Unfortunately, other than the set of keys and the torch, they had gotten hold of nothing that might be considered a weapon. Nor did Phillip have any idea where they were. Somewhere on Count Alain’s lands, he guessed. That would account for a quantity of iron so great that a prison could be made of it.

He didn’t like to think of how long the prison had been there or who had been kept in it before they had.

The hall had several doors identical to the one they’d come from and a central area where a few chairs surrounded a table with dice scattered across it. Phillip used the set of keys to unlock two more doors, finding the cells empty. But opening a third revealed a boy, who leaped to his feet as they entered.

“P-Prince Phillip?” the boy asked.

He sounded frightened. Phillip supposed he might well be afraid. What reason did he have to think that Prince Phillip wasn’t in league with Count Alain? “Yes, and I mean you no harm. I’m going to let you out.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” the boy said gratefully. Then he noticed Maleficent. She had remained in the hall, probably wanting to stay as far from the iron as possible, but her horned shadow loomed large in the room. He blanched.

Phillip opened the door to the cell. “Who are you and how did you come to be here?”

“My name is Simon, my lord,” the boy said, emerging into the room. “I was a groom in the palace. I looked after your horse before, and I must say she’s quite a goer.”

Phillip smiled, a little amused. But he recognized the boy’s name, and he could see that Maleficent did, too. He was the one whose family thought that he’d been taken by the faeries.

Simon went on, following Phillip into the hall. “I was in the stables and I overheard a conversation between Lord Ortolan and Count Alain. It was about the queen and it wasn’t very nice. I thought I’d kept mum and they hadn’t noticed me there, but a day later, when I was headed for home, soldiers surrounded me, and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“We’ll get you out of this,” Phillip promised.

Maleficent knelt down in front of the boy. He looked panicky, and his fear only increased when she brought a fingernail beneath his chin. “Yes, child, we will help you, but not as you are. It’s too dangerous.”

“What do you—” the boy began.

“You can’t—” Phillip started, realizing the only meaning her words could have.

“Into a rodent.” Another wave of her hand and before them was a little mouse. He squeaked and made to run, but she lifted him by his tail.

“Here,” she said to Phillip. “Put him in your pocket. He probably likes you better anyway.”