A/N: SORRY I take forever to update! Thank you all for sticking with me, particularly through my dreadful love for cliffhangers! Not sure how I feel about a few things in this chapter, not least the title, so we'll see how it sits with me in the next couple of days, but I'm very thrilled to have finally made some progress, so it's going out into the world as-is for now!
To those of you who've noticed or made note in reviews, I am aware that there are some continuity problems. Since I write the story serially, I'm sure they're much more obvious when reading straight through. For now, I'm moving forward so I have a framework before I do any major editing. Seriously, thank you all so much for your kind feedback, in the form of reviews, favourites, follows, messages, artwork, recommendations, and all manner of things! I can't tell you how much it warms my heart and excites me that people care about this nonsense I'm writing! Enjoy!
Chapter 25 — The Sorceress
Briar Rose's return to the Eastern Kingdom felt like a very strange dream. Perhaps the most peculiar thing about it was that Rose couldn't say whether it was a good dream or a bad dream. The only thing she felt with any degree of certainty was that it didn't seem real to her.
Time passed in a curious way. Rose felt simultaneously that the days seemed to drag on forever and that they flew by with a speed that was dizzying. The panic that had crept unnoticed into Rose's veins did not subside. She remained constantly on edge, prepared for battle. But with the good fairies preoccupied by war, the King and a large portion of his men off on a fruitless search for someone who'd already been found, Aunts Fauna and Merryweather who-knew-where, and Aunt Flora...
Well, for many weeks, no one really presented any challenge to Rose's newfound authority over herself.
"Rose?"
Rose's heartbeat lurched as it always did now, but she did her very best to remain perfectly still. She did not jump to respond, nor did she raise her head from the book she wasn't really reading. She focused her energy on the awkward consideration of what she ought to call the Queen. Mother seemed all wrong to her, but Your Majesty would hurt the Queen's feelings. At last, she settled upon a simple "Yes?"
"Would you like to come to dinner?"
No, was the immediate answer that came to mind, and also the answer she'd given everyone who'd come to ask for as long as she'd been here. Yet how long had it been since she'd sat at a table and had dinner? Tonight the idea seemed somehow lavish, despite the awkward company she'd likely have to endure.
"Who will be there?" she wondered.
The Queen hesitated. Rose noted how odd it was that someone should audibly gasp upon hesitation. Her previous company had scarcely ever hesitated, and when one of them had, it had been in stony silence.
"Only me."
Only...? Rose looked up at last to see what she'd already known was there: the Queen, hands clasped, eyes wrought with worry.
"Have you been dining alone all this time?" Rose asked aloud before she could think better of it.
The Queen averted her eyes.
"I'll come to dinner," Rose decided with a small nod, which was far more to herself than to the Queen. Honestly, she doubted she would make an even passable dinner companion. Countless matters swirled about senselessly in her mind, and though a part of her desperately needed to discuss them, she hadn't even the faintest idea of where to begin—let alone with the Queen as her partner in discussion.
Still, even the walk to the dining hall proved too long a silence for Rose, and she blurted out the first question that came to her mind. "Why did you send the King to the Mountainlands to search for me?"
She'd more or less gotten past dwelling on the way she'd been hunted like a wild animal. But all the stories and explanations she'd been given upon her arrival were brief, vague, and disjointed. King Stefan, Prince Philip, and a large search party had gone to the Mountainlands to search for Rose, while Queen Leah and Aunt Fauna had gone to the Western Woodlands. King Stefan hadn't been made aware of Fauna's plans.
Rose found it somewhat disconcerting that the Queen did not seem to understand the imminent danger into which she'd blindly sent both herself and her husband, but thus far, she'd said nothing on the subject. How could she explain?
The Queen hesitated for some time before she began to answer, but Rose was relieved that an actual answer, and not an admonishment for asking, was all that followed. "Mistress Fauna feared...well, not only that you wouldn't heed Stefan or Philip, but that their efforts might...drive you even further away from us."
Rose shook her head. "That I can understand. But the war of the fairies is..." the words caught in her throat and she swallowed uncomfortable. "They could be in terrible danger," she said after a moment's pause.
The Queen stopped walking and turned to look at her, eyes full of alarm. "But Mistress Fauna believed that the path she sent them on would lead them out of harm's way!" she insisted. "And at the time, the war hadn't even begun. She thought..."
