A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback! I'm glad to hear that you seem to enjoy where this story is going! Some things:

If you like my writing and regularly concern yourself with minutiae, I reworked the first chapter a bit. No significant changes, just some phrasing edits and more fluid descriptions.

If you like my writing and a canon-compliant Briar Rose/Aurora character piece sounds appealing to you, please feel free to read "The Trouble with Destiny."

If you like my writing and would like me to write something for a prompt, feel free to PM me! I'm a little bit ahead in Prisoner and I have a bizarre amount of free time right now.

I hope you're having a happy holiday season! Again, your readership and feedback are always very much appreciated!

Chapter 11 – The Mail

Joy,

How is next Monday? I'm bringing Kinsale. I can't deal with her alone.

Zenovia

Joy chuckled. She thought she might rather enjoy the combination of Kinsale attempting to make pleasant conversation while Zenovia looked at her as though she wanted to rip out her larynx.

She folded the letter into a fun little shape, tossed it into the air, and shot a spell at it which shredded it. She then dissolved the pieces into streams of water. Her response was a simple "Fine" and she did not sign it. Dealing with Zenovia almost guaranteed that one's mail would be tracked.

Around the time she finished reading and destroying the last piece of her daily mail, she heard a knock upon her door, and she felt a small rush of fear. She'd been receiving an awful lot of unexpected visitors lately, all of them relatively harmless. Each time, she wondered when her caller would come bearing chains.

Joy was really not expecting to see Fauna again. Not that it was necessarily an unwelcome surprise, but she wasn't certain how to proceed. As such, she went to the door and answered it.

"Hello, Fauna," she said simply. It always struck Joy how small the Eastern Fairies were—Joy was not a particularly tall or imposing fairy, herself, but she positively dwarfed Fauna and her sisters.

Fauna's eyes widened in shock. "You remember me?"

"Even if I hadn't," said Joy with a smirk, "you giving me the eye all through your last visit would have given me pause. Won't you come in, O Mistress of Secrecy?"

"Thank you," said Fauna carefully as she followed Joy inside.

Joy offered her a seat and a cup of tea. "So!" she said. "What brings you here? It is rather dangerous, after all."

Fauna gazed nervously at her tea. "I think there's going to be a war."

Joy chuckled. "Do you really?"

Fauna looked up, eyes wide once more, not unlike a doe. "Yes, I do! Actually, I sort of assumed you would know…I mean, with Felicity coming here and making those threats, and—"

"Fauna, I am well aware that there is going to be a war," Joy interjected flatly. "If that's all you came to say, you're about fifty years too late."

"Oh," Fauna replied. "All right, then." She thought for a moment, and once again directed her speech to her untouched cup of tea. "Mistress Joy, you owe me nothing, and I owe you quite a lot… And really, I don't even know what I'm asking. It's that…" Fauna looked up again, eyes shimmering with tears. In so many ways, she was still that young girl on the beach. "There's going to be a war and I fear I'm on the wrong side."

Joy raised an eyebrow. "I see. And what do you intend to do about that?"

"I…I have no idea," said Fauna, her shoulders sagging. "I wondered if you might know…if there were anything I could do…to help?"

Joy took a leisurely sip of her own tea before she responded. "Suppose you're a spy?"

"I hadn't considered…" Fauna murmured, averting her eyes. "But of course you have no reason to believe me."

"For example, how did you get away without your sisters' knowledge?" Fauna was not a spy. Joy had never been more certain of anything in her life, simply because Fauna would make a terrible spy. Still, it was curious that Fauna had made it out from under the collective thumb of Flora and Merryweather.

"King Stefan sent a summons…it's…" Fauna bit her lip for a second before she continued to speak. "We went to visit Felicity in search of Maleficent and Princess Aurora. Flora thought that we could assemble a small force of allies to take Maleficent down for good and rescue the princess. Once we learned how serious it was that Maleficent had escaped the Chains of Avasina, our plans sort of…changed," she sighed. She took her first sip of tea before she continued.

"The King wanted an update on our intended mission—and of course I can't blame him! Not a moment goes by when I don't worry about her—where she is, if she's still alive, still with Maleficent, what Maleficent could possibly want…and they seem to have forgotten…well, nevermind that. The King also wanted one of us to serve as Counsel. Apparently he's going ahead with the merger with the Northern Kingdom, princess or no... I awoke a few days ago to find that my sisters had left me alone…I assume to have some sort of meeting they didn't want me to be a part of…and so I answered the summons and…I left."

