They left early in the morning despite not sleeping much during the night. Rose woke up in Maric’s arms as the sun was peeking through the trees. He was already awake and watching her. Rose blushed remembering what had happened the night before. After the first time, Maric woke her two more times in the night, each time more intense than the last until Rose felt as if she could take no more of the pleasure. She was wrong as she met him eagerly with every stroke until they collapsed into one another and Maric pulled up the blanket around them.

Despite the interrupted sleep, Rose hadn’t felt so well rested in a long while. She felt completely loose, as if each muscle in her body was kneaded and stretched. She yawned widely in her saddle and Maric turned to smile at her. Rose blushed brightly again.

She didn’t know what to say to him in the morning. Something between them had changed forever.

“If I had known that sleeping with you would have stilled your tongue, I would have done it a while ago,” Maric said with a smile on his face. Rose stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed.

“When will we arrive in Beaumont?”

Maric’s face grew serious. “Not long now.” By the position of the sun in the sky, it was nearly noon. They had eaten the last of their food for breakfast and Rose was eager for luncheon despite the uncomfortable churning in her stomach. Today, she would see Philip again. Rose worried her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure if he would even recognize her. She was no longer disguised as Jacques, but she looked different now than she did then. Her skin was golden from being in the sun and her hair red ever since she began coloring it for her disguise. She had cut it short too, but it was now overdue for another trim.

But, she knew it was more than outwardly appearances. These past five years had changed who she was. She was no longer the naive peasant girl nor the beautiful, untouchable princess. She was more worldly now, much more so after last night, she thought with a blush.

It was less than an hour before Rose saw the large stone gates of Beaumont. The city itself was nestled at the bottom of a large mountain range. Rose could see that the tops were already covered in snow.

Maric rode quickly towards the main gate and nodded at the soldiers standing guard. They nodded in return and did not stop them as they rode through. The young prince’s baptism was only three days away and many people from around the country had been pouring into the city for the celebration. They had passed caravans of wagons filled with families on their way into the city.

Maric continued onto the stable where he handed Clover to the groom there. Rose did the same with Daffodil. “Alistair said he will meet us at the White Rabbit Inn,” he said.

They pushed their way through the jubilant crowds. A large outdoor fair had been set up and the air filled with the sweet smells of cake and the savory smells of roasted meat. Rose ignored her gurgling stomach as Maric pushed open the door of the inn. Rose’s eyes immediately fell on Alistair’s light blond hair. He was sitting at the bar with Odette, a tankard of ale in his hand.

“Alistair!” Maric called out.

“Maric! Rose! You made it.” Relief seemed to flood his face. Maric clapped him heartily on the back. Even Odette gave Rose a small smile.

“How is Pierre?” Maric asked, his face filled with concern. The last they saw of him two days ago, Pierre was in the throws of a fever. Infection had set in.

“His fever broke on the ride over. He will live.” Rose exhaled in relief. Alistair smiled at her. “Though, he may not be able to use his arm for some time yet.”

“At least he is alive and on the mend,” Rose said.

“Have you met with the king yet?” Maric asked.

Alistair shook his head. “We just arrived ourselves not an hour ago. I sent a note ahead. It was a slow drive with Pierre and the children. But, now that you are here, we can head over to the palace together.”

***

The castle sat at the far end of the city against the base of the mountain. From Rose’s perspective, it looked as if the castle was built right into the mountain. Only the outer facade of the castle was made of cut stone while the rest seemed to be flushed against the natural mountain side.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered.

Alistair smiled. “Yes it is. I grew up here as a child.”

“You were friends with the prince then?”

“Yes, Philip and his brother, Adrian, though he was much younger than us at the time. We were cousins, of course, but I could also count on Philip to be one of my closest friends.”

Rose nodded and said nothing more. Before the end of the day, she would see him again and she could feel the anxiety wash over her body.

“Are you all right, Rose? You look a little pale,” Maric asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Rose knew that she needed to tell Maric who she really was and, more so now after what happened between them last night. She knew that she loved him and he deserved the truth about her, about Philip. Maybe she could pull him aside before they met with the king.

