Aurora sighed. “The humans are afraid. They told me stories about stolen children and curses. Are any of those true?”

There were a few murmurs from around the glen. Diaval gave Robin a knowing look. The little faerie frowned. “Sometimes we come upon a child in the woods, unwanted and uncared for. Infants, even. We might take that child and raise it here in the Moors. Who can blame us for that? And sometimes we find a child who would be better off in the Moors. We might take that child, too.”

Aurora couldn’t dispute that some children weren’t cared for and that some parents weren’t kind. But she also knew that faeries might not agree with humans about which children would be better off stolen from their families.

“Sometimes,” Aurora allowed. “But what about the other times? And what about the curses?”

“We can’t deny that we have cursed humans,” said Robin. “We are a tricksy people, and the humans have given us plenty of cause. Do they not hunt us? Do they not try to trick us out of our own magic and steal what is ours? We are the ones who should be afraid. They want all we have and all we are—and they want us dead.”

“I am a human and I adore you,” Aurora said, kissing Robin on top of his head and making him blush. “I have heard stories that humans and faeries weren’t always at odds, that there was a time before King Henry when you lived with mutual respect.”

There was some mumbling and some reluctant nodding.

“For the humans that was a very long time ago,” Aurora went on, “but it can’t be so long for all of you.”

“Once, it was different,” the water faerie said grudgingly. “Then, if they wanted my rocks, they would trade for them.”

“And their children would play with us,” said one of the wallerbogs.

“And they would leave us treats,” said one of the hedgehog faeries. “And we would leave them presents in return.”

“Yes!” said Aurora. “And it can be like that again. I know it can. That’s why we’re going to have a festival. Games and dancing and feasting, with humans and faeries in attendance. And the treaty, finished and ready to be signed.”

The Fair Folk blinked at her with their inhuman eyes. There were a few murmurs around the glen.

“Please,” she said. “Please come.”

Maleficent swept into the clearing, holding a black cat in her arms. It butted its head against her dark gown. Her long nails swept down its spine, making it purr loudly. “Oh, my dear,” she said, “nothing could keep us away.”