By that afternoon, Aurora had grown nervous. As she had hoped, many tradespeople and farmers had been willing to take the small payment she’d offered to make up for a day’s work, and were busily eating from the spread of cold meats, bread, and pies she’d provided. She was pleased to see that Hammond, the farmer who had been poaching in her forest, had come, although he stayed at the back of the crowd.

She knew she had to stand up in front of them.

She knew she had to listen to them, even if she didn’t like what they had to say.

But if she didn’t find a way for the faeries of the Moors and the humans of Perceforest to think of themselves as no longer at war, it wouldn’t be long before someone did something so terrible that they were back at each other’s throats again—this time permanently.

Aurora walked into the great hall and went to her throne. Gone were the winged gold lions that had once been there; her new one was simple and elegant, cut from a block of marble. As she sat, a hush fell over the villagers. She saw their gazes go to the crown shining on her brow.

“People of Perceforest,” she said, “you may know me as the daughter of Queen Leila and King Stefan, but remember that I was raised by my aunties and my godmother, faeries one and all.”

She saw the surprise on their faces and wasn’t sure if they hadn’t believed the tales or were merely astonished to hear Aurora herself confirm them. “Now I am not just your queen, but theirs. The queen of the Moors. And I want all of my subjects to come together. For decades, there has been enmity between the humans and the faeries. Why?”

For a moment there was only silence in that echoing hall.

Then a man stood. “We keep clear of the Moors. Those faeries steal your children, sure as anything.”

Aurora saw some grim nodding in the crowd and heard a few murmurs of the missing groom’s name. She wanted to tell them what she’d learned from Smiling John, but they had no reason to believe her, at least until Simon was found.

A townswoman with dark skin and green eyes stood up. Aurora recognized her as a worker from the buttery. “They lead you around in circles,” she said. “So you can’t find your way home even on your own land.”

“Or put you under a curse,” said a young girl with red cheeks and an abundance of curls. As she spoke, she was looking at Aurora as though she expected her to well understand the dangers of being around faeries.