They approached the imposing gate made out of iron. Alistair stated who he was to the soldiers at the gate and they allowed him and the rest of the party to pass. They entered a large courtyard filled with people mingling. From their dress, Rose determined that they must be other high ranking dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms present for the young prince’s baptism. She kept her eyes forward lest one of them recognized her. She wondered if her own parents were present somewhere in the castle. The kingdoms of Valenris and Liyonne were old allies, thus why the arrangement for Philip and her to marry one day. It would have united both kingdoms, a power move that many rejoiced but some feared. She was certain that some among the groups of people present were relieved when Rose vanished and Philip married someone else.

Rose kept her eyes down as she passed the crowd of lords and ladies. If she hadn’t ran away five years ago, it might be her now greeting them in the great hall. She remembered her parents telling her of her own christening, the day that she was cursed by Maleficent. Rose said a silent prayer that all would go well for the young prince.

As the group walked into the main hall, a servant detached himself from the wall.

“Lord Alistair, it is good to see you again. My king had received your note. He will meet you and the others in his private study, however, he has instructed me to see you to your rooms.”

“Our rooms?” Rose asked.

The servant turned to her. “Yes, you will all be staying in the castle. My king insisted.”

Alistair smiled widely. “I was hoping for this. No more sleeping out in the woods or in a dirty inn.”

“If you can give us the direction of where you left your belongings,” the servant crooked a finger and four men appeared out of the shadows, “we will go and retrieve them for you.”

Alistair informed them of the location of his and Odette’s belongings, which they left at the inn. Maric and Rose’s belongings were still in saddlebags left in the stables. The four men vanished as quickly as they appeared.

The man led the group deeper into the castle. They passed many more servants and guards. The servants were bustling around the castle with their arms loaded down with sheets and towels or trays of food, while the guards stood by at each entrance. The man caught Rose’s eye and said, “We have many distinguished guests present for Prince Tristan’s baptism in three days. The king and queen are well-prepared to provide any level of comfort their guests need. Including yourselves.”

They followed the man down the end of a long hallway before they began climbing up the stairs into one of the four towers. Midway up, the man turned off and walked down a short hallway. Rose saw that there were four doors, two on the left wall, and two on the right. He directed Alistair and Odette to take the two alongside the left and Maric and Rose to take the two on the right.

“If you need anything, there is a bell pull in each chamber that will summon one of the two maids assigned to this floor of the castle.”

Rose thanked the servant and turned into the bedchamber. It was decently sized, though Rose knew based off of the rooms found in Fleurcourt that it was one of the smaller chambers. A bed sat in the middle of the room, just large enough for two people if they slept closely to one another. It was covered in clean bedding and a thick blanket. A small fireplace was burning brightly at the farside of the room. Before Rose could take a step farther, there was a knock on the door. Rose opened it to find a maid carrying her pack. She dropped quickly into curtsy upon seeing Rose.

“Miss, I brought your things. Would you like me to unpack your bag?” Rose knew from experience that by telling the young girl “no” would lead to the girl feeling as if she had done something wrong. When Rose first began living at Fleurcourt, she washed her own clothes, cleaned her own room, made her own bed, and emptied her own chamberpot. The maids were aghast and complained to the head housekeeper, who in turn complained to Queen Leah. Her mother had to sit her down to tell her that if Rose did all the work then there was nothing left for the maids to do and, if that was the case, the maids would feel as if their livelihoods were threatened. And she wouldn’t want the maids to feel as they didn’t earn their keep, did she?

Rose nodded to the maid, a bright green eyed girl with hair the color golden wheat. While most maids kept their hair tucked neatly under their white caps, this one had a few strands artfully peeking from the bottom of her cap. Rose thought it was intentional. The girl knew that her hair was her best feature and wanted to show it off whenever she could.

“My name is Jeanette,” the maid said as she moved across the chamber and placed Rose’s pack on the ground. She began unpacking it, shifting the clean clothes from the dirty ones. She didn’t even blink when she pulled out the tunic and trousers Rose wore as Jacques. When she finished, she returned to Rose.

“My name is Rose,” Rose said introducing herself. Jeanette gave her a deferential nod.

“Would milady need anything else?”

Rose hesitated. The clothes she wore were no fit to meet the king with, not based on what the other guests were wearing. She didn’t have a gown in her possession. Even Jeanette was dressed better than she was. “Would what I am wearing be acceptable when meeting with King Philip?” Rose asked. She didn’t have much of a choice. She just hoped Odette didn’t have a gown squirreled away in her own pack. At least she can count on Maric to look as unkempt as she. He only had the one set of clothes from what Rose gathered.

