off before he could finish. “I do.” Aurora removed the crown from her head and set it down in front of the old woman. “They’ll listen to you. And they should. Tell them that the signing will happen—there’s just been a delay. You won’t let them forget we have much in common.”
“Including some common enemies,” Nanny Stoat said, glancing at the advisor.
Aurora didn’t have time to dwell on that. She went into the tent and quickly exchanged clothing with Gretchen.
As they returned, Gretchen was still marveling over an embroidered silken slipper. Hammond smiled to see her dressed in such finery.
“Your Majesty,” he said as Aurora was about to head for the stables, “there’s something—not sure if it’s important…”
She paused.
He reached into a sack and brought out a knife. Then he held it out to her hilt-first. “I found this.”
The knife didn’t appear to be very sharp or finely made. The metal was dull. She frowned at it, growing angrier by the moment. She had explicitly forbidden weapons. But something else about it bothered her. Iron. It was a knife forged of cold iron.
The thing was an affront. And the person who had brought it wanted to disrupt the treaty, and maybe do something far worse than that.
“He won’t get in trouble, will he?” Gretchen asked, her hand on her father’s arm.
“Of course not,” Aurora said. “Why would he?”
“It was one of the nobles who dropped it,” Hammond said. “But I knew he’d deny it if I told a guard.”
“Can you describe him?” Aurora asked.
Hammond frowned. “Not his face. But he was a young man with light brown hair, dressed in blue. For a moment, I thought he noticed he’d dropped the weapon, but then he kept on walking. Like maybe he was getting rid of it.”
Aurora turned the knife over in her hand, wondering if it had anything to do with Maleficent’s disappearance. “I’m glad you told me.”