“We wait,” Lianna said with no hint of humor.
“But you don’t have to,” the princess said gently. “It’s nice that you’re serving me, and I love you as a friend, but…do you want to do anything different?”
Lianna stared at her, wide black eyes unblinking.
“I am only here at all because of the grace of our loving queen,” she said flatly. “I am grateful for my continued existence.”
Aurora bit her lip. What she had mistaken for insensate following of orders was actually overwhelming gratitude. Lianna felt blessed that she was simply still alive; anything she did now was a joyful celebration of that.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said softly, taking her hand. “I didn’t mean to insult what you do. I just wanted to say…if you wanted to do anything different…marry someone, maybe…I don’t know…I’d miss your constant presence, but I completely encourage it.”
Lianna finally blinked.
“Th-thank you, Princess,” she said.
Then the moment was over and the quick, knowing smile returned. “For now, the princess must have her hair brushed and arranged by an expert. Sit.”
Aurora let herself be gently pushed onto her pink-cushioned chair. She looked into the hazy silver mirror as Lianna took her locks and brushed down, down, long strokes, over and over again until they shone.
“Your hair is so beautiful,” the handmaiden sighed. “Like spun gold.”
Even though she always said this, she said it with feeling every time. Aurora looked into the mirror and smiled. She was pretty. She was a royal princess. There was about to be a ball. These were things she could, once in a while, allow herself to be happy about.
EVERYONE IN THE Thorn Castle attended the monthly balls. Well, the peasants were in the secondary hall, and the servants were, of course, serving, but no one was left out. Everyone got wine, cider, food, salt, and a chance to hear the musicians play.
Long silk swags in every shade of blue hung from the walls and billowed out over the ceiling to suggest what the sky used to look like. Magical bronze fountains bubbled water that was tinted slightly blue for effect. Artificial streams ran down troughs in the middle of the great tables like—like actual streams once did, perhaps. Although they didn’t quite tinkle properly, as they did in Aurora’s dreams. The tables had been draped with old blue and green tapestries. Their pictures were blurred and gone; blue dishes and golden plates were arranged to cover them up so no one would see and grow uneasy. There were always golden plates at the feasts. It was the only thing Maleficent ever insisted on. Golden plates and golden domes over the food to keep it warm. Seeing them always made the queen smile, though she never said why.
Chandeliers and great pillar candles and torches in the walls all flickered with dancing blue flames thanks to Queen Maleficent’s magic.
The musicians played in the space in front of the three great tables, long blue streamers tied to their horns and mandolins. They sat in what looked very much like a broad wooden washtub, but which people who remembered insisted was a boat.
Even the minstrel was there—albeit with discreet golden chains holding him to the closest pillar and a guard standing nearby. He had apparently been allowed a furlough from his forced recuperation just for tonight. And though his eyes were red, bloodshot, and watery, he was picking his lute with the speed and skill he was renowned for. And acting otherwise completely like his normal self.
Aurora found herself heaving a sigh of relief—and disappointment. Guilty disappointment. She genuinely liked the minstrel and didn’t really want anything bad to happen to him…but with him playing and everything back to normal, it really did seem like what he had said about the Outside was nothing but the raving of a drunk. Everything would go on as it had before….
She forced her attention away from him and back to the revelers.
The nobles of the castle were dressed in brilliant blues: Prussian velvet doublets, cerulean linen skirts, periwinkle bodices, sapphire roundlets, cobalt capes, all swirling and undulating as people talked or danced or made their way around the room.
Aurora watched the scene from her vantage point next to the throne with a satisfied smile. On the royal dais, looking down at the entire room, she imagined she was also on a boat, watching waves crash against each other in dance after dance.
Maybe it really was like a sea.
Maleficent wore all black as usual, but with a nod to the theme of the festivities, she had changed her horned headpiece to a slightly iridescent blue and wore matching iridescent wristlets.
Aurora shifted her legs in a slightly unprincessy manner; her decorative bag hung heavier than usual. It was only when she looked down that she saw the uneven corners of the cards sticking out the top of her velvet pouch.
“Something the matter, my dear?” the queen drawled.
“No. It’s just…” Aurora fumbled with the bag and loosened its drawstrings. “I found these earlier. I was…I was going to ask you about them.”
As she handed the deck over, she wondered if that was strictly true. She had no hesitation in showing them now, but if she hadn’t been caught, would she have?
“Ahhhh.” Maleficent’s eyes widened for a moment, but the sound came out of her mouth long and quiet. Aurora had no idea how to interpret it. “This is how the world was before. Before your parents destroyed it. Behold: the sun. A unicorn. A lion. A rabbit. A deer…”
As the queen named each card, Aurora found herself mouthing the words she didn’t know after her, trying to remember.
“And so on. You shouldn’t look at these, dear. They will only make you sad. They are all gone from this world, never to return.”
Maleficent let the cards tumble from her fingers to the ground.
Aurora watched, tears springing to her eyes.
“Couldn’t you,” she whispered, “couldn’t you with your magic…?”
“There is no magic in the world powerful enough to bring back that which is truly dead and extinct. I’m so sorry, my dear. You should, sadly, put it completely out of your head. It can only cause you sorrow.”
Aurora nodded mutely, trying not to sniff.
Maleficent put a finger to her niece’s chin and gently forced her head up. “See? It is already ruining your fantastic party. It’s unfortunate you ever saw these.”
The princess took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. Through the blur of her unshed tears, the golden numbers on the cards gleamed and twinkled from the floor, refusing to be trash.
The queen also regarded the cards on the ground and began to tap on the edge of her throne with her long black fingernails.
“Where did you find these, anyway?” she asked casually.
Aurora shrugged. “They fell off my bookshelf. I never noticed them before. All of the other books are, you know, senseless or blank.”
“Of course they are,” the queen said, nodding, seeming relieved. “You must be careful, my Aurora. The Outside has ways of getting inside. My powers can stave off the physical attacks, the bigger monsters and obvious threats of invasion…but evil has a way of slipping in—through the cracks in your mind. Wishes are powerful and dangerous things. Do not wish for things that can never be.”
“Yes, Aunt Maleficent.” The woman’s words had been said as gently as possible, and there had only been the mildest tone of chastisement. Yet the princess was once again filled with shame at her ingratitude, her silly little-girlishness in wishing to see something that would never be again. Things that were long ago destroyed—by her own parents. And their evil wishes.