Jeanette eyed her dress critically. “It is not quite proper, but I believe it will do. Peasants often come to see the king themselves and they be not wearing gowns and suits and such. And, it is not King Philip, it is King Adrian.”

Rose froze. “Adrian? Philip’s brother?”

“Yes,” Jeanette said. “Philip was never king. He’s been gone these past five years.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know, milady?” Jeanette asked, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Philip disappeared five years ago when he went after the lost princess. He never returned.” Jeanette’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I am not supposed to say this, but most people believe that something bad happened to him. That he died. When King Hubert died, some say of a broken heart of not knowing whatever happened to his eldest son, Prince Adrian refused to take on the crown believing Philip would one day return. But, a year of mourning passed for King Hubert and with no sign of Philip, Prince Adrian had no choice. He became king on the condition that if Prince Philip returned, he would abdicate the throne back to his brother.”

“Philip is missing?” Rose repeated.

Jeanette nodded gravely, but then broke into a smile. “But, sometimes, I like to believe that Prince Philip did find the lost princess, Aurora, and they ran off together to live happily ever after.” Silence filled the room for a moment before Jeanette shook herself out of her reverie. “Well, milady, if you have nothing else, I will take your things to be washed. They will be back in your chambers tonight.”

Rose thanked Jeanette as the maid curtsied again and left the room.

Philip was missing, likely dead, Rose thought. All these years, she thought about him, wondered about him, thinking that he was alive and happy, king, married, and with a new baby, but it wasn’t him at all. It was his younger brother, Adrian. Rose remembered meeting Adrian once. He was closer to her age than Philip was and she remembered how he idolized his older brother. They looked much the same, with the same soft brown eyes and hair. But, where Philip was bold, Adrian was shy. He had a gentleness to him.

Five years, Rose thought, Philip had been gone for five years and she didn’t even know. She hadn’t even felt him slipping away. He came for her. Rose should have known that he would. Philip loved her and he would have torn the earth apart to find her.

Rose stilled. What if he did find her? She thought back to what Athena told her. There was a man who hung around the camp when Rose first began to live with Athena and her troupe. Rose hadn’t seen the man, but Athena had. And she said he looked a lot like-

A knock on the door interrupted Rose’s thoughts. She opened it.

“The king is waiting. Are you ready?” Maric asked.

***

Rose followed Maric down the tower. Alistair led the way with Odette’s arm tucked into his. A page had come to gather them, but by Alistair’s confident strides, it appeared that he already knew the way to the king’s private study. Maric watched Rose out of the corner of his eye, her own arm hanging limply in his own. She seemed pale, her eyes wide with shock.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Nervous?” It wasn’t every day that one met with a king. Even though Rose said she had performed before royalty, musicians were no higher regarded than servants and were promptly ignored after a performance. Though, Maric would have to admit that it would be hard to ignore Rose. Even as they walked through the courtyard earlier, Maric could feel the eyes of all the noble guests fall on Rose. It was as they were unwillingly drawn to her.

And as she passed them in her simple peasant dress, Maric knew she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She didn’t need their fine silks and furs, their powdered faces and rouged lips, hairs brushed and decorated with gaudy headpieces, and the air stinking of heavy perfume to mask their unwashed bodies. Rose stood apart in her durable simple dress, her face fresh from paint and though a little wane from the events of the past few days, there was a brightness in her violet eyes and a sureness in her step. When she had turned to smile at Maric, he felt everyone around them draw in a breath.

Rose was a princess amongst peasants, Maric thought as he drew her arm tighter against the side of his body. She looked up at him with the same look of shock and drew her eyes away quickly.

He leaned down close to her ear as they stopped in front of a large, ornate wooden door. “Do not worry, my love. It will be over soon.”

***

On the walk over to the king’s study, Rose wracked her mind as to why she had not recognized Maric for who he truly was. Now that she knew he was Philip, she could not see how she did not know. His eyes, she thought, his eyes are so kind. Even now, he looked down at her, his eyes were filled with concern and kindness. He thinks she is nervous to meet the king.

Rose suddenly stopped. “Maric. I need to tell you…”

Maric looked at her inquiringly.

Two guards standing outside the study opened the door for the party and the page walked in introducing them. She could see a young man dressed finely in the typical uniform of court, something Rose was familiar before she ran away. She instantly recognized him as Adrian, Philip’s brother. A young woman stood by his side and she dipped her head shyly as they entered.

