“She needs to heal,” Conall said, his calm voice oddly comforting to Maleficent.
Borra nodded. “You will help her, Conall,” he said. “And when she is ready, we go to war.”
His message delivered, Borra flew off. The others waited a moment before they, too, disappeared into the depths of the Nest.
Only Conall remained. He made his way to Maleficent, then stopped in front of her. He reached out a hand to help her up, but she pushed him away. His eyes lingered on her wound, which, due to her exertion, had reopened and was oozing thick black blood.
Self-conscious, Maleficent touched her bandaged wound. Perhaps she had been quick — and wrong — to push him away so forcefully. “It was you who saved me?” she asked.
Conall nodded. He turned to go and then looked back at her. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you who we are.” He moved toward a large hole in the floor, which Maleficent hadn’t noticed during Borra’s blustering. Stepping to the edge, Conall turned his back to the hole. He looked at Maleficent, his kind eyes brightening, and then he fell back and disappeared.
Inching forward, Maleficent peered over the rim of the hole. She couldn’t see anything. It was impossible to tell if there was a floor, or rocks, or something worse below. Still, she was curious. Getting to her feet, she moved so that her toes curled around the rim. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her foot…
And fell.
Maleficent tumbled through the air. Desperately attempting to gain control of the free fall, she tried to flap her wings. But she was too weak, and they wouldn’t move. She just kept falling. And she would have continued if Conall hadn’t caught her.
“Don’t—” Maleficent started.
“Easy,” Conall replied.
The protest faded on her lips as she looked around. They were in some sort of makeshift hideout. It was dark, and a fine layer of mist covered everything. But through it, Maleficent could see dozens of Dark Fey moving through the nest-like space. Some were alone. Others were in groups. Maleficent’s jaw dropped as she observed the different types of Dark Fey.
As they moved through the Nest, Conall explained. Tundra fey were pale, their wings and hair white. Smaller than the other fey, they were close to the ground, both physically and emotionally. Then there were the colorful jungle fey, with long limbs for jumping and swinging. Their wings were bright, each pair unique and compact. As Maleficent watched, one jungle fey spread her wings and then pulled them tight to her body so they virtually disappeared. That would have been helpful at dinner, Maleficent thought wryly.
And there were more. The desert fey — like Borra — had gold-flecked skin and substantial jointed wings. And the forest fey were Maleficent’s kind. It was obvious from their massive dark wings and proportions similar to hers.
But Conall revealed that no matter the kind, they were all Dark Fey. “Same as you,” he said.
Maleficent was quiet as she watched the dozens of fey flit into and out of the Nest, ignoring her presence, because to them she was not unique. “How many are there?” she finally asked. “Of…us?”
“We are all that remain,” Conall said, landing on another level of the Nest far below the one they had come from.
“My entire life—” Maleficent began, but her emotions overcame her. She had to turn away. Composing herself, she was silent for a long while, taking it all in. Conall had been somber when he said this was all that was left of the fey. But to her, the number seemed huge.
Conall motioned to a ledge farther below them. Five young fey were standing back, nervously eyeing the edge. Their wings were spread out behind them as Udo, an older Tundra fey, instructed them. Maleficent recognized him from earlier. She watched as Udo began to nudge the group forward until they were inches from the edge. Maleficent saw the fear in the young feys’ eyes, and then, with a mighty push, Udo sent them all off, into the air. Maleficent gasped as they began to fall.
“Those young ones should be connected to nature,” Conall said, his eyes glued to the fey. “Instead, they’re banished like the rest of us. Raised in exile.”
“They belong on the Moors,” Maleficent said, nodding in agreement. “In the snow, in the deserts…”
Conall sighed. “As more human kingdoms emerged, we kept moving,” he explained, “hiding in all the corners of the earth. But we knew they would find us eventually — even when we returned to our true home.”
Maleficent watched him as he spoke. His face was full of unspoken pain, and she wondered how much he had seen and sacrificed. Her eyes drifted from the warrior to the young fey, who were now swooping and laughing as they caught the wind and flew around the Nest. Their faces were full of joy and innocence. They should never have to see what Conall — or Maleficent — had seen.
“I can protect them,” she said.
“How?” Conall asked. His tone was kind, but there was defensiveness to it. “By waging war against the humans? Even the one you raised as your own?” He paused, gauging Maleficent’s reaction. When she didn’t speak, he went on. “We’ve been watching you for several years.”
At this, Maleficent startled. “And yet you stay hidden?” she asked, confused — and suddenly angry. If she had known there were others like her…what might her life have been like?
“Because you were doing something we never thought possible,” Conall explained. “You were showing us the way forward.”
Curious about what he meant, Maleficent narrowed her eyes and waited to hear more. She had simply been trying to survive and raise Aurora to love the Moors as she did.
Conall continued. “Maybe we don’t have to hide from humans,” he told her. “Maybe we can exist without fear and war. Maybe we can find a way…together.”
Maleficent’s response was swift. “That will never happen.” The pain in her stomach was a reminder of what happened when humans and faeries tried to coexist. The memory of Aurora looking at her with distrust was another.
Conall shook his head. “It already has,” he said. “With you and Aurora.” Turning, he lifted into the air. But before he left, he looked back at her. “Welcome home, Maleficent.”
Maleficent’s thoughts whirled around her head. Home. Was that where she was now? Could she learn to trust the Nest — and the other fey? She had spent so long feeling out of place, even among the Moors. Was this where she belonged?
Summoning all her strength, she slowly flew back toward the top of the Nest. If that was true, she wondered why she still felt unhappy.
Chapter Nine
AURORA HAD GIVEN UP. AFTER HOURS OF SEARCHING THE MOORS, SHE REALIZED THAT MALEFICENT WASN’T COMING HOME. AT LEAST, NOT RIGHT AWAY. With a heavy heart, she got back on her horse and rode to Castle Ulstead. The huge structure was dark when she arrived, with only a few candles lit to guide her way down the hallway to her room.
Her room. It seemed strange to think of it that way. Her real room was back in her own castle, but Phillip had insisted that she stay close while they tried to figure out what to do for the king. Aurora had had no choice but to say yes.
Now, stepping forward, she sighed. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes, and have a few moments of dreamless sleep. But it seemed her wish was not to be granted.
“We’ve been worried.” Ingrith’s voice came from the darkness and startled Aurora. Lighting a candle, Aurora saw that the queen was sitting in an ornate chair in the corner of the room. Slowly, Ingrith got to her feet and began to move toward Aurora.