Where the Moors began, the landscape changed. Crystal pools of bright blue water washed around tall pillars of stone, and small rocky islets dotted lakes. The trees were wrapped in bright vines of vibrant green. And Aurora could see clouds of what appeared to be butterflies blow across the sky. Wallerbogs scuttled along the banks. Mushroom faeries peeped out at them from behind rocks while water faeries leaped from the depths, their glowing blue bodies shining in the sunlight.

Yes, this would be a perfect spot to bring her court.

“I wish we could leave the other riders and go swimming,” Prince Phillip remarked.

Aurora laughed. “Lord Ortolan’s heart would stop.”

“And we know Lady Fiora would faint,” he returned, “especially when I dunked you under a lily pad.”

Aurora shoved his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare dunk me!”

“You’re free to consider it an act of war from a neighboring kingdom,” he said.

She opened her mouth to give some reply when the words struck her. A neighboring kingdom. His kingdom.

“Phillip,” she began, “is it true—”

But before she could ask, shouts came from the men-at-arms. Phillip and Aurora shared a glance, and then both started back down the hill.

Halfway there, she spotted a raven wheeling through the air. A very familiar raven.

What was Diaval doing?

When she got to the bottom of the hill, she found her men-at-arms surrounding a large bush. Their weapons were drawn.

She thought of the missing boy, Simon. Could he have just gotten lost in the woods?

“Wait!” she cried, jumping down from her horse’s back. “Whatever you have trapped there, don’t hurt it.”

Phillip was beside her in an instant, his sword drawn.

“It’s no beast or faerie, Your Majesty,” said one of the men-at-arms with a smirk.

Another stuck a pole arm into the bush. A howl went up—a very human howl.

“Stop!” Aurora said. “That’s cruel.”

The soldiers looked rebellious, apparently unsure whether to obey. After a moment, they drew back from their quarry.

A man crawled out of the bushes, carrying a brace of rabbits close to his chest. He had a scraggly beard, and his ragged clothing hung on him. He looked around at the riding party, staring openmouthed at Aurora, then took off running.

Three soldiers chased him down, one tackling him into the dirt. Then the other two grabbed the man by his arms and forced him up to his knees.

“A poacher,” said Lord Ortolan with disgust. “Hunting on the queen’s lands, no less.”

Lady Fiora was huddled with a few of the other young women, their horses drawn into a knot. They looked a little frightened, and Aurora began to realize that they expected her to punish the man on the spot.

“Your Majesty,” he said, clutching the rabbits in his hands anxiously, “please. My family is hungry. The yield on our farm was poor this year and my wife is very sick.”