Maric looked at Rose as if waiting to hear what she had to say. But, Rose knew that it was already too late as the king approached them, his hands held out wide to take in Alistair’s.

“Cousin! I am so glad that you made it! I did not expect you to come to my son’s baptism.”

Alistair smiled widely in return, but it turned grim quickly. “A blessing that, but, unfortunately we have news.”

Adrian’s eyes darted to the rest of their party and Rose noticed that it lingered slightly on Maric. He did not recognize his own brother, Rose thought in alarm. Just as Alistair did not recognize his own cousin, nor she her own betrothed.

“Come sit, then, by the fire.” Adrian gestured to the overstuffed chairs. “This is my wife, my queen, Nymphea.” Rose was startled to see that the lady’s eyes were a bright gold.

“She is fey,” Odette said in surprise.

The queen turned at her. “As are you.” Odette blushed brightly before taking a seat as far from the queen as possible.

“It is a long story,” Adrian said, “For another time, maybe. What news do you bring?”

Alistair gestured to Maric, who stepped forward. “My king, there have been attacks to the south. Whole farms and villages burned to the ground. People killed by an onslaught of goblins.”

“Goblins?” Adrian’s eyebrows knitted with concern. “There hasn’t been any sightings of them in over five years.”

“We were attacked not two nights ago at a farm outside Berxley,” Alistair said.

“Berxley is gone,” Maric added. “The townsfolk, the survivors, will be arriving soon to Beaumont seeking shelter.”

Queen Nymphea reached up and laid her hand on Adrian’s arm. “We must help them. We must ready Beaumont, the castle.” Adrian nodded.

“We have enough land, stores of food, for them.” He smiled grimly. “We were preparing for a feast, now we will feed the hungry.”

“There may be more coming as well,” Maric said, everyone’s eyes turning to him. He nodded over to Rose. “We tracked the goblins back to their camp. They have taken over a decrepit keep not two days ride from here.”

“I know of the place,” Adrian said.

“There are thousands of them. And they are led by a witch, a sorceress.”

Queen Nymphea’s hands flew to her mouth, her face stricken with horror. “No… it can’t be.”

“Yes, my queen,” Rose said. “Maleficent has returned.”

Maric turned suddenly towards Rose, his eyes wide with alarm.

“How do you know?” Adrian asked, his face pale.

“Because I am Aurora, Princess of Liyonne,” Rose said, stepping into the light. She heard Maric take in a sharp inhale.

“You were the one that she was looking for,” he said in a low voice.

Rose smiled sadly at him. “I am so sorry.” She turned to Adrian. “There is more.” She gestured at Maric. “This is your missing brother, your king, Philip.”

Rose startled as Maric screamed and she turned to find him clutching his head, keeled over, before collapsing onto the ground.

***

“What is happening to him?” Alistair shouted, dropping to the ground. Maric writhed uncontrollably for a moment, his hands clutching his head, before falling deathly still. Rose rushed to Maric and took one of his hands into her own. It was cold as death.

“He is cursed,” Nymphea said, stepping forward and dropping down next to Rose, reaching up and gingerly touching Maric’s head.

“Maleficent?” Adrian asked. “I don’t understand how it is possible. Philip killed her years ago. He killed her and lifted your own curse.” He looked at Rose, his eyes searching her face as if not believing what he was seeing.

“She did not die, weakened, perhaps, but not killed.” Nymphea stood and turned to face her husband. “We will need to move him to somewhere more comfortable.” Adrian nodded and went to the door. He returned with the two guards that had been standing outside.

“Take him to Prince Philip’s old chamber.” The guards were well-trained, Rose thought. They didn’t even look a bit surprised at what she would assume to have been a strange request. Rose made to follow them, but Adrian called her back.

“Aurora,” he said, peering into her face as if trying to unravel a mystery he found there. The confusion parted as he whispered, “it is you.” Rose only met Adrian once, when he came to Fleurcourt with his brother on one of Philip’s weekly visits to Liyonne to see her. Rose had looked forward to his weekly visits, it was a break in an otherwise mundane and frustrating week at the castle. Adrian was a year older than Rose and they had fallen into a quick friendship that afternoon. Five years have passed since then and Rose was astounded at how much he looked like how Philip looked then. His shoulders were broad that tapered down into a trim waist. The only difference was that his hair was overlong, brushing the top of his shoulders, while Philip had always kept his hair short. Until now, that is, as Rose thought of Maric’s own long hair tied back with a leather strip.