"You didn't realize that Maleficent escaping her Chains was serious?" Joy asked, incredulous.

"Well, I…" Fauna looked up. "To be honest, I…I sort of wanted to ask you about that. I think…I wonder if perhaps the Chains worked. Maleficent is awfully clever, and Rose…I mean, the Princess…she's very kind-hearted. She could never bear the thought of anyone getting hurt, even someone who meant her harm. Do you…do you think it's possible that we've blown this out of proportion?"

Because, according to Joy's information, that was precisely what had happened, she was faced with a decision: should she tell Fauna the truth or perpetuate the lie?

It was possible that what she said made little difference. The lie had most likely already reached Sara by now—there was no stopping it, and if Fauna were by some off-chance actually a spy, revealing Maleficent's relative weakness would do her no favours. If Fauna was telling the truth, however, that meant that she had been holding onto this conviction for almost a year, despite what Joy could only imagine would be vehement protestation from everyone around her. If Fauna was telling the truth and Joy responded with a lie, it would only serve to isolate the emotionally fragile good fairy, and it might end up driving her back to the other side. A good fairy on their side, no matter how relatively powerless, could prove invaluable in the near future.

Joy took a deep breath. "Well, as they say, my dear," she said as she cast a binding spell upon Fauna's wings, then her feet, and then finally her wrists, "I would tell you the answer, but then I'd have to kill you."

Fauna gazed back at Joy with unsurprised resignation. Joy almost pitied her, really, and she rather disliked the sensation.

"As far as I'm aware, Maleficent convinced the princess to set her free with no access to her magical powers. She is highly intelligent and a very talented sorceress—perhaps near equal in power to Zenovia of the Mountainlands, but it's highly unlikely she could best all of the Mountainland Good Fairies in combat at once."

Joy led Fauna to another room—a study which she seldom used—and fortified her binding spells.

"Nothing personal, Fauna—one simply can't be too careful these days," said Joy. "A good fairy caught a wicked fairy up in the Northern Desert who had been masquerading as a human and had her dragged off to who-knows-where within the week." Were she being completely honest, she would have admitted that she thought a similar fate awaited her when Fauna knocked at her door.

"Oh, and the princess is just fine, to the best of my knowledge. She may run into some trouble soon enough, but if memory serves, she saved Maleficent's life. That's a debt Maleficent is likely to honour for as long as she's able."

Fauna nodded silently.

Messing with Fauna, Joy had already determined, was absolutely no fun. It was a bit like kicking a puppy, and so she did not dissemble any further. "As soon as I can get a hold of some Truth Serum and verify your story, I'll let you go—sound fair?"

Fauna brightened, "Truth Serum?"

"Fairy up in the Northern Desert brews it."

She smiled, "Oh, good. I thought there would be no way to prove myself…"

Joy returned her smile semi-genuinely and then left her to write to Makeda in the Northen Desert. Boring and slightly unsettling though this encounter had been, she was glad to hear that Fauna was probably telling the truth and that Joy might treat her as an ally. Still, she would be stupid to take a risk now. Something perhaps slightly more pressing than mere paranoia told Joy that the next time someone came knocking at her door, it wouldn't be to offer help.

Kinsale,

Meet me at Joy's next Monday. If you can, tell Maleficent that Sara knows. Don't do it by mail—might be tracked.

Zenovia

Kinsale loved mail. She very much hated that she had to destroy the correspondences she had been receiving lately. She knew so many delightfully interesting people and she lamented the loss of valuable letters to and from them which might later contribute to her writings about them, particularly if she should survive the coming war. As such, she was very careful to commit every word to memory before she destroyed a letter. If she had time, once the letter was gone, she traced the words in the air that she might remember them better.

Unfortunately, she had no time at the moment. In addition to her letter from Zenovia, she had received one from Maleficent. Maleficent was in the mood to talk, and that sort of mood did not strike her very often. Kinsale wanted to use this window of opportunity to get to the bottom of whatever it was that Maleficent was doing, or, if she was not doing anything, what in Hell's name was the matter with her.

Kinsale checked to see that Aurora was sleeping soundly, then she transported herself to the castle in the Dragon Country. The door wasn't even locked.

