The tree seemed to react to Conall’s pain and Maleficent’s grief. Its leaves drooped, and its bark began to drip, as though it were shedding tears. The deep roots lifted, creating a cradle around the Dark Fey as he lay motionless.
News of what had happened quickly spread, and the chamber grew crowded as the other fey gathered. Their voices were hushed as they talked among themselves. Maleficent overheard bits and pieces of conversations. “Humans.” “Iron bullets.” “Surprise attack.” And the worst of it: “Sacrifice.”
Maleficent looked down at Conall, trying to calm her racing heart. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. She had not asked him to sacrifice his life for hers, yet it was almost as if she had known that he would be there. That their destiny had been written long before. But it still seemed wrong. She had only just found Conall. Now she was going to lose him — forever.
Hearing a sniffle beside her, Maleficent turned to look. A young fey, one she had watched learn to fly, had come to stand beside her. The young one was openly crying as she gingerly reached out to touch one of Conall’s many wounds. Seeing her own pain mirrored in the girl’s face, Maleficent carefully wrapped her arms around the young fey. The girl turned her head into Maleficent’s shoulder and let the tears fall. Covering the girl with her wings, Maleficent slowly rubbed the girl’s head as, together, they grieved.
Lost in the moment, Maleficent didn’t notice Borra’s eyes on her as she comforted the girl. Her anger was still there, simmering close to the surface as she stood under the heavy leaves of the Great Tree beside a dying Conall. But she did not need to show Borra that. He knew. Conall’s sacrifice did not just impact her. It impacted the whole Nest. And when he was gone, he would leave an impossibly large hole.
Diaval didn’t like this. He didn’t like the Moors without Maleficent, he didn’t like being trapped in human form, and he certainly didn’t like being forced to leave the Moors — again — to attend Aurora’s wedding. As far as he was concerned, she should be getting married in her own castle among her own people, not across the river in the cold of Castle Ulstead.
And yet here he was, following a long procession of Moor folk as they made their way through the Moors. The sun was just rising over the horizon, lighting the Moors in brilliant reds, oranges, and pinks. Diaval looked up. The sky was cloudless; it was the perfect day for a wedding. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a storm was coming, and it made him uneasy. He snapped at a mushroom faerie as it moved past him, nearly tripping him.
Ahead, Lief, Aurora’s tree advisor, came to a stop at the border. Knotgrass fluttered nervously about, trying to keep order. “Everyone stay together!” she called. “We’re about to leave the Moors.”
“Grab the hand or the wing or the tail of whoever is closest to you,” Flittle added.
Satisfied that they were ready, Lief growled and then stepped over the border. For the first time in a long time, he, and almost every faerie behind him, left the Moors and entered the realm of the humans.
As Knotgrass, Flittle, and Thistlewit flew around him, Diaval kept his head down. The feeling in his stomach grew stronger the closer they got to Ulstead Castle. He saw colorful banners flapping in the breeze and heard bells ringing joyfully, but Diaval remained wary. They were, in his opinion, entering enemy territory. And without Maleficent, they were doing so without a true guardian.
Approaching the main gate, Diaval spotted a line of heavily armed soldiers. It was odd in contrast to the otherwise festive atmosphere, and he picked up his pace so as not to spend too much time near them. Ahead, guards were directing wedding attendees. There were two lines. The humans, a hodgepodge of nobles and commoners, were being directed one way, while the Moor folk were told to go directly into the chapel.
As Diaval got closer to the chapel, a soldier stopped him.
“Oh, I’m with the bride,” Diaval said.
To his surprise, the soldier pulled him out of the line. “We’ve been asked to let the, er, other kind,” he said, gesturing at the Moor folk, “find their seats first.”
For a split second, Diaval was confused. What did the soldier mean? Then it clicked. To the soldier, Diaval looked like a human. He silently cursed Maleficent for leaving him in this horrific state. “Actually, I’m a raven,” he said, trying to clear things up.
This time it was the soldier who looked confused. “A what?” he asked.
“A small black bird. About yea big,” Diaval said, moving his hands about eight inches apart.
The soldier shrugged, not sure what to think. But the line behind them was growing. Impatiently, he pushed Diaval over to stand with the humans and told him to wait. Then he turned back to the Moor folk and continued to usher them into the chapel.
“We should be seated first,” a nearby nobleman muttered. “I don’t understand. Why do we have to wait for them?”
As other humans voiced their displeasure with being told to wait, Diaval listened and watched. The bad feeling in his stomach worsened. Something was wrong. But what? Why were they separating the Moor folk from the humans? Taking advantage of the distraction, Diaval backed away and slipped out of sight.
He didn’t have wings to help him, but he still had his eyes and ears. He could use them to figure out the meaning of all this….
• • •
Aurora barely registered the fanfare outside her chamber walls. She didn’t hear the ringing bells or the small din created by the hundreds of guests who began arriving before the sun rose. It was her wedding day, and she was already exhausted.
She’d spent an almost sleepless night with Diaval’s words echoing in her head. What if Maleficent was not to blame for the king’s condition? If not Maleficent, who could have done such a thing? When she tried to stop thinking and closed her eyes, images of Maleficent flashed through her mind. When sleep finally came, her dreams were plagued by visions of horns and green magic and even greener eyes. She finally gave up on getting any rest and spent the remainder of the long night pacing her chambers, coming to one simple conclusion: something was wrong. She knew it. But she didn’t know what it was. Or what to do.
Now she stood staring at Queen Ingrith’s — or rather, her — wedding dress. It hung in front of her, the ornate patterns seeming to shift and change as the sun caught the beading through the window. Her eyes turned from that dress to the one she’d brought from the Moors. In contrast, it was simple, with no beading or jewels. Her fingers itched to put it on instead of Ingrith’s. Hearing a gentle knock at the door, she turned to see Phillip entering. She shook her head.
“I know, I know. It’s bad luck,” he said, reading her face. “But I had to see you.” He held out a flower.
Aurora was no longer listening. Her eyes were glued to the flower. Reaching out, she took it from him. Maleficent had taught her long before the great importance of the Tomb Blooms. They were never to be taken from the ground — or the Moors. “A Tomb Bloom? Where did you get it?” she asked.
He looked down at the flower and then back at her and shrugged. “It was a gift — from my mother.”
When Aurora did not say anything, Phillip gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head and turned to go, unaware that his fiancée’s brain was spinning. “The sun is up, Aurora. It’s our wedding day.” With those parting words, he left.
Aurora stood there for a long time once Phillip was gone, her fingers trembling as she held the sacred flower. There was no reason Ingrith should have a Tomb Bloom. It didn’t make sense.
Quickly, Aurora walked out of her room. She needed to find Ingrith. Perhaps the queen had a reasonable explanation for taking such a treasure from the Moors. But as Aurora walked, she couldn’t help worrying that this sinking, unsettling feeling had something to do with Ingrith herself.