“Yes, Adrian.”

“I do not understand. I do not understand any of this. Have you been with him this entire time?”

Rose shook her head. “We’ve only met again a few days past. I did not realize Maric was Philip until just a few moments ago.”

“Maric,” Adrian said, playing with name on his tongue. “That is what he had been calling himself?”

“He does not remember,” Rose said.

“The curse,” Nymphea interjected. “He is cursed.”

“It appears to be the case,” Rose agreed. “Philip cannot remember his past. He was found by a couple nearly five years ago, half dead and with no memory of who he was. There are… scars. He had been tortured. He told me that he had been having nightmares recently.” Ever since the night they met, Rose thought suddenly. Maybe that was what had begun unraveling the secrets trapped in his mind? “And in these nightmares, a witch is forcing him to tell her the location of a girl.”

“You,” Adrian said.

“Yes, but why me? Why does she want me still? And, why isn’t she already dead?” Everyone knew of the tale, of how Prince Philip slayed Maleficent, who appeared as a dragon with the Sword of Truth and Shield of Virtue bestowed on him by Rose’s godmothers.

Nymphea shook her head. “Maleficent is not foolish enough to expend all her powers in a single fight. Philip did not fight her at all, but an illusion. No, that is not the word,” she fell silent for a moment. “Not illusion, but only a piece of herself.” Nymphea continued. “We fey live long lives, but the more magic we use, or the more powerful the spell, our lives are shortened and will remain shortened until the spell is fulfilled.” Nymphea looked pointedly at Rose. “You, princess, did not die as you were supposed to on your sixteenth birthday and every minute since that passes the magic that dwells inside you, Maleficent’s magic, is drawn farther away from her. It will not return to her, will not restore her, until you die.” Rose felt an icy chill run down her spine.

“She is weakened, but not without her powers. I do not know how much time she has left to live, but a killing spell is a powerful one that demands a lot of magic. She must be getting desperate. Maleficent was infuriated when Merryweather altered her spell to change it to sleep and not death.”

“And, Philip, what of him?”

Nymphea shook her head sadly. “I do not know the conditions of the curse. And, there may not have been any other fey to alter the spell on him. He is not sleeping. He is dying.”

***

Rose watched as Maric’s breath rose and fell. It was shallow, as if he slept poorly. His face was tense with pain and Rose reached out to smooth out his brow. He sighed into her hand, but when she withdrew it, his face was pained again.

Maric was Philip, Rose thought. Philip was Maric. And, he was cursed. Was this fate? Was it fate that one of them would die by the hand of Maleficent? If it wasn’t her, it would be him?

Rose closed her eyes and willed the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help Maric now. Could not save him. Her eyes flew open, but, perhaps true love’s kiss? Rose leaned forward, placing a hand on each side of his face and leaned in close. Please, Rose pleaded silently, please.

She kissed him on his lips, which felt as cold as ice under hers. When she pulled back, she saw that his eyes were still closed and his breathing still shallow.

“It did not work?”

Rose turned to see Alistair standing at the doorway. Rose shook her head sadly. “Perhaps, I am not his true love.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He loves you. He may not know it yet himself, but he does,” his voice trailed off. “I cannot believe I did not recognize him. My own cousin.” Alistair collapsed onto a seat next to the bed. “I’ve known Philip all my life and I didn’t even know his face. I thought he had died.”

“I did not know him either and he was my betrothed.” Rose didn’t add that Philip was the love of her life. She was still confused about how Philip and Maric were the same, yet different men. She loved Maric, who Philip had become, which felt like a betrayal to the Philip she once remembered.

“And, I did not recognize my own brother,” Adrian said, approaching the bed with Nymphea on his arm.

“None of you would,” Nymphea said, kneeling down next to Rose and taking one of her hands into hers. “The curse Maleficent placed on him made it so that even his closest friends and family would not know him. That he would not know himself.”

“But, Rose,” Alistair began, “I mean, Aurora, did.”

“Not at first,” Rose said. “It was only today when the maid told me that Philip had been missing for years. I always assumed that he was king and that he had married.” She looked at Nymphea.

