Maleficent reached to yank a single shining black feather from the cuff of Diaval’s coat. He made a sharp noise of pain, and Aurora decided that they must be his feathers after all, especially once she saw that Maleficent had signed in shining red blood that was already drying brown.
“We will do as you bid,” Maleficent said, “and respect your laws. We won’t sour anyone’s milk or steal anyone’s children”—her eyes twinkled—“so long as no one expressly agrees to a bargain involving those things.”
Nanny Stoat stepped up to sign as well. “We humans will follow the laws set forth in this document. We will not steal from the Moors, nor will we harm any faeries we encounter in Perceforest.” She fixed Maleficent with a look. “And we do not need to mention any exceptions.”
Maleficent shrugged extravagantly, and Nanny Stoat signed with the white quill the scribe provided her, dipped in black ink.
Then it was Aurora’s turn. She signed with black ink, a quill of her own, and a great flourish. “And I myself promise to do whatever I can to promote peace between my people. To that end, I will split my time between my kingdoms. Half will be spent in the palace here, and half in my palace in the Moors. But wherever I am, I promise that humans and faeries will be welcome.”
The room broke into applause. There were congratulations all around. Everyone wanted to speak with Aurora.
Lady Fiora wanted to beg Aurora’s pardon for not telling her outright about her suspicions about her brother. Lady Sabine and Lady Sybil wanted to hear about Aurora riding to Phillip and Maleficent’s rescue, which they seemed to think was both outrageous and a bit of a romantic adventure. And her pixie aunties wanted to tell her that while they liked the way she’d arranged her hair, they were sure they could magic it into a much better confection if only she’d let them.
Eventually, people began to file out.
As they did, Phillip walked toward Aurora. He was wearing a woolen doublet with a row of gold buttons up the middle and slashes showing a bright print underneath. His brown curls flopped over one eye, and his gentle smile didn’t reveal anything. Had she not known he was hurt, she would never have guessed.
“You did it,” he told her, “just like you said you would.”
She grinned up at him. “I am glad you were here to see it happen.”
“I have the oddest notion,” he said, “that when I was losing a lot of blood, you told me something I very much wanted to hear. But maybe I misheard you. Or perhaps you were carried away by your concern for me. Perhaps you were afraid I was going to die—”
“I have another riddle for you,” she said, interrupting him. “What is mine, but only you have it?”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. It was no matter that she’d already told him she loved him, even if he wasn’t sure whether it was memory or wishful thinking. She was still shy to say it again.
“That’s easy,” he said. “My heart.”
“No!” she told him. “It’s supposed to be my heart.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, his manner serious, giving the question greater weight.
“Yes,” she said. “Even when you’re not bleeding on the floor of a mine after being stabbed by my mortal enemy, I still love you.”
“Oh,” he said, looking as though he had suddenly become the shy one. “Thank goodness.” He gave her hand a squeeze and moved toward the hall, where the other courtiers were heading. She would follow in a moment. But first there was something she had to do.
Aurora turned toward her godmother. Maleficent was watching Phillip depart. She raised her eyebrows at Aurora.
Aurora walked toward her. “You aren’t still going to insist he’s a mistake.”
“If you suppose that because Prince Phillip turned out to be something of a hero, I am going to say that I like him, you are very much mistaken,” Maleficent said, but there was a light in her eyes and a curve of her lip that belied the words.
“All that proves is that you are still my dear wicked godmother,” Aurora said.
“And you are my fearless beastie,” Maleficent told her. Then she amended the pronouncement. “My fearless queen beastie.”
Epilogue
Would you like to know what it’s like to have your wings again?
Imagine falling, except instead of hitting the ground, you soar.
Imagine beginning to believe that love is never a lie, even if there are liars.
Imagine recalling that cracked bone grows back stronger.
That scars are beautiful.
You might not be quite who you were when you lost the power of flight.
But it is only in having your wings resting heavy on your back again that you realize you always and forever belonged to the sky.
You were always strong and fierce and full of magic.
Even when you were stranded on the ground.
Acknowledgments
Some of the riddles were taken, in part, from Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book. A few were invented by me.
Thank you to Emily Meehan, Brittany Rubiano, and everyone at Disney for letting me play in this world and for making the process of writing this book so much fun. Thank you to Kelly Link, Cassandra Clare, Steve Berman, and Josh Lewis for quickly convening a workshop to help me fix the first draft. Thank you to Sarah Rees Brennan for all your great notes. And apologies to Ursula Grant, who would have given me great notes had I given her the chance. Thank you to my agent, Jo Volpe, for her encouragement and for figuring out an extremely tricky schedule. And huge thanks to my best beloveds, Theo and Sebastian, for making me endless cups of coffee and letting me hole up in my office to get this done.
About the Author
HOLLY BLACK is a number one New York Times best-selling author of over thirty fantasy novels for kids and teens. She has been a finalist for an Eisner Award and the Lodestar Award and the recipient of the Mythopoeic Award, a Nebula, and a Newbery Honor. Her books have been translated into thirty-two languages worldwide and adapted for film. She currently lives in New England with her husband and son in a house with a secret library.