After dinner that evening, Ellie visited the unicorns at the maternity barn. The mother unicorn, whose name, Miria told her, was Ulrica, was genuinely pleased to see her. Ellie held a strange one-sided-yet-not conversation with Ulrica. Each time she spoke to the creature, Ellie understood her better. Whether this was the unicorn’s magic or her own, she wasn’t sure. Ulrica clearly asked if she was certain the Gamekeeper did not prey on unicorns and other magical creatures. Ellie, while stroking baby Ulfr’s fluffy mane, assured his mother that the Gamekeeper kept cinder sprites, imps, and unicorns safe at his hidden home, along with other, stranger creatures. For so she had heard from reliable sources.
Not until she was walking home did doubt begin to plague her mind. She had never seen this reserve for magical beasts. Was it real? Or . . . what if all this time she had been sending innocent creatures to feed a monster’s appetite? But then, the elder sprite had trusted him, and the dwarfs and brownies did as well. These misgivings only ever troubled her when he was not around.
And then, to top off this troubling day, a shadowy figure waited outside her cottage door. “Who is there?” she asked sharply, sensing waves of animosity and a hint of magic.
“Where have you been?” a voice inquired, frightening in its way but a relief nonetheless.
“Good evening, Madame Genevieve. Welcome back. I assume you must know about the unicorns,” Ellie said quietly. “I was visiting them.”
After a pause, the director said bluntly, “You are aware that staff members may not attend resort dances.”
“I am well aware, Madame. Is . . . is anything wrong?”
“Many things are wrong,” the woman snapped. “Do not add to the injustice and chaos by presuming on the fleeting interest of a foolish young prince. Remember your place.”
She walked past Ellie toward the castle, a stiffly upright and strangely pathetic figure.
Ellie unlocked her door with a wave of her hand, closed it behind her, and leaned against it, breathing hard to repress fear, anger, and intense sorrow. Hearing welcoming squeaks from her bedroom, she hurried there and spent the next hour seated on her bed, watching greens disappear into puckered little mouths and enjoying the company of two furry and uncomplicated companions.
Out on the lake again the next afternoon, Ellie sent her scooter bumping over choppy waves, relishing the cleansing wind and cold spray in her face. Ahead and to her right, she glimpsed spiny loops above the surface. Grinning, she slowed and shouted, “Ahoy there, my serpentine friend. Are you racing with me?”
A familiar weedy head appeared, showing its array of dagger teeth. The serpent made a strange sound, rather like a croupy cough, and its head, followed by yards of thick body, rose high above the waves then arced toward Ellie, passing over her head then down into the lake. Water poured over her as the serpent’s entire length passed overhead, but she merely laughed and turned in a small circle within the arch, making her own whirlpool.
“Showoff,” she shouted.
As the last of the serpent disappeared, the end of its tail wagged briefly. Ellie waved back, suspecting the monster watched her from underwater. Then she drove on. Who would have imagined that such a nightmare-looking creature would enjoy playing games?
A short time later she recognized Omar’s friend Tor standing alone on the shore, apparently watching a family of ducks. She let her scooter drift in close and called, “Hello, Lord Magnussen. Are you feeling well?”
She saw her reflection in his sunglasses. His face was expressionless.
“Why would I not feel well? Do I know you?”
Ellie sensed a tangle of frustration and animosity in the man, though his emotions seemed general, not aimed at her.
There was no reason not to tell him. “I’m the lifeguard who pulled you off the island the other day,” she said. She did back her scooter off slightly. He was very tall and built like a swimmer. There was no sense in taking chances.
“I see.” His tone was flat. “What was I doing there?” He sounded cynical.
Ellie spoke without thinking first. “You were standing in the lagoon, talking with a siren.”
He didn’t move, but she sensed a change. He was suddenly alert, focused, though still sarcastic. “I was talking with a siren? I thought sirens only lured men to ruin then spurned them.”
He was some distance away from her, yet as she listened to his voice and studied his face, she sensed a spell on him of a kind she had never seen before. “Not that siren,” Ellie said. “She seemed devastated when I took you away.”
There was no magic in her voice, yet her words paralyzed the man. After a long silence, he turned back to the ducks and said no more.
Ellie drove away, wondering if she really knew much about sirens. Or men.
At dinner that evening, she sat with her friends, but her thoughts were far away. Every time she’d glimpsed Omar in the past few days, he’d been in the company of a different girl, playing what seemed to Ellie like every sport or game the resort offered. The man was in perpetual motion from sunrise to sunset, and she was sure he had worked hard to avoid catching her eye.
“Ellie’s not listening anymore,” Savannah said with a sigh.
“She never does.” Kerry Jo picked up her tray. “All she thinks about is her cutie-pie prince.”
“Whatever.” Jeralee stood up too. “Come watch the volleyball tournament with us, Ellie?”
“Not tonight,” Ellie replied. “But thanks.” The last thing she needed was to bump into Omar in the company of yet another hopeful princess. She ducked out of the cafeteria, took a back door out of the castle, and hurried to her cabin alone with tears streaming down her face. Laughter and voices drifted from the shore, where happy guests gathered to watch beach volleyball and enjoy bonfires.
Hours later, alone in bed with only two sleeping sprites nearby for company, Ellie struggled to fall asleep. Even though the “cutie-pie prince” had been scrupulously following her orders, she punched her pillow in effigy then blamed it for keeping her awake.