"She thought they could avoid the war?" Rose cut her off. The notion was incredible to her. The war was everywhere! Inescapable!
The Queen flinched and her eyes flashed with pain. "Yes!" she cried.
They stood, staring at one another in tense silence for several minutes before the Queen finally backed down and continued on her path into the dining hall. As promised, there were but two places set at the far end of the table.
Sometime in the middle of the meal, when her rage began to cool, Rose realized that perhaps her idea of the war had been overly simplistic. The war was not here, after all. The war was not in the Dragon Country. Perhaps Fauna hadn't been so rash to send the King and his search party in the wrong direction. It had been in an attempt to reach out to Rose, and hadn't Rose longed for the chance to reconcile with her estranged aunts when death seemed imminent?
"Where is Aunt Fauna now?" Rose asked. She'd never dared to ask before, and no information was ever offered to her unless she asked.
The Queen stopped eating. It seemed Rose must be doomed to ask the least desirable questions this evening. Or more likely, no question was desirable. Rose remembered a time when she would have bowed her head in submission, apologized and muttered nevermind.
"I...don't know," said the Queen at last.
Rose frowned as it became clear that the Queen wished this to be the end of the discussion. "But you traveled together." She tried very hard to ignore the dread she felt somewhere in the region of her stomach. Please, no, she thought. Not Aunt Fauna, too. I can't bear to have lost...
"It's safe to assume she's...joined the war, I suppose," said the Queen.
"Safe to assume?" Rose echoed. She felt panic rising inside of her and struggled to keep it contained. "You traveled together. How could you not know? Did something happen to her?"
"Calm down, Aurora, please!"
Rose stood from the table abruptly. Her chair fell to the ground and she held out her hand to summon her staff.
The Queen, too, scrambled to her feet, but she was all trembling and apologies. "Rose!" she cried. "Rose, Rose! Please! Please calm down!"
Rose's staff flew into her hand. The Queen continued to apologize and the servants gasped in horror and fear and rushed out of the room.
"What became of Fauna?" Rose demanded as she drew her staff across her chest.
"Rose!"
"What became of her!"
"I told you, I don't know!" the Queen shrieked. "We were set upon by a group of good fairies and she told me to run, so I ran! I don't know what became of her. I don't know!"
Tears began to stream down the Queen's face, and the sight of them slowly brought Rose back to her senses. She lowered her staff and took several long, deep breaths. "Aunt Fauna didn't do anything against the good fairies, did she?" she wondered, more to herself than to the Queen. "They couldn't have taken her prisoner if she didn't act against them..."
"Rose..." the Queen began, but her voice shook. A part of Rose still found it odd that she could cause a queen's voice to shake. "Why do you speak of the good fairies as though they are monsters, or tyrants?"
"Tyranny is all I've seen of them," Rose replied coldly. She didn't want to speak of fairies or wars or tyranny or betrayal...
"Your aunts are among them, after all."
"My aunts..." Rose's throat ran dry and she leaned heavily upon her staff. From her aunts, she had known nothing but love and joy all the days of her youth. But of course they had also practiced their own brand of tyranny. She felt at once that she could not bear to face them and that she desperately needed to see them as soon as possible.
"My aunts have also been misguided," she continued at last. "And surely they would side with their own kind in a war. I only wonder if Aunt Fauna acted against the good fairies because I worry for her safety. Not because I...not because I mean to condemn her."
And she never meant to condemn Aunt Flora, either. Sometimes intention mattered little.
The Queen was silent for some time, and Rose very nearly turned to leave, but then the Queen spoke once more. "Fauna told me a bit about the wicked fairies during our travels," she said. "I also read about some of them. But it was a lot to take in, and it was all very confusing to me..." The Queen clasped her hands—this, Rose had observed, was how she tried to hide nervousness. "I don't suppose you would tell me more of them?"
Rose's immediate response was suspicion. "Why would you want to know of wicked fairies?"
"I—well—I wanted to..."
The Queen's attempt at an explanation was interrupted by a servant at the door of the dining hall. "I beg your pardon, Majesty, but the King's search party has returned."
Rose's grip upon her staff tightened. The Queen turned her head sharply from Rose to the servant and back again. "Thank you," she said to the servant while looking at Rose, and "I suppose we must go and greet them," she said to Rose, while looking at the servant.
