“Don’t do this for me, Godmother,” Aurora pleaded, but Maleficent turned her gaze away. It was too easy for her to believe that Count Alain might alter his plans to include Aurora’s death in them. She cursed herself for worrying more about Aurora’s heart than about her head.

She looked out into the darkness and wished she hadn’t sent Phillip away. She’d thought it was safer for him to go—and it had been. She just hadn’t been concerned about the danger to her. She’d thought that she could terrify Lord Ortolan into confessing to Aurora back at the palace.

And yes, she’d supposed that it was possible for Alain to show up while she was doing it. In fact, she’d rather hoped he would. She would have liked to present them both to Aurora, begging to tell her their evil schemes, all tied up in a bow.

She’d never expected Aurora to come herself.

Willful. Hadn’t she said that was the girl’s trouble? As for Diaval, when she found him, she was going to pluck every feather from his body. How could he be so foolish as to lead Aurora here, straight into danger?

Maleficent hissed as the iron touched her. Lord Ortolan only grinned at her like a beast baring his teeth as he clasped the iron manacles on her wrists. His pleasure as he turned the heavy key was evident.

She hoped that there would be bruises on his throat from her hands. But even that was small comfort.

Count Alain said, “Here’s what we will do, dear Aurora. You will become my bride—”

“I will not!” Aurora spat. “You can’t possibly believe I would ever consent.”

The count smiled mirthlessly. “Oh, I rather think you will. You see, I am going to keep your godmother here to guarantee your good behavior. You will marry me and you will be my loyal queen—or this wicked faerie you love so much will pay for your every rebellion, no matter how small. This is not what I would have chosen, Aurora, but as I think of it, perhaps this is better. You might never love me, but you will never betray me, either.”

Aurora struggled in Count Alain’s arms. Maleficent had seldom felt so helpless—and, with her wings returned to her, had thought she’d never feel so helpless again.

She wanted to tell Aurora to refuse him, but then what? He had them both in his power. Better for Aurora to tell him what he wanted to hear and survive. Back at the palace, she could order that his head be chopped off.

“I will marry you,” Aurora said finally, “but only if you let Maleficent go. My godmother will promise to stay in the Moors and not interfere with us, and I will promise to be docile and good.”

“Impossible,” Maleficent snapped reflexively.

Aurora frowned at her.