“You thought that he had forgotten you.”

“In a way he did,” Rose brushed her hand across Maric’s brow. “But, not the way I thought he had.”

Adrian stepped forward. “Philip loved you Aurora. He was beside himself when you disappeared. When he received your letter, he was crushed. But, he wouldn’t give you up. He left immediately to find you. That was the last I saw of him. Until now.”

“I am so sorry,” Rose stood and turned to Adrian. Sadness clouded his eyes and she thought a bit of anger. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t ran away, Philip wouldn’t have come after her. He wouldn’t have been captured by Maleficent and tortured for information about her. He wouldn’t have been cursed and suffered the fear of never knowing who he truly was. He wouldn’t have suffered that loneliness.

Adrian reached out and took her hands into his own. “All is forgiven.”

“What do we do now?” Odette said, watching from just inside the room. She hovered at the edge as if uncomfortable to be a part of the scene before her.

“We know Maleficent wants me,” Rose said.

“No, out of the question,” Alistair said, standing up. “We will not use you as bait.”

“If I go to her-”

“She will kill you,” Adrian said. “No, we will fight her. I have already called back all the soldiers. They had gone back to their own villages for the celebration. A holiday of sorts. Once they have returned, we will gather our forces and march onto the keep.”

“How long will it take for the soldiers to return?” Rose asked.

“A few days.”

“We don’t have a few days. Philip is dying.”

***

A day has passed since Adrian went to send out every messenger in the palace with notes to gather every soldier in the country back to Beaumont. They will march on to Maleficent’s stronghold as soon as they all return, which Adrian expected to be within the next day or so. Supplies were being gathered in the city center. Villagers and farmers began pouring into the city walls having been displaced from their homes from the goblin attacks. Each carried the same story. Swarms of goblins armed to the teeth attacked them in the middle of the night. Many died, but a few escaped now seeking refuge within the stone walls of Beaumont. Adrian opened the gates for them all.

Rose only heard little of this as she spent all her time at Maric’s bedside. His face remained pale, but his breathing became more shallow as if it took too much of his strength to draw in the smallest of breaths. He was worsening. He was dying.

Rose let the tears run down her face and onto Maric’s chest. She loved him, why would the kiss not work? It broke her own curse.

Nymphea walked in the room with another set of blankets and sheets. Though Maric felt as cold as ice, he sweated profusely through the sheets and they had to change them every few hours to keep him from catching a chill. It was as if he had raging fever.

Rose turned to Nymphea and helped her strip the sodden blankets off of Maric’s bed and turn him to remove the sheets.

“I do not understand why he will not wake,” Rose said.

Nymphea watched her with sad eyes. “Every curse is different. Yours, well, Merryweather had the foresight to alter it when it was still fresh, to change it so that you would not die, but only sleep.”

“And that I would be awakened with true love’s kiss. And, it is too late now to alter Philip’s curse?”

Nymphea nodded, her eyes dropping to Maric’s face. “He has been living with the curse for nearly five years. It has already taken hold over him and cannot be undone.” Rose heard what Nymphea feared to say out loud, that the curse will only end when it comes to its final state, killing Philip.

“You need to rest,” Nymphea said. “You haven’t slept.”

Rose smiled wryly. She’s slept enough for many lifetimes.

“I’ll have someone bring you some hot food at least. If you will not sleep, you need to eat. You need to keep your strength up. War is coming.”

Rose thanked the queen as she helped her gather the sodden sheets. Rose tucked Maric in deeper into the blankets and touched his forehead with her palm. Still cold as death.

Rose thought back to the stories she heard about how Philip broke her own curse. He kissed her, that was the famous ending to her story. He was her true love and the only one able to wake her. But, what else had he done?

Philip had the help of her aunts, of the fey, of Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. He had told Rose himself that he had been captured by Maleficent, the first time he had been her prisoner, Rose thought sadly, and then freed by her aunts. They had given him a sword and shield to break free of Maleficent’s castle, killing goblins on the way out. It was quite heroic when she heard the ballad of his escape from a bard that performed for the court when Philip had visited once. She was twice smitten with him when his face turned a lovely shade of pink in embarrassment of the song and how he clutched her hand tightly under the table so that no one else would see. She had fallen in love with him all over again in that moment.

Rose sighed. Did she need the power of the fey to help her defeat Maleficent? Did she need enchanted weapons to kill the sorceress?

