Aurora shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
Ingrith ignored her. “Our people became fearful. They overthrew my father, and the land fell into chaos. I was cast out — forced by fate into a marriage with King John of Ulstead, another weak king speaking of tolerance and civility.” By her sides, Ingrith’s hands clenched, turning even paler than normal. Her hard gaze landed once more on Aurora. “And now my own son corrupted by visions of harmony! But ‘peace’ will not be our downfall.”
The queen moved closer to Aurora, and Aurora instinctually stepped back. Smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, Ingrith composed herself. The spark of anger she had shown was gone. Once more, she was ice and stone. “I’m doing what the men before me could not do,” she said. “Because sometimes, it takes a woman’s touch.” Turning to go, she nodded at the soldiers. “Now lock her up. There is a war coming.”
Before Aurora could move, the soldiers were upon her. Grabbing her arms, they dragged her out of the lab. Behind her, she saw the faeries — her people — banging helplessly against the jars, trying to save their queen. And now she couldn’t do anything to save them, either. As the door to her chambers slammed and locked, Aurora looked out on the castle grounds far, far below. She was trapped.
And Ingrith was free, to destroy faerie kind — forever.
Oh, Maleficent, where are you? Aurora thought as she banged her fists uselessly on the locked door. It was pointless. No one would hear her cries for help. Ingrith had seen to that. Aurora angrily hit the door again. Why hadn’t Maleficent come back? Aurora couldn’t do this on her own. She couldn’t watch everyone she loved be destroyed, but without Maleficent, how could she stop Ingrith?
Her sobs echoed through the chamber as she gave in to her agony. The day that was supposed to be the happiest in her life, her wedding day, was now the worst.
Inside King John’s chambers, Phillip sat, staring at his father’s still body. The room was dark. Thick curtains had been pulled across the windows (by order of the queen), blocking all light and sound. In the shadowy gray, the huge trophy heads on the wall loomed larger and more frightening. They seemed to look down on the king, as if amused to see the man who had brought their lives to an end clinging now to his very own.
Phillip gingerly lifted his father’s hand and placed it in his own. It looked frail, the veins visible beneath his skin. All his years, Phillip had thought of his father as unstoppable. The king had taken such joy in life. In many ways, King John made up for Ingrith’s cold demeanor. He had been the bighearted parent. He had been present at every important moment of Phillip’s life — from his first steps, to the first time he rode a horse, to the day he came home with his first victory at battle. And now he was going to miss the most important one of all.
“All I want is for you to be here with me,” Phillip said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. He paused, as if by some miracle the man’s eyes might open and he might say, “Why, of course, Son. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” But the king remained silent.
Phillip would have to do this on his own. He rose to his feet. “I hope I make you proud,” he said. Then he turned and picked up the sword that was laid across a nearby table. Placing it in the scabbard, he moved to go.
Shaking his head, Phillip moved toward the door. It was foolish to play out impossible scenarios. It didn’t change the fact that he was about to get married without the presence of his father.
Chapter Fifteen
CONALL WAS DYING.
MALEFICENT HAD NOT MOVED FROM HIS SIDE SINCE THEY HAD PLACED HIM BESIDE THE GREAT TREE. SHE HAD REMAINED AS HE THRASHED IN PAIN, AS HIS BODY HAD FINALLY STILLED, AND EVEN NOW AS HE STRUGGLED TO BRING AIR INTO HIS CHEST.
Slowly, as the other fey formed a circle around them, Maleficent put her hand on Conall’s chest. She heard Borra’s low voice and the sound of footsteps as he and the other warriors moved outside the sacred chamber. She tried not to listen as they spoke, but her ears were too keen, their voices not quite soft enough.
“Conall wanted peace,” Borra was saying. Maleficent couldn’t see him, but she imagined his eyes were red with rage. “And they filled him with iron. Now we will have our war. Our fight begins now.”
As the others joined in his cry, Maleficent’s fingers tensed. This wasn’t what Conall would have wanted. Not even in his dying moments. He was kind, forgiving, willing to see another way. She knew that. But Maleficent was conflicted. She also knew that Borra wasn’t wrong. The humans were killing them. Should they stand idly by and let it happen?
“Today the human empire will fall!” Borra went on. “And we will show them no mercy!” As his cry faded, the sound of flapping wings filled the chamber. The warriors were leaving.
It was time to bring the fight to Ingrith and the humans.
Ingrith was pleased. At long last, after all her planning and plotting, she was going to exact her revenge against the faeries. All the obstacles were out of the way. Per her instructions, Aurora was locked in her chambers and the entire population of the Moors was, at that very moment, being locked inside the chapel. Thanks to Lickspittle, the Tomb Bloom powder was ready to be unleashed. Everything was perfect.
Even when Percival informed her that there was a group of Dark Fey approaching, Ingrith remained unbothered. Let them come. They would be no match for the red dust. Large fey or small faerie, the red dust would simply destroy.
From inside her tower, she heard organ music play. Her smile widened. She could see it now. Gerda must have taken her place at the large instrument that dominated the far wall of the chapel. Behind her, the faeries would have taken their seats, eager to see their queen walk down the aisle. But little did they know that this was the beginning of a massacre — not a wedding.
It had been her idea — and a brilliant one, she thought — to have Lickspittle’s red dust placed inside the large organ pipes. As Gerda began to play, the red dust — made from Tomb Blooms — would be pulled up through the pipes and then pumped out into the air, destroying every last one of those despicable creatures from the Moors.
As the music became more intense, Ingrith nodded with satisfaction. There was no escaping her trap now. She knew that the red dust had begun to drift down the aisles. She relished the notion that as the dust touched the faeries, they would start to transform, one by one, until there was nothing left but a chapel of inanimate remains.
The massacre was underway. Ingrith had done it. She had won.
Aurora pounded on the window of her chamber. She watched as the last of the faeries marched into the chapel far below. She saw the guards barricade the heavy doors, making it impossible for the faerie folk to leave. Once more, she slammed her fists against the glass, trying to get anyone’s attention. But it was in vain. No one could hear her. And the guards standing outside her door had been ordered to ignore her cries.
Her hands stilled on the glass as she dropped her forehead to the pane. Her eyes closed for a moment. When they opened, she gasped. She blinked rapidly, as if to clear her vision. But she wasn’t seeing things. There, soaring swiftly toward the castle, was a group of Dark Fey. Like Maleficent, they were glorious in flight. Their wings spanned nearly a dozen feet, and even from a distance, Aurora could see their strength. Hope flared in her chest. Could Maleficent be with them?