Maleficent sat in one of the armchairs in her mother's ballroom, posture perfect, expression neutral, but still managing to look a complete mess. She wasn't wearing her horned headdress, and her black hair fell frizzy and tangled over her shoulders and down into her lap. Her complexion was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. In a way, she looked like she had when she was young—lost and frightened. This was the way Maleficent had looked when Kinsale first met her.

"She's going to get hurt," Maleficent said to the opposing wall. "It's not going to be my fault."

"I know," Kinsale replied even though she hadn't known. She had only hoped, for the girl's sake. "How are you holding up?"

"Hmm," Maleficent murmured as she considered Kinsale's question. Kinsale took the liberty of sitting in the chair opposite hers. Maleficent did not seem to notice. "You know, when I was Chained, I entertained the possibility that I might die."

Kinsale's heart sank and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"If nothing else," Maleficent continued, "my wounds would have killed me. But that was only for a day, at most. As soon as the princess showed up, I knew I could make her save me."

Kinsale saw what Aurora meant: Maleficent's eyes, normally alert, shining, and hyper-vigilant, were dull and empty. Maleficent had scarcely moved since Kinsale's arrival. She merely stared right past Kinsale and spoke monotonously, barely above a whisper.

"But now I've known it for…I don't know, weeks? It seems it's been forever. Joy told me about the misunderstanding with the Chains and I thought, 'I am going to die.' I can't see any alternative. I've decided I shan't foolishly try to defend myself against whatever it is Sara sends when she learns of my great escape. It's possible that I could defeat the Mountainland Fairies with some luck, but then she'd send the Force after me. What would be the point? There's no sense in dooming my entire race. I think perhaps it will be better if I go down easily. Sara will be proven very publicly wrong, and perhaps the Queen will find out about it. Perhaps Sara will meet her downfall."

Kinsale, who could bear no more of walking on eggshells, took a seat beside Maleficent, wrapped her arms around her, and lay her head on that rigid, bony shoulder. Maleficent flinched, but she did not pull away.

"In that case, I shall be glad to die," said Maleficent. From this close, Kinsale heard the hoarseness in her voice. "I trust you'll do your best to ensure that this scheme of mine comes to fruition."

Maleficent waited patiently for Kinsale's response, still staring blankly at nothing. At last, when a tear fell onto the fabric of Maleficent's black dress, Maleficent turned her head in an attempt to look at her. She slid one of her arms out of Kinsale's grasp and placed it awkwardly on Kinsale's back. "Why are you upset?" she asked, genuine confusion in her voice. "You're going to be all right now. Sara will want to use me as an example. If the example is a massive failure, she'll be brought to justice. No one else will have to die."

"Maleficent, I…" Kinsale whispered into her hair, but she could not find the words. They sat in silence for a few moments, Kinsale trying desperately to gather her thoughts, and Maleficent awkwardly attempting to comfort Kinsale on the matter of her own impending surrender.

"I can't do it, Maleficent," Kinsale said at last, eyes still steadfastly downcast. "I can't make plans that will result in your death. There's got to be another way."

"If you can find one, be my guest," Maleficent responded. "But I see no way around it. If I reveal my weakness, I die. If I don't, everyone dies. Until then, I sit here like a rat trapped in a hole, hiding, endangering my friends, and making no contribution." She sighed and adjusted so that she could look Kinsale in the eyes. Kinsale could hardly bear the sight. "There's no one else in this world I could possibly trust with this task, Kinsale." She averted her eyes, and her lips curled up into a small, mirthless smile. "Or any task besides, it seems. I expect she is well?"

There was something very selfish which Kinsale found particularly heartbreaking about Maleficent's question. She knew that this was not the time to bring it up, but there might never be another. "I know I should find it flattering—an honour, even—that you trust me the way you do…and of course you have no reason to believe that I can't take care of myself…" wistfully, she traced a finger down the sharp line of Maleficent's face, "but I admit I'll always wonder how it must feel to be so completely protected by someone like you."

Maleficent frowned, perplexed. "I imagine it would be terrifying," she said earnestly.

Kinsale smiled sadly. "Aurora is well. I'm glad to hear that you didn't mean her any harm. It was what I wanted to believe, and it's what she wants to believe, as well. I don't think she'll be too happy to hear that you plan to sacrifice yourself."

