"Ah. It seems some curses burrow deeper than the oldest roots," Doran said, tilting his head with a thoughtful expression.
"Curse?"
Doran gave him that tree-wizened look, the kind that hinted at answers Phillip wasn’t ready to hear.
"Come," Doran said, gesturing toward the village beyond the tree. "Now that you've returned, let us not waste what time we have."
CHAPTER FIVE
"Stop right there!"
Mal ignored the command and continued on through the castle gates. Her boots slammed against the stone floor, each step echoing with purpose. Clanging swords and armor announced the guards’ approach as they rushed to block her path. Mal didn’t slow.
Magic thrummed beneath her skin. She felt the live elements of the earth beneath her feet like a storm on the verge of quaking the castle's foundations. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned the forest to her aid. Vines erupted from the ground, slithering through cracks in the stone walls, wrapping around the guards' legs and pulling them off balance. Decaying flowers sprang back to life and stems unfurled, their crinkling petals puffing ashen pollen into the air.
The guards staggered, coughing and sneezing as the plants' spores overwhelmed them. One by one, their weapons clattered to the ground, useless at their feet.
Mal didn’t spare them a second glance. She marched forward, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. She rounded a corner and spotted her.
Aurora.
The princess sat at the far end of the table in the council's chambers. Mal knew this room well. She'd been here many times as her mother and the old king had their discussions. She and Phillip would play under the tables, telling each other tales. When they were older, they sat side by side with Phillip whispering in her ear of the depraved things he would do to her once he got her alone.
Aurora sat in the spot that Mal had once occupied. Phillip's seat was empty.
More guards appeared behind her. Their swords were drawn. They blocked her way out. Mal had no intention of leaving until she had spoken her piece… or preferably punched the princess in her pretty pert nose.
Vines twisted beneath her skin, eager to be unleashed, to coil around these men and cast them aside like fallen leaves. Before she could summon them, Aurora’s voice drifted through the air—soft and sweet, like the petals of a rose hiding a venomous thorn.
"Let her pass."
The guards hesitated, glancing between Mal and their princess. Aurora's sweet smile was all kindly reassurance. Slowly, reluctantly, the guards lowered their weapons. They kept them pointed in Mal’s direction, as if they believed her to be as dangerous as a wildfire.
Mal ignored them. Her gaze locked on Aurora. She moved forward like a predator, her pulse hammering in her ears as she cornered her prey.
The council members, who had been gathered in quiet murmurs around the large table, froze as the tension thickened in the room. Their eyes darted between the poised guards and the dark figure of Maleficent. As if a silent signal passed among them, they began to scurry out like frightened mice abandoning a burning barn.
Robes rustled, chairs scraped against the stone floor, and the metallic clink of a dropped quill echoed briefly before someone kicked it aside in their haste to get out. One council member, an older man with a trembling hand, cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as Mal’s horns caught the dim light of the room. His lips moved as if in silent prayer before he followed the others out. By the time the doors shut behind the last of them, the room was empty save for the guards, Aurora, and Mal.
There she was—her nemesis. Just as beautiful as the day Phillip had introduced them as children. Aurora’s skin gleamed like polished porcelain. Her eyes were the pale blue of a morning sky. Golden hair framed her face in perfect waves. Her lips curved into a smile so demure it could have belonged to a saint. She looked like a dream, a vision crafted from sunlight and silk.
Mal had seen past that façade the moment they’d met. Aurora was no fresh bloom—she was a poison. The kind of flower that sprouted bright and lovely, its scent intoxicating, lulling folk into a false sense of safety. But beneath those petals lay a deadly toxin, waiting for the right moment to seep into the veins of the unsuspecting and stop their heart. The royal damsel was all polished surface, concealing the rot within.
"You've finally decided to show up and do your duty, Guardian."
Mal stepped closer, closing the distance until only a breath of air separated them. Her magic simmered just beneath her skin, ready to lash out the moment Aurora made a move. The scent of lavender lingered in the air between them—Aurora’s perfume, as soft and cloying as her voice. It reminded Mal of something Phillip had once said about Aurora, that she smelled like spring. At the time, Mal had laughed bitterly, thinking how fitting it was that something so lovely could also be so fleeting and dangerous.
"Why are you doing this?"
"What am I doing, dear?"
As soon as Mal asked her question, she realized she didn't care about Aurora's answer. What made the rage inside her go from simmer to boil was the use of that word. The others would hear the polite princess use an endearment. Mal knew that Aurora called her deer as an insult.
"I'm doing what Phillip wanted. He wanted peace between our kinds. He bade me to protect the forest before he…" And there she trailed off, her fingers fluttering through the air along with the unfinished sentence.
But that was just it. Mal didn't know what had happened to Phillip. One day he was there, and the next day he wasn't.
"Iam ensuring Phillip's wishes are followed." Aurora pressed a dainty hand to the place on her chest where a heart should lie. Mal swore she heard a thump echo from the empty cavern.