As soon as Briar Rose entered the main hall, the murmuring voices of King Stefan's search party rose in volume like a swarm of angry insects, and as a unit they moved toward her. Rose could hear bits of phrases between them—"so worried"—"Princess Aurora"—"let's get you to"—"Prince Philip"—"don't you realize"—"poor little girl"—but long before she'd made out a full sentence, her survival instinct overtook her.
She brandished her staff, and with a whispered utterance knocked them all onto their backs and into an eerie, stunned silence. Two men were left standing, the two who had not approached her: King Stefan and Prince Philip.
"Aurora..."
"Don't come any closer," Rose responded. Though her heart was racing, her voice sounded cold, and more or less calm. She lifted her chin ever so slightly, and she realized as her eyes focused upon Philip that her magical prowess had caused her to grow taller.
It occurred to Rose that she hadn't any idea of how she looked now. She couldn't remember the last time she'd even had access to a mirror. She had consciously avoided looking into any of them upon her return to the Eastern Kingdom, and had removed the ones in her chosen room (a seldom-used guest room at the far end of the upstairs corridor) as quickly as possible.
"What has become of you?"
To her immense surprise, Rose nearly laughed. It was a curious feeling, for she was neither happy nor amused. While she considered her response, her eyes scanned the dozens of men who were still occupied pushing themselves up into a sitting position. What had become of her? She settled upon a small, mirthless smile and a shake of her head. "More than I could possibly say," she said quietly. "One might say I've reached my full potential."
Philip let out an incredulous scoff. "This is your full potential?" he wondered with a wild gesture towards the fallen men. "You must know that's madness, Aurora. I hardly recognize you."
Rose felt the familiar urge to fire upon him, but she found that she could contain it. It burned low and ominous in the pit of her stomach, and she held her head higher. "Perhaps you never saw me to begin with, Philip."
Philip continued to speak, but Rose found that she could not bear to listen. His words sounded to her just like the irritating voices of the King's men as they beset her, and all of them now stared at her in utter bewilderment.
Rose shook her head to clear it. She would not attack Philip. She must leave immediately. She must leave...she must...
I am not here.
I am upstairs in my room.
I am not here.
I am upstairs in my room.
Rose wrapped her arms tightly about herself as she felt the world recede from her, and when she gathered the courage to open her eyes, she found that she was indeed upstairs in her room, looking out the window as the last rays of sun slowly disappeared from the sky.
She supposed she'd have to deal with them someday...but she felt a small jolt of something remarkably close to happiness when she realized that she held that power. She would face them eventually, but it would be on her own terms.
"A resident human sorceress," Sara echoed quietly, deep in thought.
"That is the official word, Excellency."
Sara had traveled much in her lifetime, and she had encountered many different types of humans, but the ones who lusted for power were the worst of them. What did this little princess think she was playing at? Did she think she would capture the power of the Fae so infamously and then simply return to her own world to rule with it?
The human King and Queen of the Sea Kingdom were but figureheads. They were kind-hearted, simple-minded people who adored Sara and taught their family to do the same. The adoration had of course come from fear a few generations back. These rulers feared her, too, as well they should, but they were at least kind enough to act as though they genuinely liked her.
By contrast, the rulers of all the Three Kingdoms were far superior in influence to that of the three good fairies who resided there. Those fairies and their kingdoms were profoundly lucky Maleficent had no taste for political power; they couldn't even have given her a run for her money.
If a human sorceress were to usurp the throne, there was no telling what would happen. Humans who dabbled in magic were prone to madness, particularly because the only magic they ever dabbled in was that of the wicked fae. Sara had heretofore believed that the human princess was being manipulated, but now her actions indicated that she was acting at least partially of her own volition. That spelled danger.
This particular human sorceress had access to considerably better resources than the common witch. She'd been affected by Maleficent's magic since birth, and therefore drew from it. On top of that, she'd benefitted from the tutelage of at least two of the most powerful wicked fairies in existence. In all likelihood, she had more magic and more knowledge than she knew how to handle.
Then again, this would be a most inconvenient time for some sort of foolhardy coup. It was possible the wicked fairies had sent the girl on this misguided quest to assert her power as a distraction. But Sara had underestimated the girl once before. Better to deal with this as swiftly as possible, distraction or no.
"Send word that I'd like to request a meeting with the human sorceress," she said at last. Titania's orders be damned. Circumstances were changing far too rapidly to wait around for the Sky Kingdom's nonsense.
"Yes, Excellency."