Maleficent's expression abruptly turned dark. "I don't suppose you're planning to tell her. She is very kind-hearted—she saved me once before when she had no reason to do so. If she were to try such a thing again, I would not be able to return the favour."

"So that's it?" Kinsale asked, genuinely surprised. "Aren't you even going to see her again?"

Maleficent let out something like a strangled chuckle. "Don't you think I've done enough damage there?" she asked, and she seemed perhaps a bit less indifferent on the matter than she would ever concede. "I went to the trouble of frightening her away so that she wouldn't want to see me again."

Kinsale shook her head. "She misses you terribly." And she isn't the only one.

Maleficent's eyes flickered up, and for an instant, Kinsale saw in them a spark of the real Maleficent, the one who hadn't resigned herself to death. "In spite of everything?"

"In spite of everything," Kinsale nodded.

Kinsale could clearly see and hear Maleficent swallow. "All the more reason I shouldn't see her," Maleficent replied firmly. "I might change my mind."

"I suppose there's nothing else I can say that would do the trick," Kinsale replied. It wasn't really a question, and Maleficent knew it. She didn't respond.

"Well," said Kinsale as she stood, "I won't lie to you: I hope you do change your mind." She smoothed the hair from Maleficent's face. "I'm going to meet with Joy and Zenovia on Monday next. I'll tell you what we discuss, but it's likely that Zenovia is being tracked, so it wouldn't be safe for you to come. She told me to let you know that Sara has heard about you."

Something very subtle changed in Maleficent's face. Kinsale could not quite pinpoint what it was, but it seemed somehow that the last remaining flicker of hope burning in her eyes had been extinguished with Kinsale's words. "Please tell Joy and Zenovia I send my regards."

Kinsale looked away until she had a handle on the tears stinging in her eyes, then regarded Maleficent once more. "I haven't given up, Maleficent."

Maleficent smiled warmly, "And you envy my protection."

Kinsale touched Maleficent's face once more, then turned to depart.

"Kinsale?"

Kinsale stopped, but she did not turn around or respond, for she had already begun to weep.

"Are there any dragons left in the world?"

Kinsale swallowed. "Only in the Mountainlands, I think. Why?"

"The young dragon hidden in the caves nearby—I…could you see to it that he finds his kin, after all of this is over?"

Kinsale covered her mouth to stifle another sob. She did not respond. Maleficent knew what her response would be, anyway.

Briar Rose had found staying with Mistress Kinsale to be an immensely refreshing experience.

First of all, there was no question as to whether it was safe to go outside. Aurora did not find the high stone walls to be confining in the least. She saw the sky, she saw the grass, the flowers, the small pond which was home to large, colourful fish, and she saw the walls as her protectors. She was safe and permitted to be out of doors.

Second, Kinsale was a much gentler and less demanding teacher than Maleficent. Rose still had the nagging sensation that her skills would be ineffectual under any sort of duress, but at least now she had some skills to speak of. Kinsale was never threatening, she was endlessly patient, and she did not seem to harbor any dark secrets. Everything about her life was always open for discussion. Under Kinsale's gentle instruction, Rose's magical ability positively flourished. She felt she had learned more in the past few weeks than she had in her months of solitude.

Kinsale had also offered to help her with her reading, and this, too, became monumentally more enjoyable under Kinsale's tutelage. Rose's absolute favourite method of practice was to look at the words of a book while Kinsale told her the story aloud, usually almost exactly as it was written on the page. This was the way she had reached the end of the tale of Mistress Acacia.

"And because Sara had been given permission to destroy Mistress Cordelia, the Fairy Queen Titania did not bother to send her Counsel down to Earth to look into the matter of Cordelia's daughter. As it happened, Mistress Joy was dealing with her own personal tragedy at that time. If she hadn't been preoccupied, she would have—"

"Her own personal tragedy?" Rose had interrupted.

"She had a very complicated relationship with Terra the Good Fairy at that time—they had bitter fights whenever they tried to speak to one another," Kinsale explained.

"That reminds me—in the Biography of Mistress Joy, you mentioned how miserable Terra was after Joy left with her father. I suppose I don't quite understand their relationship."

Kinsale looked vaguely troubled, "That's a bit of a long story. Shall we finish Acacia and then delve into Joy and Terra next time?"

