Phillip’s breathing was tense as he stood there, frozen. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it. His mother’s betrayal. Her utter indifference to all the lives — human and faerie — that were ending.
His mother’s insane desire was to destroy the Moors and every creature in them. No, he thought once more. His mother no longer made sense to him. Nor was she his family any longer, he realized. Family didn’t hurt and destroy one another. Family didn’t lie and betray. Ingrith had stopped being his mother the moment she chose her vendetta over him and his father. His family was Aurora. Her happiness was his happiness. Her future was his future. And he would fight to his last breath to save both.
Percival’s screams snapped Phillip back to the moment. Slowly, Phillip lifted his sword high above his head and stepped forward. He knew what he had to do. It was what he should have done long before. Distracted, Borra didn’t notice Phillip as he walked over. He didn’t notice him until Phillip pressed the tip of his sword to the Dark Fey’s neck. Instantly, his flesh began to burn.
“Step away,” Phillip ordered.
“Do it,” Borra said, pressing his neck into the blade, impervious to the pain.
Percival looked up, surprise written all over his face. “Phillip,” he started, “we’re under attack!”
But Phillip shook his head. “This is not my fight,” he said. “The queen wanted this war and you are giving it to her.”
On the ground, Percival looked up at him, as if seeing Phillip for the first time. Phillip nodded at his friend. For too long he had been a silent witness to his mother’s cruelty. He was done letting her ruin all that he found good. Once more, he turned and addressed Borra. “I will not allow her hate to ruin my kingdom or yours. I will have no fey blood on my hands.” His words spoken, Phillip dropped the sword. It landed on the ground, bounced once, and then was still. In the fading light, the blade sparkled.
For a long, tense moment, the two men and one Dark Fey were still. Phillip kept his gaze locked on Borra as behind them a blast of magic shook the air. Finally, the fey gave the slightest of nods. He had come to kill Phillip, but now, begrudgingly, he found he could not. But that didn’t mean others couldn’t. With a flap of his mighty wings, he lifted into the air and flew toward the other Dark Fey.
Phillip sank to his knees. The breath he had been holding rushed out of him. He knelt there, his head down as he tried to regain his composure. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw Percival standing, his hand outstretched.
“My prince,” Percival said.
Taking his hand, Phillip got to his feet. Percival didn’t need to say more. His eyes said enough. The doubt he had had was gone. In its place were faith and trust. Percival, like Phillip, now knew the truth about Ingrith. And together, they were going to stop her. Once and for all.
Chapter Eighteen
MALEFICENT HEARD THE SCREAMS OF TERROR FROM THE SOLDIERS BELOW. SHE FELT THEIR FEAR AS SHE SENT WAVE AFTER WAVE OF MAGIC TO THE GROUND. SHE SMELLED THE FIRES THAT HAD BEGUN TO BURN THE GROUNDS OF CASTLE ULSTEAD. And it made her feel strong.
But there was another part of her, smaller and not as loud, that protested her reckless destruction. It sounded a lot like Conall, begging her to stop and think of what she was doing and who she was hurting.
She pushed that part down. It would do her no good when she finally found Ingrith. She needed rage to defeat the queen. Spotting a soldier out in the open, Maleficent dove and lifted him to her. As they hung in the air, the human’s legs flailing helplessly, she glared at him. “Where is she?” she snarled.
Shaking, the soldier pointed toward one of the two huge towers that dominated Castle Ulstead. The queen’s tower. Of course. Maleficent should have known the queen would be there, high above it all, watching everything unfold from where she thought she was safe.
But she wasn’t safe. Not any longer.
Dropping the soldier, Maleficent flew straight up the side of the tower. Fury burned in her eyes as she arrived at the top and spotted Queen Ingrith. The woman was standing in the center of the tower, arms at her sides, her face a mask of cold calm despite the chaos below. Soldiers guarded her, lining the edges, their weapons at the ready. Two huge catapults — armed with barrels of red dust — were aimed directly at Maleficent.
Maleficent wasn’t afraid of the red dust or the death it would bring — so long as she could get to Ingrith first. Hovering in the air, she stared down the vile queen. Wind whipped at her dress and her hair, which had come loose, giving her a wilder, more evil look. What had filled the woman with such hate? Maleficent wondered. It occurred to her, in a rather unappealing way, that she and the queen had that in common, at least. The hate. And the need for revenge. The only difference was Maleficent hadn’t started this war. Ingrith had.
Dropping down to the opposite side of the tower, Maleficent kept her gaze locked on the queen. Two soldiers stepped between them. But with a swipe of her finger, Maleficent blew them aside. Now it was just the two of them.
Maleficent had had plenty of time in the Nest to think about the dinner and all that had transpired since then. She knew that Ingrith had used Maleficent’s temper and reputation against her. The part that irked Maleficent was that she had let her vulnerability show. Her love for Aurora had weakened her. The thought made her anger stronger, and she lifted a hand, ready to strike Ingrith down with a wave of magic.
But the queen’s words stopped her. “Killing me would be so easy,” she said, gesturing to Maleficent’s raised arm. “A wave of your hand and you get your revenge. Your kind is more predictable than humans.”
In response, Maleficent’s fangs flashed and her hand rose up. But a voice stopped her.
“Maleficent! No!”
Turning, Maleficent saw Aurora race out onto the tower. Her face was covered in dirt, her dress torn, but her eyes were as strong — and kind — as ever. Watching the pair, Ingrith smiled cruelly. “Well, almost as predictable.”
Ignoring the cold woman, Aurora rushed over and put herself firmly between Maleficent and Ingrith. “I tried to make you be something you are not,” she said softly, her eyes locked on Maleficent’s.
Up close, Maleficent could now see pain in Aurora’s eyes, too, as she begged for forgiveness.
“I’m forever sorry for that. But I know who you are and I know there is another way,” Aurora said.
Maleficent raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “You do not know me,” she said. You doubted me. You trusted her over me, she almost added. But she bit back the bitter words. Conall’s calm, kind voice echoed in her head, fighting with her own anger, weakening it. Hope, Conall had told her. She and Aurora had given him hope. He had believed in the power of Maleficent’s love for Aurora over all things and he had ultimately sacrificed himself so they could be reunited. Could she let him die in vain?
Aurora, seeing the hesitation in Maleficent’s eyes, slowly reached out her hand. “I do know you,” she said. “You’re my mother.”
Maleficent’s head snapped up. Her eyes locked on Aurora. Mother. The word echoed in her head, bouncing off moments and memories of Aurora as a baby, a young girl, and a young woman, happy and smiling. Aurora, reaching out and gently holding Maleficent’s horn in her chubby hand. And then the word shifted, transformed, bouncing off newer memories. Memories of seeing the young fey learning to fly. She had spent so long believing she was a monster that she had almost failed to understand why Conall had put his faith in her. She wasn’t the beast Ingrith said she was. She was a mother. A friend. A companion.