waking lives.
“We will aid you, of course,” she added with a bow.
The princess let out an audible sigh of relief; she hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. Just the thought of the one in red battling by her side was encouraging. And having the other two around…well, they might at least be good for moral support.
“But as the dreamer, you already have incredible powers at your disposal,” the one in green said, “as you have discovered yourself. In the end, this is your world. You control it.”
“All right,” Phillip said, tapping his own sword. “We have our own sorcerous Rose, two good hand-to-hand fighters, two, uh, whatever you green and blue ladies can do…against dream Maleficent. That sounds good. But what can Maleficent do, really? I defeated her with help before.”
The green one looked uneasily at the princess. “She has been growing stronger of late. I believe you can feel it—because we can.”
The red one lowered her eyes and kneeled for just a moment before rising again. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but the death of your parents has only made her more powerful. She has now fed upon royal blood and is much stronger.”
Your Majesty.
Aurora Rose shivered.
It was like the nightmare she had had in the haystack…what they had called her…because her parents were dead. And they were now. She was queen. Queen.
She looked at Phillip, who gave her a sad smile and the straight-backed bow royalty gave those of higher rank.
She swallowed hard.
Forget the word, she told herself. She had to act like a queen.
“Maleficent killed them and is more powerful. Like she did Lady Astrid. Does she…She then takes something from them. Their blood. In her staff? I saw but didn’t quite understand….”
The blue one nodded.
“She took my parents’ blood…and used it…” the princess repeated, feeling the first stirrings of anger.
“You shall have your vengeance,” the red one said grimly.
The green one shook her head sadly. “Vengeance will not bring them back. Aurora Rose was on the cusp of meeting her mother and father, from whom she was separated for sixteen years. It is a miracle that even this memory of them still exists. She will never be able to talk to them, blame them, learn from them, hate them, or love them for themselves now. She can only deal with the results of their actions.”
The red one shrugged. “Vengeance might make her feel better.”
“Also, it would wake everyone up,” the blue one pointed out brightly. “A win all around.”
“Show a little compassion!” the green one hissed.
Now the blue one shrugged. “Not my thing. That’s all you. I’m here to strategize.”
Aurora Rose looked back and forth among the three women, gladly distracted from the sad events by the puzzle before her. The fairies in real life had their own personalities, of course, despite their superficial similarities as ageless, chatty, loving aunt figures. Flora tended to try to lead and made decisions for them. Merryweather seemed to understand the basic workings of the world better, although she rarely acted on this knowledge and instead chose to comment snarkily on it. Sometimes she got sneaky and went behind Flora’s back. Fauna was the one who hugged the princess the most and often acted as an intermediary between the other two.
The green one, “Fauna,” seemed more concerned with how Aurora Rose was feeling—how everyone was feeling. She was the one who had been waiting outside the cottage for the prince and princess. Like she was the one who cared.
And the blue one—“Merryweather”—seemed incredibly quick-minded and brilliant. And even snarkier.
“Flora” was brave and powerful and ready to plunge into any physical combat. And not for nothing, she was built like a gladiator.
They were all acting like extreme versions of their real selves.
What did it mean?
She found herself drifting to the window. As she suspected, it did not look out on the lands beyond the outer wall. It was the view from her room in the cottage in the forest: apple trees where birds nested and squirrels scampered, birch trees whose golden leaves lit up the meadow in fall, a corner of the tiny kitchen garden the aunts tended. A peaceful scene that combined wild and tamed nature in a way that was so familiar it hurt.
“I’m…never coming back here in real life, am I?”
The three women looked at her sadly.
“Probably not, child,” the green one said. “Or not for a long time.”
“With your parents dead and no male heir, there will be a terrible mess when you all wake up,