Then, as an afterthought, "And the King's counselors. Separately, of course."
This gave the good fairy messenger pause. "Milady?"
Sara waved her hand in dismissal. "Just in case the princess thinks she wants to play politics."
"Good to see you awake, pet."
Maleficent's vision blurred, came into focus, then blurred again. The world seemed to her at once uncommonly bright and uncommonly dark, and she was only vaguely aware that Kinsale sat at her side because of the direction from whence her voice had come.
"How are you feeling?"
Maleficent scoffed, but even this small expenditure of energy caused her immense pain and she grimaced. "Never better."
The light touch of Kinsale's fingertips on Maleficent's forehead caused her to wince, not because she felt pain, but because she couldn't remember the last time she'd been touched so gently. The world came into focus. Kinsale smiled.
"How long have I been out?"
"I couldn't say exactly," said Kinsale as she lightly trailed her fingers along Maleficent's hairline. "I found you a little over a fortnight ago."
A long time. As long as or longer than she'd taken to regain consciousness after the battle with her mother. Then again, she'd been afforded minimal opportunity to recover from her brush with death at the hands of Mistress Sara, and she'd had a multitude of bouts with sleeplessness in the past two decades. Perhaps she was long overdue for a rest.
"What's become of you?"
"The first explosion came as a bit of a shock to me, I confess. I ended up near the Desert Lands, of all places." Kinsale's voice carried its usual sing-song quality, but there was something ever so slightly strained in the sound. "I tried to pay my friend, Makeda, a visit, but there was a blue X over the door. I expect that means the good fairies have a fair amount of Truth Serum on their hands now."
"How wonderful." Maleficent closed her eyes and attempted a deep breath, but all she achieved was an unsettling wheeze. Logically, she knew she'd recover sooner or later, but if the good fairies had indeed gained such an advantage, she'd much prefer to be back on her feet sooner.
"I don't understand why there have been so many explosions, though. Seems like a foolhardy move, or a last-ditch effort. Or a scare tactic, I suppose..."
Kinsale liked to speculate as a rule, but this sort of vague, wandering thought process coupled with the telltale wavering in her voice seemed steeped in real fear. Kinsale wanted to know how the war was going on a grand scale. She didn't want to believe what Maleficent had long accepted: the wicked fairies were likely to lose.
"Have you found anyone else?" Maleficent dared to ask, but she did not open her eyes. If there was bad news, it would show in Kinsale's eyes. She would not bear witness to it.
Kinsale was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, she'd dropped all pretense of cheer. Her voice was quiet and very, very tired. "I found Inopius, but another explosion separated us after little more than an hour. A small party of young fairies I didn't recognize told me they'd met Nicodemus and Velan with a few other men, also young. No word from Zenovia, but I imagine she's keeping her head down. It would take more than a magical explosion to catch her off her guard."
The way in which Kinsale stopped speaking seemed abrupt, as though she had almost continued and then thought better of it. But perhaps Maleficent was paranoid. Kinsale would have to be dense not to realize whom she'd left out. Did she mean to force Maleficent to ask? What could that possibly accomplish? Was her fate so gruesome that Kinsale genuinely believed Maleficent wouldn't want to know?
"And Briar Rose?"
Maleficent's voice seemed unbearably loud to her own ears, although she knew she'd barely spoken above a whisper, and the question seemed to echo in the long silence that followed. Maleficent opened her eyes and set them upon Kinsale, who was turned away from her.
"She's unharmed."
Maleficent had seen Kinsale cry only once, and it had been recent. Sometimes, when they'd lived together, Kinsale would get a little dewy-eyed over what Maleficent inevitably found to be a particularly insipid novel or story, but her response to real sorrow was that of any wicked fairy: she bore the news with quiet resolve, and she grieved in private.
The only reason Maleficent had seen her cry once was because Kinsale had believed herself to be dismissed. She'd turned to leave, vocally refused to accept that Maleficent was resigned to her death, and then left to come to terms with it. Maleficent had been a bit surprised in retrospect that Kinsale cared enough about her to weep at the mere notion of her death, but she hadn't given the matter very much thought.
But now, Kinsale's shoulders shook, and the eerie silence in the room was punctured only by little gasps and sniffs, and none of the previous circumstances applied. Maleficent could easily see how Kinsale would be moved to tears if Rose met with some unfortunate end, but if she was unharmed, what reason was there to cry? What worse circumstance could there be that did not immediately spring to Maleficent's mind? What loophole was there in the phrase she's unharmed?
