“What a marvelous festival this is,” said Thistlewit. “Come and take a piece of cake with your favorite auntie.”

Prince Phillip had left Perceforest. She wouldn’t ever get to say farewell to him.

She sagged down onto the grass.

All around her the festival went on, but the sounds of it seemed to recede in her ears. She could think of only one thing—she loved Phillip. The very thing she had feared, the very thing she’d thought she was protected from, had happened.

She had looked for him in moments of distress, sought him out when she was in need of cheering up. She had laughed with him and told him her fears and hopes. And she had loved him all the while, not knowing that was love. But now she had lost him forever, for want of the courage to know her own heart.

Above her head, a raven circled, cawing to get her attention. Diaval landed in front of her, hopping and waving his wings.

“What is it?” she asked him, moving close and bending toward him. “Has something happened?”

A few people looked at her, thinking that it was very strange to see their queen expecting answers from a bird. She waited for him to become a man, but he didn’t change. He just kept hopping and dancing and squawking wildly.

A terrible dread filled her.

“Nod your head twice if Maleficent is in danger,” Aurora said.

Diaval bobbed his head twice.

“Take me,” Aurora said. “I’ll follow.”

Chapter 23

The raven spun up into the air, flying off toward the stables and then circling back, as though checking to be sure Aurora was heading in the right direction. The stables? Did Diaval intend for her to ride? How far could Maleficent be from the castle?

“My queen,” said Lord Ortolan, stepping into her path, “is something amiss?”

“Yes,” she said distractedly. “My godmother.”

Aurora spotted Nanny Stoat standing near one of the long tables where villagers sat to partake of the festival food. Near her was Hammond, the man caught poaching in her woods, and a girl she judged to be his daughter. The girl was about Aurora’s size, dressed in homespun and heavy boots. “I must help her.”

“Now?” Lord Ortolan asked, looking around in bafflement. “But this is your festival. Are you saying that the signing of the treaty must be delayed? Did something happen?”

The treaty. In her horror over the thought of Maleficent in danger, she’d almost forgotten. If they didn’t sign now—that night—would it seem as though someone had broken the peace? It came to her that perhaps foiling the treaty was the motive for whatever had happened. That thought only deepened her dread.

“Your pardon,” Aurora said to the girl in the homespun, thinking of Diaval’s leading her to the stables. “Would you be willing to trade your clothes for mine?”