Chapter Fourteen
AURORA WAS GLAD, FOR ONCE, FOR THE COMMOTION THE WEDDING WAS CAUSING. WITH EVERYONE BUSY PREPARING FOR THE EVENT, SHE WAS ABLE TO SLIP THROUGH THE HALLS OF THE CASTLE UNNOTICED. She made her way to the queen’s room and knocked. When no one answered, she carefully opened the door and slid inside.
The room was dark and silent. Ingrith must have already dressed and left. Slowly, Aurora wandered around the room, looking. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for — a pile of Tomb Blooms, a diary detailing Ingrith’s thoughts…Whatever it was, she didn’t see it. So she moved farther into the room, entering the huge closet. The life-size dress forms stood in front of her, looking ominous in the dim light.
Suddenly, a loud whisper filled the room. Aurora’s eyes widened as the tip of her finger began to ache. Looking down, she saw that her scar, the physical reminder of when she had pricked her finger and fallen under Maleficent’s curse, was bright red.
What was happening?
The whisper in her head got louder as she walked closer to the dress forms. It was a sound both familiar and foreign. Closing her eyes, she allowed the whisper to pull her forward, past the dress forms and against the back wall of the closet. The dress form nearest her fell with a thud as she pushed the wall. The whisper got louder, more frantic. She pushed harder until she heard a click. Then a secret door opened, revealing a hidden staircase.
Finger throbbing and head full of whispers, Aurora moved through the door and down the steps. She felt as though her body was being controlled by something — or someone — else. It was as though she were a puppet, with her feet moved up and down by invisible strings. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the whisper grew still louder. Now it was almost a scream. The noise blotted out everything else. She didn’t even notice the jars full of faeries or the small man standing near them, shouting at her.
All she could hear was the whisper; all she could feel was her scar, pulling her forward. Moving through the lab, she didn’t stop until she was in the middle of an alcove. And there, in front of her, its spindle gleaming wickedly in the light from a dozen candles, was the spinning wheel.
The whispers stopped.
The trance broken, Aurora looked down at the spinning wheel. Carefully, she reached out and pulled it from the small dark room. In the brighter light of the lab, the spinning wheel reflected Aurora’s astonished expression.
Why was the spinning wheel here…in Castle Ulstead?
And then, in a flash, Aurora understood.
She saw the fateful dinner. She heard Ingrith taunting Maleficent, goading her to anger as she talked about Aurora’s moving to Ulstead and becoming the daughter Ingrith had never had. She felt Maleficent’s anger and watched as magic began to pool around the Dark Fey, causing Ingrith to cling to her husband in fear.
But now she saw the truth, too. Ingrith felt no fear. She had no desire to make Aurora a part of her life. Those were just words to anger Maleficent so that Ingrith could carry out her plan. And she had done it brilliantly. No one thought to look closely as the queen cowered beside her husband, her face pale and her hands shaking. No one thought to check whether her long sleeves hid anything suspect. And no one noticed that at the very same moment King John winced in pain, the tip of the spindle flashed brightly before disappearing into Ingrith’s sleeve once more.
Everyone was focused on Maleficent, her green magic, the terrifying stories about her, and the mistake she had made years earlier.
It had been the perfect misdirection.
And Aurora, just like everyone else, had fallen for it, hook, line, and spindle. As the images faded from her mind, Aurora let out a cry of anguish and dropped to her knees. Grief overwhelmed her. She had begged Maleficent to fix King John when the Dark Fey had been innocent. She had turned her back on Maleficent, just like her father, King Stefan, had done years earlier. She had proven to Maleficent that humans were exactly as she thought — cold, cruel, and fickle.
What had she done?
No. What had Ingrith made her do?
Something powerful cut through Aurora’s anger. It was resolve. With renewed focus, Aurora looked up to find Lickspittle running toward her, waving his arms and yelling at her to get out. Her eyes narrowed as she finally took in her surroundings.
What was this place?
She saw rows of jars behind the small man. And in each jar was a faerie. “Stolen faeries!” she said in shock. Then she looked back at the man and her confusion grew. “And you — you’re a pixie!”
The man sneered. “How dare you call me such a thing!”
Ignoring his protests, Aurora reached out and lifted the back of his shirt. Two parallel scars ran down the length of his back, a reminder of his wings. “They’ve taken your wings,” Aurora said, horrified. It was one of the worst things a human could do to a faerie. Yet this pixie seemed to be working for Ingrith. “What’s your name, pixie?”
“It’s…Lickspittle,” the man finally said. “And I am no pixie. I am a nobleman!”
Aurora felt strangely sorry for the creature. The queen had taken his wings, kept him prisoner down here. And yet he continued to work for her, betraying his own kind to do so. She had to wonder, why?
As if reading her thoughts, Lickspittle continued. “She promised me — when every last faerie is gone, I am free to go.”
“Gone?” She repeated the word, which felt like poison on her tongue. “But we have to release them!” She inched closer, holding out her hand. Her eyes pleaded with him as she gestured to all the other faeries, trapped in jars. They didn’t deserve this. “They belong to the Moors.”
“As do you, Aurora….”
Ingrith’s voice was unmistakable. Aurora turned and watched as Ingrith stepped into the dim light. Her eyes were as cold as her voice as she continued to speak. “A human. Who has betrayed her own kind.” Behind Ingrith were two heavily armed soldiers, their hands resting on swords, and crossbows fastened on their backs.
“You!” Aurora said. “You put the curse on the king.”
If she had expected a weepy confession and admission of great and terrible guilt, she did not get it.
“He served his purpose,” the queen replied coldly.
“How could you?” Aurora gasped. An image of the king, his body motionless on his bed while Phillip stood grieving beside him, flashed through her mind. She looked over at the icy woman in disbelief.
Ingrith ignored the look. Instead, she moved through the room, her fingers trailing over the jars and lingering on a bubbling vial. “You may be queen, but you are very young. Ruling humans is a bit more complicated than running around barefoot with flowers in your hair.”
Aurora opened her mouth to protest but a sharp look from Ingrith silenced her.
The queen went on. Her voice grew deeper as she told Aurora her story. “When I was young, my family’s kingdom bordered the Moors. One particularly harsh winter, our crops died and the people began to suffer the same fate. As we looked across our walls, we could see the faeries thriving.” At the mention of the creatures, Ingrith’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “My brother and I believed we should take what we needed — deserved — while my father, the king, sought their kindness. Choosing peace over our people, he sent my brother to do his bidding.” She paused in front of a jar. Inside, the trapped faerie frantically backed away. But it had nowhere to go. Ingrith smiled cruelly and went on. “Those savages — creatures who could barely grunt let alone engage in talks — killed him.”