"Kinsale?"
Kinsale took a deep breath, and her shoulders stilled. "I'm so sorry, Maleficent," she said, her musical voice heavy with misery.
Maleficent's concern quickly shifted into irritation remarkably close to anger. "Tell me what happened, why don't you!" she barked, ignoring the pain she felt in her chest from the force of her speech.
Kinsale swallowed audibly, but she remained unnervingly still. "She's returned to the Eastern Kingdom."
Maleficent's immediate response was a sigh of relief. She felt for one glorious instant that an enormous weight had been lifted from her chest. The girl had finally come to her senses, and she hadn't been the victim of a magical explosion before she had the chance.
"The word is that she returned as a resident sorceress first and a princess second. She's agreed to advise the King on the state of the war. And..."
Slowly, as though in a dream, or underwater, Maleficent closed her eyes. "And?"
"And Sara's troops intend to convene just outside the Eastern Kingdom within the month."
This reaction, unlike the flood of relief, came upon her with painstaking slowness. It began with a low burn in the pit of her stomach, then a dull ache in her heart, and it spread through her veins like a curse or a poison. No. It couldn't be. Maleficent would have seen it coming. Impossible.
Briar Rose had not run away merely to protect herself. She had run away to betray them all.
No! Inconceivable! Even with her vastly improved and admittedly impressive magical prowess, Rose was as guileless as a child. How could she have deceived not only Maleficent, but Kinsale and Zenovia, as well?
At the same time, she couldn't possibly be so stupid that she would not realize what her change of loyalties meant. If she'd merely intended to extract herself from the matter, that would be one thing, but to align herself with the other side, especially now that they had access to Truth Serum...
If it had been a snap decision, it had been an idiotic one in the most destructive of ways. Perhaps Briar Rose was occasionally foolish, but was she so foolish that she could bring nations down around her ears without even a second thought?
It seemed it was Maleficent who was the fool.
Maleficent wasn't certain how much time passed after that. At some point, she fell so deeply into thought that she lost consciousness, and only realized this when she could not remember where in her thought process she had left off. When she opened her eyes, Kinsale no longer sat at her side, and far more acutely than the physical pain that plagued her body, she was aware of a strange emptiness she had never known. She felt as though she were missing something vital—yet, at the same time, as though she were missing something she hadn't even known she possessed.
Briar Rose had betrayed her.
Had or would, soon enough. Even if she didn't intend it, to deal with the other side would inevitably lead to disaster. Rose knew too much.
So curious. In order to betray, one must first be trusted.
Had Maleficent trusted Rose?
Imbecilic, at best. It was one thing to care for her, to lust after her...but Maleficent had dared to entertain half-formed delusions of love. This hysteria, she now remembered, had gotten Maleficent into her current predicament. She'd been in a frenzy, positively stark-raving mad at the mere notion, and here was the crux of it!
Maleficent had never fully trusted another soul, and she was uncomfortable handling the trust of others for just this reason. She'd run away from Kinsale when she'd sensed it, and she'd endeavoured to drive Briar Rose away for the sheer idiocy of it. How miserably she had failed!
How miserably Maleficent had failed in all things!
What had been Maleficent's original intention? To enact a good, clean bit of revenge. Simple. While Maleficent certainly had a talent for complicated, long-range planning (and, possibly consequently, for manipulation), she had very little interest in the day to day lives of humans, or even most fairies. Why, given the option, Maleficent would most often prefer to be alone. People bored her at best and exhausted her at worst.
And the nerve of the Eastern royals! That they should so haughtily declare their desire for Maleficent's absence! As though Maleficent desired their presence!
As though Maleficent had asked the Queen to come knocking upon her door!
As though Maleficent had asked for any of this nonsense!
Maleficent let out an insufferably weak groan of frustration, which caused her chest to seize up in a nasty cough.
"Awake again," Kinsale remarked quietly from the doorway of the ballroom.
This was the first time Maleficent was aware enough of her surroundings to realize she was in her home in the Dragon Country. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her racing thoughts.
"I've never felt so foolish in all my days," said Maleficent after a moment, eyes still closed. "I don't know how anyone endures it."
Kinsale responded with a quiet huff of amusement. "I'm certain you'll pull through."
"I suppose I shall get my wish after all."
