Morning arrived far too early. Ellie lay in bed, remembering everything, dreading the day ahead. A familiar sound greeted her ears: the squeak of cinder sprites. A moment passed before she remembered she hadn’t trapped any sprites since the Gamekeeper’s visit. Her eyes popped open, possibilities rushing through her mind. Yesterday’s rain would have driven sprites all over the resort into cover; she was likely to receive a message, or several, from the castle at any time. But the sprites she heard were inside her cottage; she was sure of it.
And they sounded hungry.
She popped out of bed, dressed in a clean coverall, and slipped on her glass shoes and her gloves. There should be fresh kale and collard greens in her refrigerator, and the Gamekeeper had left a supply of empty cages. With spray bottle in hand, she slipped out of her bedroom and surveyed the small living area. Two sprites scampered into view, one chasing the other, oblivious to her presence. They were not much larger than her fist and quick on their little feet. One was solid red, the other white with black ears, nose, and feet, and their hair was long and straight, parted down the middle and flowing behind them. They looked like animated wigs but for their spiraled horns. In her three years of working with cinder sprites, Ellie had only ever seen one quite like them.
“Good morning, babies,” she crooned, and filled the air with her soothing spray. The sprites paused, sniffing the air. Their squeaks softened in tone, and she heard little puffs of happiness. With any luck, she could trap them without ember incident.
She collected two cages and a handful of greens, then approached the tiny pair, who crouched in the open space between a chair and the small entry area, their little noses and ears twitching. “You might just be the cutest sprites I have ever seen,” she told them, pouring on the charm. “You remind me of a sprite I met years ago.” Slowly she set the cages on the floor then knelt. Their large black eyes studied her. Cinder sprites, though sentient, were generally not the brightest of creatures, but Ellie suspected she was being evaluated by sharp little minds.
Suddenly, so quickly that Ellie flinched, the white sprite trotted forward and hopped into her lap, puffing in a friendly manner. It nibbled at a zipper-pull on her pocket, then looked up into her face. Waves of trust and expectation flowed toward her. Ellie melted and offered the little creature a sprig of kale.
Soon she sat cross-legged on the floor with a sprite on each leg, both squeaking contentedly and munching on greens. She could only shake her head in wonder at their lack of fear. Had these two been living in her house unnoticed while she cared for the captive sprites? What had they lived on? She kept hay in a bin near the door, and pieces often dropped unnoticed while she cared for her little prisoners. Or the tiny intruders might have sneaked in and out through whatever entry point they had discovered.
Perhaps she could keep these two around for a time. The Gamekeeper allowed her to use discernment about allowing sprites demonstrating intelligence and restraint to remain in the castle gardens. Over the years she had released fewer than twenty, but those sprites never entered a human dwelling again, and she occasionally sighted them in the gardens.
Sprites were good company, and she always missed the cheery squeaks after the Gamekeeper visited and carried her captives away. She stroked the red one with the tip of her finger, and it made a little purring sound. These two fearless furballs were in no danger of going ember. “You two remind me very much of Starfire, the royal elder sprite. He had long hair like yours. Is he your father?”
The white sprite looked up, directly into her eyes, and gave a cheery squeak. Ellie grinned. That was a yes. Somehow these two seemed able to communicate emotion to her, much as the unicorn did. Cinder sprites were magical beings, but some of them, such as the elder sprite, had more control of their magic than others. Ellie shook her head. The complexities of the magic world seemed endless. Even her tutor Arabella still had much to learn.
Three years ago, cinder sprites had begun to appear on Faraway Castle property, triggering fear in resident pixies who believed (for no logical reason) that sprites threatened their food supply and homes. A group of pixies had begun threatening and frightening sprites in the attempt to eliminate them, for once a sprite burst into flame it would burn until it died.
That crisis had been the impetus for Ellie’s promotion from ordinary worker to Controller of Magical Creatures, a position created for her by the Gamekeeper himself, much to the director’s disgust. Ellie could trap most small magical beings who caused problems for the resort, but pixies had proven uniquely resistant to her magic. The elder sprite Starfire was the Gamekeeper’s provision for pixie-protection for sprites and humans alike. Ellie had met the large, dignified sprite only once, but she knew he must still be around, for she seldom glimpsed pixies anymore, and cinder sprites were thriving. Ellie prided herself on her part in bringing these charming creatures back from the brink of self-extinction, for her herbal spray combined with her magic was the only known means of saving a sprite once it had “gone ember.”
