But then someone clasped her from behind and brought a rag to her face. There was a horrible sweet scent on it, the same smell that had wafted off the drink Stefan gave her on the single worst night of her life. She felt lightheaded with panic. She threw her head back, knocking her horns against the soldier behind her. They both crashed to the floor.

She crawled away from him, dragging the net with her. More arms grabbed her from behind, pushing her to the ground. The heady smell of poison intensified, and along with it came a vast dizziness.

She felt herself slipping. She looked up at Phillip just in time to see a soldier’s blade pierce his side.

Chapter 21

For most of his life, Diaval had been a raven. He’d lived in a community of perhaps several hundred on the outskirts of the Moors, roosting in trees, hunting for food, and jousting in the air to show his daring.

He’d been a good thief. He had stolen fruit from the orchards of humans, earthworms from the beaks of his brothers and sisters, and carrion from wolves. He remembered the thrill of it.

And he remembered the terror of being turned into a man. A farmer had been about to kill him. The transformation had saved his life, but he no longer felt as though his life was his own. Not only did he owe an impossible-to-repay debt to the faerie standing before him with the curving horns and cold eyes, but his whole self was changed.

He hated being human, but once he was, he knew emotions he hadn’t known before—regret and contempt, jealousy and empathy. And he had words, which changed how he saw everything, including himself.

Then she turned him into a horse, which was distasteful, but he couldn’t forget the power of that body. That changed him, too. His mind had been simpler than that of a raven, more driven by instinct. And his instinct had been to protect his mistress.

Then she turned him into a dragon, which was powerful beyond all things. It woke an ancient hunger in him and a rage big enough to devour the world—and half the beings in it. Ever after, even when he was a raven again, he couldn’t forget that feeling. He felt bigger than his skin.

But what changed Diaval most of all was being by Maleficent’s side. He’d learned to care for her and Aurora, whom he’d adored since she was a fledgling floundering around outside her nest. Though he’d begun his service in awe, he now stayed by Maleficent’s side because there was nowhere else he would rather be.

He thought of all that as he felt a wagon lurch around him. He’d been thrown into a burlap sack, as though he were some game bird caught during a hunt.