Nearby, a black cat, who had once been something else entirely, was trying to climb a tree to get at a pigeon perched on the lowest branch. The cat scratched its way up the bark only to slide back down a moment later. The pigeon—the one Aurora called Burr—appeared entirely unconcerned.

“She was out riding,” said Diaval. “That boring old wiffle-waffle of an advisor was in Aurora’s ear.”

“What of the prince?” Maleficent asked.

“Riding with the men-at-arms, perhaps to evade several young ladies attempting to separate him from the herd.”

She began to pace again, her brow furrowing. “And the count who invited her?”

“As far as I can tell, they barely spoke a word to each other,” Diaval said.

“For now.” Maleficent pulled Aurora’s note from the folds of her gown and smoothed it out, perusing it once again.

Her gaze fell on the cat. Diaval had found it and persuaded Maleficent to bring it to the Moors, on the theory that it might not know how to do cat things very well yet. It seemed to her, from the way it watched him in raven form, that it was catching on perfectly well.

Her lip curled as her gaze went to the castle and her frustration mounted. “I mislike Aurora being so far away from us. Would it have been so terrible if she’d remained asleep for just a little bit longer?”

“Mistress,” said Diaval, genuine surprise on his face.

“Only a teensy bit,” Maleficent said with a pout. “Until she was twenty-five, perhaps.”

Diaval didn’t answer, but it was clear that he thought she had gone too far.

Maleficent gave a great sigh. “We will just have to make sure nothing happens to her. Now that the curse is broken, she can be protected and safe. Always.”

“Are you speaking of your, uh, flowers?” Diaval asked.

The blooms were coming along quite nicely, Maleficent thought. Every week the bushes gained a foot in height, the branches becoming denser, the stinging parts growing ever longer and sharper. Eventually, they would be the size of daggers, long enough to pierce a man’s heart. That would keep Perceforest safe, even if—according to her note—Aurora wasn’t convinced they were necessary.

Maleficent frowned. “If only she would terrify them, fill them with awe and fear. Humans love nothing that does not fill them with fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

She looked at him for a long moment, not sure she had heard him correctly. “And?”

“Oh, nothing,” he continued. “I suppose I’m not human.”

“No,” said Maleficent, placing her finger under his chin, her sharp nail pressing against his skin. “Nor, as you remind me regularly, would you want to be. Now, do you know what I expect of you?”

He raised a single brow. “One never can be entirely sure, mistress.”