Before Ellie left for work, the two sprites were comfortably settled in a cage on her chest of drawers. With hay for bedding (and snacks) a generous supply of fresh greens, and a tube and a few balls for entertainment, they frolicked happily and even groomed Ellie’s fingers with tiny pink tongues when she reached in to pet them.
Her prospects suddenly looked much brighter. She had a purpose in the world, a niche no royal princess could fill, no matter how blue her blood. Perspective was a wonderful thing.
Ellie worked that morning in the gardens with Rosa until a sprite event in a castle storeroom interrupted her tree-trimming. She handled everything with calm expertise and welcomed the emergency. She was professional. She was independent. She was impervious.
Until she carried a stack of cages through the side garden gate and heard running feet and a chorus of happy cries: “Ellie! Miss Ellie, did you catch more cinder sprites?”
Ellie stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes, and dammed up the rush of emotion threatening to flood her soul. Then she turned to smile at the Zeidan children. “I did! A whole family of them. One with tiny babies.”
The children clustered around her, the two youngest hopping up and down on the service road, all talking at once. “Ellie, why haven’t you been at the lake? Ellie, we miss you! Ellie, may I hold one? Ellie . . .”
She set down the cages and distributed hugs all around. Even Rafiq accepted one. “I have missed you too, my dears. Have you been at the beach today?”
“We were going there,” he said, “but then Nanny had a headache and wanted a nap, so Omar said we could come and watch him play tennis—there’s a playground right by the courts—so that’s what we’re doing now.”
Ellie gave Rafiq a level look. “You are watching Omar play tennis?” She glanced around. “Some kind of new magical ability?”
Rafiq rolled his eyes. “The courts are right over there. We saw you, and . . .” He shrugged, then picked up two sprite cages. “We came to help.”
Explanation finished.
“Omar won’t mind,” Yasmine said. “He misses you too. He said so.”
The children knew nothing about the unicorn expedition or its aftermath, of course. “Why don’t you play with him?” Rita asked, hopping around Ellie’s legs.
“Tennis, you mean? I have to work,” Ellie said. “Tell you what. You all can help me carry the cinder sprites to my cottage, and then I’ll walk you back to the tennis courts. And we’ll hope Omar doesn’t notice you’re missing.”
The children all agreed and rushed through the gate and the garden, then into the castle through a service door to collect cages. “We could help you in the garden too,” Yasmine suggested.
“Thank you for the offer, but maybe another time,” Ellie said, stacking two more cages atop the two already in Rafiq’s arms. This sprite catch had been her largest yet: twelve, counting the litter of new babies. Once the children were loaded down with cages—Rita carrying only one but intensely proud and careful of her burden—they all trooped down the garden path, through the gate, along the service road, then through the strip of pines into the staff living quarters.
Seeing Ellie’s home was a huge thrill for Rita and Karim, who tested every chair and searched her refrigerator. She allowed them to distribute carrots to the sprites, who perked up immediately. Three were still recovering from effects of going ember, but the others puffed and squeaked and munched. The children squeaked back to them, and a loud chorus soon filled the cottage.
Ellie offered the children apples, the only snack she had on hand, but while she was searching the refrigerator, two children disappeared. Rafiq and Karim accepted their apples and explained that the girls had gone exploring. Hearing cries of delight from her bedroom, Ellie knew she’d been found out.
Rita ran into the living room, her face glowing. “You have two sprites in your room—cutest ever!”
Naturally, the boys needed to see for themselves, and Ellie was hard put to explain why these two sprites were not stacked with the others. The sprites put their paws up on the glass walls and greeted the children with happy squeaks. “May we hold them?” Yasmine inquired. “They don’t look at all frightened.”
Ellie couldn’t argue. If the sprites didn’t mind this much hopping and squealing from the children, they were unlikely to object to being held. She told the children to sit in a circle on the floor, then set the two sprites in the round space. “You can offer them bites of your apples,” she suggested. “I’m out of carrots.”