Rose nodded, "All right."

So perhaps Kinsale was not quite an open book. There were two topics on which she was mysteriously silent: the missing piece of Mistress Joy's story and something about the way that she and Maleficent had met. Rose supposed that no harm could come of confronting her about these things—she had merely been surprised to learn that Kinsale did indeed have a secret or two.

Rose was still immensely conflicted on the subject of Maleficent. Even though her most recent memory of Maleficent was still freshly terrifying, it was no longer thus because of Maleficent's role in it. Rose knew, not only because she had been told, but because she felt it in every fibre of her being…she knew that there was going to be a war. There was almost no chance that she would escape this situation without running into some kind of danger. Initially, she had wanted to learn magic so that she could defend herself against such danger; however, she had so far been afforded—albeit involuntarily—two opportunities to test her new skills: once by a wicked fairy who, while intimidating, probably didn't actually intend to harm her, and the other time by a good fairy around her own height, which implied that Rose's limited magical ability might have been enough to suffice. Both times, Rose had completely frozen in fear.

In a strange way, Maleficent had merely pointed out a huge problem that Rose needed to fix: she could not perform magic when it would actually do her any good.

As if Rose's thoughts didn't offer her enough fodder for vexation, Rose could not help but miss Maleficent desperately. She hadn't even seen Maleficent much in the last few months she spent in Maleficent's childhood home, and yet she had always felt her presence everywhere. She had felt it when Maleficent left her books to read and food to eat, and when Maleficent had checked in on her to find her awake, she had known that Maleficent checked in on her when she was asleep, too. Rose had never quite realized the way her life revolved around Maleficent until her presence was no longer a viable option, and this left Rose feeling just slightly empty inside.

On the bright side, Kinsale was (to say the least) much chattier than Maleficent, and she seemed just as starved for companionship as Rose was. As such, Rose found herself with very little time for sitting and thinking, something of which she had had an excess in Maleficent's home. This, too, was a welcome respite. Rose's thoughts had a habit of getting away from her, and it was rather nice not to think too deeply about the things that troubled her at the moment. She supposed she'd have to think about them eventually, but she was admittedly avoiding this for as long as possible.

Kinsale returned home that night looking decidedly melancholy. Rose realized with a sort of bizarre eagerness that there would be no harm in asking her what was troubling her. Rose conjured up two cups of tea (the only kind she knew how to make was plain old black tea, though she sometimes managed to summon a sugar cube) and went downstairs to meet Kinsale at the door.

Kinsale gazed at her as though she had seen a ghost, then abruptly wiped her expression clean of all of her sadness and smiled. "Good evening, Aurora. Oh, you made tea? How thoughtful!"

Rose had never bothered to tell Kinsale that she didn't feel like Aurora was her name. She couldn't pinpoint why exactly, but she thought that perhaps she simply wanted to be someone else for a little while. "Where have you been today?" she asked conversationally.

"Oh, here and there," said Kinsale. She took a sip of her tea. Rose followed suit and nearly choked—it was so bitter! Kinsale's expression did not even change as she continued to drink the stuff. "I ordered a book you might like—it's an account of Cordelia's downfall by a good fairy named Esther."

Rose smiled, "That does sound interesting."

"Mistress Joy says it's 'good fairy drivel,' but I think it's useful to read a variety of perspectives."

Good fairy drivel. Rose felt once more the keen sensation of missing Maleficent, yet she was loath to ask Kinsale about her. "I meant to nag you about finishing Mistress Joy's story."

Kinsale laughed, the sound a bit strained. "Ah, yes. You know, I was almost Chained for publishing that book."

"Really?" Rose gasped. "Why?"

Kinsale nodded, "When I wrote it, Joy was still Queen's Counsel. I suppose that's part of it. I had to edit it six times before the Force was satisfied."

"What did you have to edit, exactly?" Rose prodded, again feeling that she was missing a huge part of the puzzle.

"Her relationship with Terra," Kinsale responded, a hint of hesitation still lingering in her voice. "I know it must seem tame to you, reading it now, but at the time, it didn't matter how much I left out because everyone knew."

"Knew what?" Rose cried, throwing her arms out in frustration. Kinsale looked at her, startled.

"That they were lovers," she replied softly. She seemed almost surprised, as though she thought Rose ought to have guessed.