But, Rose thought as she sat up, Philip did not kill Maleficent. He thought he did. The whole kingdom did until Rose realized the truth only the day before. Instead, Maleficent hid away for years building up her strength to seek her revenge against Valenris and, presumably, Liyonne. Against all humanity. Against Philip and against her.

I am the key, Rose thought as she sat up straighter, her eyes wide with awareness. Even Nymphea had said that Maleficent was weakened now, incomplete, as long as Aurora lived. The curse still lived inside her, dormant, but still there as it was never fulfilled and wouldn’t be until she died.

If Maleficent was killed, would that not lift the curse off of her? Off of Maric? Would it free them both?

She will come for me. But, not unless I go to her first.

***

Rose met with the others in the king’s study. The group looked exhausted. It had been a long day of preparations, most of which Rose missed as she stayed steadfastly next to Maric’s side all day. He was dying and everyone in the room knew it. If not for the shallow breaths he took, it would be as if he was already dead. A corpse that breathes, Rose thought, clutching her arms to herself. Alistair saw the distress on her face and wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders. “We will save him,” he said. Rose nodded and turned her attention to Adrian, who hurried into the room.

“The soldiers are arriving. We will have enough of them in number to march on Maleficent’s stronghold in the morning. The rest will follow behind the main battalion.” He turned to Alistair. “Your brother will lead one segment, I ask you to lead the other, and I the third.” Alistair nodded. His older brother, from Rose learned, was the Captain of the Guards and a rather brilliant one.

“The rest of you,” Adrian continued. “Will stay here at Beaumont.” Odette made a sound of protest but was silenced when Adrian looked at her. “I will need you here to protect the city if Maleficent’s forces break through our lines.” His eyes fell on Rose. “I will need you here to protect our king.”

“Philip.”

Adrian nodded. “He is alive and the rightful king of Valenris. I have just been keeping the throne warm for his return.” Rose didn’t want to think about what would come after the battle with Maleficent. All she knew was that she could no longer pretend that things were as it was with her as Rose and Philip as Maric. They could never return to those lives. They will need to become Princess Aurora and Prince Philip once again. No, she corrected, King Philip. Her betrothed, who never married, never had a child. She could still marry him and be queen of Valenris and Liyonne both. Rose stifled the shudder that threatened to break through her body. They could turn back the clock to five years before and continue on as they were then. Fate rearing her ugly head.

“Then it is settled,” Alistair said. “We will leave in the morning.”

“The march will take most of the day, but we expect to arrive at the keep in the evening. We will create a line of defense along the way. If all goes well, in two days time, we will all be home again.”

Adrian did not have to say what would happen if things did not go well. Rose provided as much information as she could about what she and Maric had seen at the keep, but she wished Maric was awake now to tell them what he saw. He had been there before. He had been kept prisoner within its walls. Maybe he knew the key to defeating Maleficent.

But, he was still asleep and would not wake until this was all over or never again. Rose gritted her teeth. It was up to them to save him. It was up to her though she did not know how.

“We will all need our rest. We will march out at dawn.” Adrian drew Nymphea close to his body, love painstakingly etched on his face. “I will come back to you.”

“Promise me,” she said clutching onto him and burying her face in his chest.

“I promise.”

Rose turned away from the young couple. She knew what she had to do for Adrian to keep his promise to his young wife.

***

Rose stepped into Maric’s room. The castle was busy preparing for the upcoming battle and Rose knew that she would have a moment alone with Maric before the maid came to check in on him.

Rose knelt down by the bed and took one of his hands into hers. She rubbed it unconsciously as if willing him to warm, to wake.

“Maric. Philip. I am leaving tonight. I will lift this damned curse off of you. I will kill her. Promise me you will hold on until I return.” She pressed a kiss into his forehead and forced down the sob that threatened to break through her lips. “I love you.”

Rose turned to see Odette standing in the doorway. “How much did you hear?”

“That you intend to kill Maleficent yourself.” Rose stood and pushed past Odette. She grabbed Rose on the sleeve. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, I need to do this on my own.” Rose felt as if something was pulling her towards Maleficent.

Odette looked around Rose at the empty space around her with that strange faraway look on her face like before. She blinked her eyes several times before focusing her gaze on Rose. Her expression hardened.

“Yes, you will. And, I will see you there safely.”