The red baby climbed immediately into Karim’s lap, to his delight. “What are their names?” he asked. “This one should be Sparky. He looks like fire even when he’s not burning.”
“She,” Ellie corrected. “They are both girls. But Sparky is a fine name.”
“We could spell it with an i,” Yasmine suggested. She lured the white sprite into her lap with a chunk of apple. “And this one should be Frosti. She is so pretty!”
Rafiq and Rita soon demanded their turns, and the sisters Frosti and Sparki were shuffled about by small hands without a hint of distress, answering to their names within moments. Ellie could only watch and wonder. She sensed nothing but contentment and pleasure from the little creatures.
But soon she had to break up the party. “Your brother might be looking for you by now,” she reminded them. “Better put Sparki and Frosti back into their cage.”
Rafiq and Yasmine claimed that privilege, and soon the sprites dined on apple cores, puffing and chirping their delight.
“Goodbye, babies,” said Rita, waving at them through the glass.
“Goodbye, Sparki and Frosti,” the others chorused.
Ellie steered her companions outside, privately thinking they were harder to herd than wild cinder sprites. “I don’t want to go back to the tennis courts,” Rita whined. “It’s boring there. Can’t we stay with you, Ellie?”
“How about we hop there like cinder sprites?” Ellie suggested, hoping to avert a storm. Taking Rita and Karim each by the hand, she began to hop and skip forward. They both joined in, and Yasmine took Rita’s other hand to make a chain. At first Rafiq abstained, walking apart from the group and looking scornful. But he could not bear to be left out for long, and soon grabbed Karim’s hand and took over the lead. Soon they were all running and skipping—and Rita’s feet sometimes left the ground for several paces.
“Slow down now,” Ellie ordered, fearing someone would fall. They arrived at the playground still in a chain but back to walking and hopping in a more controlled manner.
“Will you swing with me, please, please, please?” Rita begged, tugging on Ellie’s hand, her big dark eyes pleading. Karim joined in, and the double dose of cuteness overcame Ellie’s defenses. She found herself swinging on the playground between Rita and Karim, and unable to avoid watching the tennis match on the courts opposite.
Naturally, Omar looked amazing in white tennis attire, as did his partner, an athletic girl Ellie didn’t recognize. They played against Briar and the pretty daughter of a nobleman from up north somewhere. And Ellie squirmed and burned with envy. She was good at tennis. She could have returned a serve Omar’s partner missed. She . . . was only tormenting herself.
“Watch this, Ellie!” Rafiq did a handstand and turned it into a back flip, landing perfectly.
“Wow! That’s impressive,” she said honestly. Rafiq was small for his age but nimble and strong. In height he was unlikely to catch up with Omar, who was tallest of the brothers so far. Maybe Karim would be tall like Omar someday . . .
Why did everything always come back to Omar? She could never forget him while socializing with his family. Did she even want to forget him?
“I need to get back to work now,” she said, dragging her feet to slow the swing. Her glass shoes filled with sand.
While she paused to empty them, Yasmine said, “Hello Omar! We found Ellie!”
How did he get here so fast? Ellie wondered in frustration. The tennis game must have ended while she was feeling sorry for herself.
“So I see. I wondered where you’d run off to.” Omar did not sound pleased.
“We got to feed baby cinder sprites,” Rita told him, trying to slow her swing with legs that barely reached the ground. Omar caught it by the chains to keep her from falling. Ellie didn’t dare look up.
“Hello, Ellie!” a cheery voice called.
She lifted her head to return Briar’s greeting. He strolled across the grass, sweaty yet dapper in his tennis whites. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said.
He shook his head, amused. “Please call me Briar. We’re friends.”
“All right, Briar,” she said, unable to resist his casual charm. Omar stood at the swing beside her, brushing sand from Rita’s hair. “Good morning, Omar,” Ellie said quietly. If only they could establish an easy friendship! But could that even be possible when her heart reacted so strongly to his presence? Maybe time would ease the pain.
“Good morning. Thank you for bringing the children back.” He spoke without looking at her. She had never before seen his face so devoid of expression.
“Ellie,” said Briar, “do you have a moment to talk? I need to discuss something with you.”
“I must report to the lake soon for my afternoon shift,” she said. “After a bite of lunch.”