"They were…" Rose echoed, trying to wrap her head around the information. The idea, that Joy and her controversial female friend, the good fairy Terra, had been lovers struck Rose in a way she could not quite comprehend. The notion had never occurred to her before, that two women could be lovers, and yet now that Kinsale said it, she didn't know why it was so unfathomable. It certainly made Joy's story fall together more clearly. Joy's relationship with Terra had seemed so strangely intense to Rose—it didn't really make sense between platonic friends. Joy ran away with her father and a band of male wicked fairies without telling Terra, Terra was devastated…Joy gave the go ahead for Cordelia's damnation, but not Acacia's, because she was dealing with her complicated relationship with Terra…

They were lovers.

"It's really a pity that I wasn't allowed to write it the way that it happened. They had such different pasts, such different ideas about life and love, family, magic…everything, really. But at the same time, they completed each other in a strange way. It was quite beautiful. And they found peace in the end, before Terra was put to death."

"Put to death?" Rose's eyes snapped up to meet Kinsale's, which were carefully studying her reaction.

"Terra spoke in favour of Acacia in the trial," Kinsale replied. "It was a last-minute decision, made as a sort of plea to Joy that she was trying to understand, to reach her. Almost everyone who spoke in favour of Acacia was put to death when the decision was reached."

Rose felt tears welling in her eyes, and she could not find words to respond.

"It's often said that wicked fairies are incapable of understanding love, at least in the way that good fairies and humans do," Kinsale continued, and Rose suddenly saw every single one of those three hundred and ninety-four years in her eyes. "I don't think that's true. I just…I think it takes us a little longer. And usually we aren't afforded that kind of time."

Rose had become conditioned not to reach out and touch people without warning, but she realized while she was fighting the urge that Kinsale would not mind. She reached out and squeezed Kinsale's arm. Kinsale smiled and covered Rose's hand with her own.

"May I ask you something else?"

Kinsale nodded, "Of course."

"What happened when you and Maleficent met?"

Kinsale regarded her uncertainly, "Perhaps another time? I fear I keep feeding you surprising information."

Rose wanted very much to agree to wait. For one thing, every time she heard or saw or felt something that reminded her of Maleficent, she missed her former protector terribly. For another, she had a strange feeling that she knew the answer to the question she had posed, and she wasn't entirely certain that she was ready to hear it aloud, for reasons which were a bit murky to her and which she did not particularly want to examine too closely just yet.

"Another time," she agreed.

In response, Kinsale reached out and cupped Rose's face in her hands, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead before rising to clear the tea. "Oh, I'm sorry…you haven't even started yours."

Rose gave an exasperated sigh, but she could physically feel the conversation lighten, "How could you even drink that? It was awful!"

Kinsale chuckled, "It wasn't that bad."

"So you admit it was bad," Rose countered, raising one eyebrow.

Kinsale gave her a strange look, somehow amused and melancholy at the same time. "In these desperate times, I think it might be more beneficial to work on your defensive magic than on your tea-making skills. I appreciated the thought."

Rose sighed, defeated. "You seemed troubled when you arrived," she said. "Is something the matter?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," she said, waving the teacups away. "War brewing and all. I'm going to meet with Mistresses Joy and Zenovia on Monday to hear their theories about how Mistress Sara will proceed."

"How is that?"

The troubled look returned to Kinsale's eyes. "For years, she seems to have been moving slowly, gathering resources. It's picked up a bit, though, which means she's planning something. It's likely she'll begin with her inquisition technique, going door to door and demanding information. If we can rally the likely targets before Sara gets to them, we'll throw her off, and as an added bonus, we'll have a larger force than we did before. That's my job: to find every wicked fairy I can and bring them here."

Aurora frowned. "How are you going to do that?"

"Oh, that's the fun part," Kinsale said with a mischievous smile which did not quite reach her eyes. "We're going to throw a party!"

Mistress Sara,

I believe your letter was delivered in error. You seem to have mistaken me for one of your weak-minded lackeys. There's no need for a formal apology; I shall use it for fire kindling in my next Satanic ritual.

Warmest regards,

Mistress Zenovia

Sara smiled to herself as she ripped the letter into tiny pieces, envisioning Zenovia's limbs, instead. She reached into mid-air with her left hand and rang an invisible bell. One of her servants appeared instantly.

