Phillip hesitated, then forced himself to inhale slowly. The plant’s fronds shifted, releasing a cool, refreshing breath into his lungs. It was pure, concentrated oxygen. The plants had drawn in the carbon dioxide. He exhaled and transformed it into what he needed to breathe. The burn in his chest eased, the tension in his muscles unwound.
The plants shifted in tandem, wrapping gently around Phillip and Mal to pull them through the current. As they drifted underwater and away from the castle, the water grew warmer, the current softer, guiding them into the sanctuary of the Enchanted Forest.
Phillip’s gaze never left Mal. He drew her close. She came willingly, sliding into his arms like she belonged there. Because she did.
Words weren’t necessary—not that they could speak through the strange plants feeding them breath. Mal’s fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, her hold firm and reassuring. Both of them knew without saying that no force—no curse, no magic—would ever separate them again.
Aurora had tried to kill them both. Not just him—but Mal. The woman who held his heart, who had fought her way back to him after three long years of separation.
Aurora had tried to kill her. There was no explaining that away, no justification. The truth seared through him like a blade: Aurora wasn’t the victim in this story. She was the villain. Phillip had played the fool, blind to the danger she posed.
They surfaced with gasps. Water streamed down his face and burned in his lungs. Mal slipped from his arms and climbed out of the water with graceful ease. Droplets gleamed on her skin like moonlit jewels. Phillip followed, feeling the weight of his drenched clothes dragging against him, but nothing could slow the tempest brewing inside his chest.
As they reached the edge of the water, forest folk emerged from the shadows; sprites, dryads, and other creatures of the Enchanted Forest. It was clear they'd heard what had happened through the vines.
Mal stood tall, addressing her people with a voice as steady as steel. "Prepare yourselves. Aurora has shown her hand. She’s declared war on us. It’s time we fight back."
A knot of unease twisted in Phillip's gut as he stared at her. The fire in her eyes blazed bright and unrelenting. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the distant lights of the palace—his palace—glowing like a beacon against the night sky. The place that had once been his home now felt foreign.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mal wrapped her arms tightly around herself as a shiver coursed through her. The cold was from the dampness of her clothes after their impromptu plunge into the river. She raised a hand, summoning her magic. The ground at her feet stirred, roots and tendrils bursting through the soil like eager servants. They crawled up her legs, brushing her arms, and began pulling the water from her skin. The droplets glistened on the surface of the roots before sinking into the earth like greedy sips of nourishment.
She turned to Phillip. He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the looming castle in the distance. His broad shoulders were soaked, his tunic clinging to his chest. The roots obeyed her silent command, slithering toward him.
He didn't move. Didn't turn to her in thanks. His solemn gaze stayed fixed on the castle. His features were shadowed with sorrow, not rage.
The castle's silhouette rose against the darkening sky, jagged and foreboding. The sight ignited something hot in her chest. Anger. The thirst for retribution. Blood for blood.
“If you still think Aurora deserves your sympathy?—"
“No,” Phillip cut her off. “Aurora can’t come back from this. Not after what she tried to do to you. For that alone, she’s lost the right to my mercy.”
Mal’s anger didn’t fade, but his words softened the sharpest edges of it. “Then what’s that look for?”
“The majority of my troops are still at the borderlands. The men behind those castle walls aren’t mine—they’re hers. It’s her army we’ll face. They outnumber the forest folk.”
“They do not. We have every blade of grass on our side. The trees, the roots, the very ground beneath their feet will rise up against them.”
Phillip reached out, brushing a hand against her shoulder. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her, but not from the cold this time. “Mal, they’re men like me. Some of them don’t know what they’re fighting for. They’re just following orders.”
“And if we don’t fight back? If we show mercy to those who would trample the forest and destroy everything we stand for?”
"This goes beyond taking a stand. This is war. Wars have casualties—your people... my people. This isn't what our parents planned. This isn't what either of us wanted."
There he was wrong. Many nights during the dark three years of his absence, Mal had wanted nothing but to watch the castle burn. She hadn't taken a care of who might be within the walls. She just knew Phillip wasn't within them.
"Whether we want it or not, Aurora will send those soldiers to this forest and burn it to the ground. I won’t sit back and watch her destroy everything I hold dear."
The moon had barely crested over the horizon, casting a cold, gray light over the forest as Mal and Phillip stood on the ridge overlooking the clearing where Aurora’s machines lay dormant. She could already see the dark shapes of soldiers marching toward the metal beasts, their swords and armor glinting inthe moonlight. More were coming, their numbers stretching far back, a steady line of shadows in the distance.
"Let me try and talk to them, soldier to soldier."
“They’ll listen to her first. They’re loyal to her, not to you.”
“They’re still human,” Phillip replied. “Maybe—maybe there’s a chance I can appeal to that part of them.”
Mal took a breath, forcing herself to hold her tongue. Her prince was driven by a hope she no longer shared, a faith she had lost long ago. The men before them had crossed into the forest without regard, marching with machines meant to tear down the trees and flora she’d spent her life protecting. These men, they were not her allies. Even if Phillip couldn’t see that, she could.