“May I walk you to the castle?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ll need to stop by my cottage for my gear first.” She hugged the protesting children goodbye and promised to see them again soon. Omar stood by, obviously trying not to watch and failing. His palpable hurt tore at her heart, but what could she do?
Briar spun his tennis racket and said nothing as they walked away from the playground. Only when well out of earshot did he comment. “Now, that was awkward. I won’t butt in on your business, but I do want you to know that you needn’t dread romantic overtures from me. Aside from a fundamental barrier between us, romance is impossible for me because I am on a . . . a quest, of sorts. As in, I am more-or-less committed.”
“More-or-less committed sounds enduring,” she observed. Was Omar the “fundamental barrier,” or did he refer to their unequal stations in life?
“Ye-e-es, well. Even if I were an eligible suitor, I would never jeopardize centuries of peace between Auvers and Khenifra.”
Ellie looked up sharply. “What?”
At first glance his expression was grave, but those intense eyes held a wicked twinkle. “My charming country excels at producing wine and romance. Military power, not so much. Khenifra would annihilate us on the battlefield as easily as a certain prince trounced another prince on the tennis court. I might stand a chance one-on-one with sabers or pistols, but on the whole, I hold with peaceful international negotiations.”
Ellie couldn’t repress a smile. “You are incorrigible.”
“So I am frequently informed.” One side of his mouth curled upward. “I wish you and Omar nothing but joy,” he said plainly. “He is a good man. One of the best I’ve ever met. Maybe even good enough for you.”
Ellie stiffened. “What did you wish to ask me?” she said as they approached her cottage.
“Before I get into that—Have you seen Tor?”
“No, I’ve been crazy-busy today. Is he back?”
“They say he was here yesterday, but I haven’t seen him. The director returned last night, but no word about what happened.”
“It is very strange.” Conversation paused while Ellie collected her lake gear. Maybe she should ask the Gamekeeper; he probably knew all about the siren situation.
When she emerged from her room, Briar was studying the sprite cages in her sitting room. “How do you bear the noise they make?”
“I like it,” she admitted. “They’re good company.”
“If you say so.” He followed her back outside into bright sunlight, and they headed for the castle. “I’ll have to talk fast. Ellie, how long have you worked here at the Faraway Castle?”
“This is my seventh summer, why?” She disliked his slightly interrogating tone.
“And where did you live before you came here?”
Ellie spoke and walked quickly. “I lived with the burva Arabella. She is better known as the Mountain Witch, but she hates that name. Arabella is cranky and peculiar, but she seeks only to help people.” She knew she sounded defensive but couldn’t help it. “She’s always telling me to be kind and considerate and to look out for the interests of others.”
“And she trained you to use your magic abilities?”
Ellie nodded then reconsidered. “Well, mainly she taught me how to mix herbal balms and potions, such as I use with the cinder sprites and other small creatures.”
“How long have you lived with her?
Ellie felt her defenses rising. “For a long time. Why do you want to know all this?”
“Trust me, it is important in a good way. Do you know your parents, your family?”
She stopped in her tracks. “How is this your business, Your Highness?”
He winced. “Back to titles again? I apologize, Ellie, but time is growing short. Please tell me, do you remember anything about your life before you lived with the burva Arabella?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “No. I don’t.” His gaze held hers, and she suddenly felt panic rise in her throat, stopping her breath. Terror filled her mind—flashing glimpses of huge talons, feathers, whirling depths—then blackness.
When Ellie’s awareness returned, she was seated at a picnic table on the lawn beside the lake. She lifted her head from her arms and met Briar’s concerned gaze across the table. “How long was I out?” she whispered.
“About five minutes. We’ve attracted some attention, but I chased people off. Great way to start new rumors.”
Ellie couldn’t respond to his humor. “Now you know my secret.”
“Not really. Either your memory has been wiped or your brain has blocked out something frightening. Neither would be your fault, Ellie.” He patted her hand. “I don’t expect you to talk to me, but it might be a good idea to tell someone everything you do remember and see if the rest won’t come back to you.” He sat back on the bench. “Meanwhile, you might want to head to the lake before you’re late for work. I’ll bring you a sack lunch, all right?”
She nodded, feeling grateful and somehow relieved.