"Bring Zalia to me, please." The servant nodded and disappeared. Not a few seconds later, she reappeared with the youngest of the Desert Land Good Fairies in tow.

"Good afternoon, Zalia," said Sara.

Zalia curtseyed. "Good afternoon, Your Excellency." She had the same vibrant green eyes which likened her to the rest of her family, but Zalia was a bit less grounded than her older sisters, and she sometimes had a bit of a crazed look about her.

"Thank you very much for your information regarding the whereabouts of the Eastern Princess. Would you mind doing me a favour?"

"Of course not, Your Excellency," Zalia replied, curtseying again.

"Go to Mistress Felicity in the Hill Kingdom and retrieve the Eastern Good Fairies. I'm given to understand that they have taken up residence there. Take them to Mistress Kinsale's home on Monday morning and wait for her to leave—she'll be on her way to a meeting. Do you have that?"

Nod, curtsey.

"She has a very good security system, but, like all wicked fairy inventions, it is only designed to protect her. If she isn't home to answer the alarm, you can get over the wall, disable the forcefield, and break the door locks if necessary, all with little difficulty. Your objective is to retrieve the Princess Aurora alive and in one piece, but it's of no interest to me what else you choose to do while you're there."

"Take these," she said, conjuring a set of heavy chains and directing them into Zalia's hands. "The princess has been in the company of at least two powerful wicked fairies, and you mentioned that they seemed to treat her with some superficial kindness—it's possible she won't understand that you mean to help her and will put up a fight. Even if she appears to go with you willingly, keep her in these, just in case. One can never be too cautious. Understood?"

Nod, curtsey.

"Excellent," Sara smiled. "Finally, you are to leave this note for Mistress Kinsale to find. Send word to me when the princess has been safely returned to the Eastern Kingdom. If you are successful, I assure you that you will be handsomely rewarded."

Nod. "Yes, Your Excellency." Curtsey. "Thank you, Your Excellency."

"You're dismissed," Sara said by way of response.

Fortunately, Sara had been prepared for Zenovia's non-cooperation. One could never rely on wicked fairies for anything, and Zenovia was the only wicked fairy Maleficent might trust with whom Sara had a working relationship. Maleficent was a difficult fairy to lure into a trap, and Sara respected that. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sara was aware of Maleficent's friendship with Kinsale, who was by all accounts a much more agreeable wicked fairy than either Maleficent or Zenovia. Thus, while Zalia's complaint regarding Kinsale's recent behavior came as a bit of a surprise, Kinsale could not have chosen a more opportune time to be disagreeable. Sara could return the princess to her kingdom, allow Zalia her revenge against Kinsale, frighten Kinsale and her precious little alarm system, and lure Maleficent into a very public confrontation—all in one fell swoop!

When Zalia and the Eastern Good Fairies retrieved Princess Aurora, she would leave the following note behind:

Please inform Maleficent that if she wants her pretty plaything back, she'll have to ask Mother. If she doesn't know where to find me, here's a clue.

She had forced Maleficent's mother, Adara, to sign the letter this morning, just in case Zenovia decided not to pay her former pupil a persuasive visit.

Adara came from a long line of very powerful fairies, some of whom were rumoured to be shapeshifters. She was a skilled sorceress and an incredible fighter particularly because she was rash and unpredictable, renowned for being creative in the cruelest of ways. She mated with a man about a hundred and fifty years ago and had three daughters, all of whom she managed not to kill during their infancy. Those children must have led a terrifying existence, knowing full well that their mother would come after them when they reached maturity.

None of the literature on the family had any information on what happened when the children were in their teens, only that the two oldest children were dead, the youngest one was alive, and Adara disappeared without a trace.

That is to say, she disappeared until a few months ago when, Sara had it on first-hand authority, it turned out she had been masquerading as a human of all things for over a century. Adara now resided in Sara's dungeon. A rather impressive first, if she did say so, in her intended collection of formerly powerful evil-doers.

Regardless of how much Maleficent cared about what happened to the Eastern Princess, Sara had little doubt that Maleficent despised her mother if her childhood was anything like what Sara envisioned. Now that Maleficent had become so calamitously powerful, she would doubtless be positively famished for revenge. She would come after Adara, and when she did, she would meet her demise one way or another. No mere wicked sprite would overpower Sara.