"Hmm?"
"I meant to kill her for nearly two decades. Now I have a much better reason."
Maleficent could hear slow, quiet steps as Kinsale cautiously approached. "You really mean to kill her?"
"Of course," Maleficent replied coldly. "Did it sound like a joke?"
"Suppose it isn't a betrayal—"
"If it isn't, then it shall be, and you know it!" Maleficent snapped. The stakes were clear to her. If she allowed Briar Rose to fall into Sara's hands, she'd be tortured for fun, given Truth Serum for her knowledge, and then burned at the stake like any other prisoner when she was no longer of use.
Kinsale knew all of this, but she was blinded by sentiment. She, once as guarded as any other wicked fairy, now clung to some idiotic notion that because Rose might not grasp the full extent of her actions, whatever affection existed between them remained valid.
"Maleficent, won't you at least go and talk to her before you make any rash decisions?"
"What is there to discuss, Kinsale?" The frenzy she felt bubbling in her chest granted her strength, and she sat up. "What else would you have me say that will later spill forth from the girl's lips with the first drop of the Serum?"
"Just explain the situation!" Kinsale insisted. "Perhaps it isn't too late to—"
"To what, Kinsale? Shall I truly kidnap her this time around? Shall I cast a sleeping curse to be broken only by True Love's Kiss? What is your brilliant plan, O Great Schemer?"
"And what is your plan, if I may be so bold?" Kinsale snapped in response. "Slit her throat and run? Never look back? Run and run and run until you convince yourself she never loved you?"
"Love!" Maleficent cried. "What is all this sudden talk of love, of all the imbecilic notions?"
"Are you still so afraid of it? Truly? After all this time, you still cling to that stupid old lie?"
Maleficent's voice dropped abruptly from shouting to deadly calm. "Is it a lie?"
"Yes!" Kinsale shrieked, and again her eyes were full of tears. "Yes, it's a lie! I loved you! I fell in love with you, and you ran away, and I see now it wasn't because you couldn't love me back, it was because you were afraid!"
Kinsale's accusation hung heavy in the silence that followed, accompanied only by her ragged breathing as she furiously fought back tears. Maleficent was far too stunned to feel much of anything.
Kinsale turned away from Maleficent. "Do you know Rose told me she loved me?"
Maleficent didn't respond. The words barely made sense to her.
"After...my, but it must have been the very first battle," Kinsale continued quietly. "I was only staying with her because she'd fainted, you know, and she just...just said it. The words were so natural to her, and I couldn't..."
Still Maleficent could not bring herself to say or do anything. She was lost in a memory she'd never fully understood before this moment.
She saw Kinsale in her mind...younger, sharper, crueler...but on this day, she saw something foreign shining in Kinsale's eyes. They'd spent the entire day together. They'd had breakfast, taken a long walk with arms linked, had lunch, and spent the afternoon and evening intermittently reading and talking, ever side by side.
At some point in the early evening, just before sunset, Maleficent had looked up from the book she was reading to ask Kinsale her opinion on something, and she'd found that Kinsale was already looking at her as though she had something to say.
She waited, but nothing came.
As the silence lingered, Maleficent began to feel uncomfortable. Kinsale looked troubled, and there was that something twinkling in her eyes, at once joyous and terribly melancholy, but she did not look away. At last, she leaned in and kissed Maleficent, lightly at first; but then she set aside her own book and took Maleficent's face in her hands.
That kiss was something far different from the countless others they'd shared. At first, Maleficent was inclined to succumb to it. The passion was unprecedented and intoxicating, to be certain, but the longer it lasted, the more intense it became. Maleficent began to feel a peculiar sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the fear she'd very nearly banished from her mind over the past few years gradually seeped through her veins like a poison until she felt numb and cold all over.
She pulled away.
"Is something wrong?"
Everything.
"No."
In the present, Kinsale remained facing away from Maleficent, awaiting her response to the information she'd been given and the accusation leveled against her. But Maleficent felt the exact same sensation she'd felt a century prior. Really, it was something of a relief to know she was still capable of feeling anything, even if what she felt was all-consuming terror.
"Briar Rose must die, one way or another," said Maleficent at last. "Even if there is love to be found in the hearts of wicked fairies, it is at the very best a needless complication."
Kinsale's shoulders hitched and she let out a shuddering sigh. "I never thought to call you a coward, Maleficent," she said quietly, and left the room.