Technically, Aurora wasn't a queen. Not until she married Phillip. Which was never happening. But he was choosing his battles at the moment.
"I am the ruler of this land."
"The only thing ruling you is your cock. Consorting with an animal in the woods, a creature beneath your station.”
So that's what this was: bigotry, pure and simple. “You won't win against the Forest Folk and their magic."
"Think your female deer will come to save you?"
Phillip heard an E instead of an A in the endearment. He vaguely remembered Mal complaining about Aurora and vowels. He focused on reining in the urge to spit out the truth—how Aurora had cursed him and betrayed both their kingdoms. But he could see the hardened faces of the men and women around him. He knew those words would fall on deaf ears tonight. So instead, he chose a different truth.
“The forest is alive. It won’t be conquered, not by your machines, and certainly not by brute force. Those machinesyou’re so confident about? They’ll break down before they reach the heart of the Enchanted Forest. On foot, you’ll be met by the forest folk themselves. This isn’t a battlefield you can master. It’s a grave you’re digging for yourselves.”
The soldiers shifted uneasily. Some of them, anyway. The women soldiers stood fierce and unyielding, their grips on their weapons steady, while the men glanced at one another, the slivers of doubt taking root in their eyes.
Lord Queros lowered his sword, as though Phillip was no real threat. “If you think you know so much, then act as our commander. Tell us how to defeat the forest and its creatures. How to tame this land you claim to understand so well.”
Phillip held the man's gaze, his heart steadying as he allowed himself a moment of clarity, a reminder of why he was truly here. “The only way to defeat it is with love.”
A heavy silence followed his words, his voice echoing in the stillness of the camp. Then, as if on cue, the men and women erupted into laughter, their voices loud and mocking, disbelief written across their faces.
Phillip’s heart didn’t waver, not even as their laughter filled the air. He looked out at them, and a sadness settled over him. They would never see the forest as he did, never feel its pulse, its strength. They would never understand what it meant to protect something for the love of it, to defend it not with force but with loyalty and reverence.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Phillip was late. Again.
Mal clenched her fists. The bark of the tree trunk she leaned against dug into her palm as she fought the rising surge of anger—and worry—that gnawed at her. She knew Phillip wouldn’t break a promise lightly. Not unless he was bound and held against his will. It had happened before. Her mind whispered that it was happening again. She tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, clinging to her like a thorn she couldn’t pull free.
Mal crouched beneath the low-hanging boughs of an ancient yew. Her breath was steady. Her gaze was fixed on the distant glow of Aurora’s machines. The damp, rich scent of the forest floor surrounded her, mingling with the distasteful tang of iron in the air.
Iron came from the deepest heart of the earth, where the soil and stone had grown around it, keeping it buried and hidden from the living. Life had flourished atop that buried secret, the earth sheltering its denizens from the cold, unyielding material. Sometimes, iron came not from below but above, falling from the skies when stars burned themselves out. Their celestial remains landed like intruders on the soil.
Humans had learned to shape it into weapons—alien tools to wound and destroy. The former king, wise in his understanding of both humans and Forest Folk, had banished iron from Evermore long ago, forbidding its presence in the land of magic. Aurora, with her machines and her insatiable need for control, had brought it back. She wielded it like a blight, embedding it into her mechanical monstrosities and polluting the sacred balance of the forest.
Mal’s claws curled into the moss beneath her. The ancient earth pulsed beneath her palm, whispering its anger and unease. The forest stirred with her. Their rage intertwined, ready to fight back against the alien metal that sought to poison their sanctuary. Mal couldn’t wait any longer.
“Begin the strike.”
Dryads marched forward, calling up the roots of their ancestors. Tree roots shot up from the ground like writhing serpents, twisting around steel beams, prying open metal plates with relentless strength. The vines crept into the machinery, snaking through gears and circuits, spreading like veins under their guidance. The screech of tearing metal filled the air, mingling with the furious whirs and clanks of the sabotaged machines.
That was the first offensive. Had the humans not learned from their earlier encounter with Mal, the battle would have been over, the war won. Unfortunately, these weren't the dumbest of the lot.
A flank of soldiers moved in, weapons raised. Sprites darted through the trees, leaving trails of shimmering dust in their wake as they got into position. On the ground, the humans moved with confidence, expecting nothing more than resistance from the dryads and the trees. What they didn’t expect were the animals.
From the underbrush came the crashing sound as deer charged forward, their antlers lowered like natural lances. Bears emerged next, their powerful forms barreling through the human ranks with roars that sent chills down even the bravest spines. Wolves wove in and out of the fray, their sharp teeth and cunning eyes glinting as they drove the humans into disarray. Birds dived from above, their talons sharp as they clawed at helmets and unprotected faces. Even the smallest creatures played their part. Raccoons darted in to pull weapons from distracted hands, while squirrels leapt onto shoulders, clawing and biting with surprising ferocity.
Chaos erupted among the humans. Their tight formation unraveled in the face of the forest’s fury. Shouts of panic rang out. Swords clattered to the ground as men and women scrambled to defend themselves from the onslaught. It was then that the sprites and fairies struck.
Magic rippled through the air, unseen threads that coiled around wrists and ankles, binding the humans in place. Glittering nets of enchanted light descended upon clusters of soldiers, immobilizing them with unbreakable bonds. One by one, the humans fell to the ground, disarmed and helpless, as the fae encircled them.
Mal watched from the edge of the clearing. She felt no pity for the intruders, only a grim satisfaction as the forest claimed its justice. These humans had marched into her domain, swords drawn, without understanding that the land itself would rise against them. Victory was imminent. Yet her mind kept drifting, scanning the tree line, searching.
Where the hell was he?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Phillip tasted the stale air in the army tent. It was thick with the scent of sweat and smoke. His wrists were bound tightly behind him. The skin chafed against the coarse rope. The raw flesh stung with every shift. The ache in his shoulders grew sharper. But it was the sounds outside that held his focus.
