And she knew that this was no enchanted sleep. This was death.

She leaned down. Some of her hair fell over his cheek and throat. Were he alive, it might have tickled him.

Taking a quick breath, she brushed her mouth against his cold, soft lips.

Then, sitting up, she prepared herself to take one last look at him. But when she gazed down, he no longer had the same appearance as before. His lips were no longer bluish, but the pink of the inside of a shell. And as she watched, his skin took on a flush of warmth.

Then, impossibly, Phillip’s eyes opened, and he sucked in an unsteady breath.

“Aurora,” he said, grabbing her shoulder hard enough that it hurt, “run. He’s right behind you. Run!”

Chapter 28

No torch burned in the prison. No oil lamp flickered. No window showed the stars. Phillip wasn’t even sure it was night anymore. It was hard to calculate anything in complete darkness. Instead, he sat against the cold metal wall and tried to think.

His side still pained him, but it was a dull pain now, not like the burn of the wound during the ride, when his head had been covered and his hands bound. Then he’d known he was still bleeding and hadn’t been sure how much, only that he could feel the wetness in the way his shirt stuck to him. He’d been passing into and out of consciousness, mostly from shock. And then there had been the brief moment when the bag was pulled off his head in the prison and he’d seen the horror of Maleficent sprawled on the iron floor, her skin burning like she was a piece of meat thrown onto a hot pan.

A moment later, the torches were doused and he was plunged into endless night. He’d bitten at the ropes around his hands until he was free, and then crawled across the floor to Maleficent. He’d shucked off his doublet and pillowed her head on it, using a strip of the lining to bind his own wound. He’d counted to ten and twenty and one hundred, to try to calm his racing heart and focus.

Now that Maleficent was awake, he felt a little calmer. Still, they were in fresh trouble. Phillip had feared they would be killed as soon as they were taken, but something had stayed the hands of their captors. Now he suspected it was only that Lord Ortolan was waiting for Count Alain. Perhaps Lord Ortolan didn’t want to be the one to deliver the order. That way, Count Alain had no opportunity to frame him along with Phillip.

Neither he nor Maleficent had much time. Alain might be arriving any minute.