It was late morning Friday—the day before the Summer Ball. Ellie had just delivered additional lemonade for a children’s birthday party going on at the beach and was cutting across the lawn near the lakeshore, when she heard someone call her name. “Ellie, wait!”
Glancing back, she saw Yasmine and Rafiq racing toward her. “Didn’t you see us at the party? We waved, but you wouldn’t look our way,” Yasmine said, panting as she wrapped Ellie in a damp, sandy hug.
“I’m sorry, I was thinking of other things,” Ellie admitted. Guessing the Zeidan children would be at the party, she had tried to sneak in and out without being seen. The last thing she needed just then was more guilt about Omar. She already felt tears pressing at the backs of her eyes. One little nudge could open the floodgates.
“Omar is really sad,” Yasmine told her. “I asked him why, but he wouldn’t say. Would you talk to him, Ellie? He always seems happy when he is with you.”
“The happiest ever,” Rafiq added rather aggressively. He stood apart, arms folded across his chest.
Ellie swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about your brother, but I don’t think I could cheer him up. He needs to find his own happiness. Besides, I’ve glimpsed him a few times these past few days, and he looked happy to me.” Heartbreakingly so, in fact.
“You don’t see him when no one’s around,” Rafiq said, almost growling. “He pretends to have fun when he’s with people. When he thinks no one’s looking, he stops faking.”
Yasmine added, “Sometimes his eyes are all red, and he hardly talks to us anymore.”
“Is he drinking?” Ellie asked in concern.
Rafiq gave her a scornful glare. “Omar? Duh! He is crying, Ellie. Because you don’t talk to him anymore.”
Feeling thoroughly chastised, Ellie apologized. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to hurt him, but . . . It’s an impossible situation.”
“Because our parents won’t let him marry you,” Rafiq said. “I’m not stupid. I know what’s been going on. But just yesterday Omar told me he won’t marry anyone else.” He grabbed Yasmine by the hand. “C’mon. She doesn’t care.”
Yasmine looked back over her shoulder as Rafiq dragged her away. Her sorrowful, accusing eyes haunted Ellie throughout the day. A deep loneliness weighted her heart. The more she was around laughing, chattering people, the lonelier she felt.
True to his word, the Gamekeeper sent her a message that afternoon: He would arrive early in the morning to collect the sprites, and the unicorns as well if the mother wished to see the reserve.
Ellie immediately walked to the maternity barn and found Ulrica waiting for her. The unicorn sent waves of polite welcome and glowed brightly in the dim barn. Ellie would have loved to touch the beautiful creature but knew such liberties would be inappropriate.
As yet, Ulfr cared nothing for his dignity. He bleated and capered around the stall then butted his stubby horn into Ellie’s leg and looked up at her with liquid-dark eyes. She petted him for as long as he would endure, and when he scampered off again, she turned to his mother. “The Gamekeeper will arrive early tomorrow. Do you wish to travel over the mountain pass to see the reserve?”
Ulrica answered in her wordless language that she was willing to go if Ellie came with them.
Ellie nodded. “I will come.” Being far away on the day of the Summer Ball sounded ideal.
Her next stop was the director’s office. The door was ajar, so she knocked then peered in. Madame looked up from her desk, and her already hard expression turned to slate. “What is it? I am busy.”
“I need to inform you that tomorrow morning I will travel with the unicorns to the Gamekeeper’s reserve. Ulrica has agreed to go as long as I go with them, and the Gamekeeper has given me permission.”
Madame’s green eyes seethed with scorn. “If you are foolish enough to go there, I will not stop you.”
“Thank you” hardly seemed appropriate, but it was the only response Ellie could produce.
As she withdrew, the director added, “You are wise, no doubt, to be far away when the Khenifran prince’s betrothal is announced.”
The Gamekeeper arrived before dawn. Ellie heard the wagon arrive on the service road and hurried to open her door. For some reason, today when the Gamekeeper’s indistinct figure appeared from the darkness, a shiver ran down her spine. To conceal her reaction, she spoke with forced cheerfulness. “The sprite cages are here by the door. I’ll help you load them before I bring out my things.”
“You are coming?” The deep voice sounded surprised.
“Oh. Yes. I forgot to send you a message, didn’t I?” Ellie’s uneasiness increased. “I remembered to tell Madame but not you. I’m so sorry! Ulrica said she and Ulfr would go to the refuge if I came too. Do you . . . May I still come along?”
“You may.” He stood there on her walkway, and she sensed that he was tentatively pleased. His uncertainty increased her courage. A little.
Ellie picked up a few cages and stepped outside. “I’ll wait to load them until you show me where they go.” She bravely walked past him and approached the wagon. It was hitched to strange creatures she could neither name nor fully perceive, creatures that seemed to gaze at her with luminous yellow eyes. Thinking back, she could not recall ever noticing any creatures hitched to the Gamekeeper’s wagon. Yet always she had known it was a wagon, not a car or truck.
Not until the sprites in the cages she held began to crackle did Ellie realize she was shaking. Immediately she took a deep breath and spoke soothingly. “The Gamekeeper is good to all creatures, little ones. You needn’t be afraid. I am traveling with you this time, and once we arrive, you will meet many more sprites and live in comfort for always.”
The sprites yawned and squeaked sleepily. For once, her comforting words had calmed her own heart as well, and by the time the Gamekeeper approached she was able to speak to him normally.
“You have two sprites in a back room,” he said. “Are they coming or staying?”
“They’re coming with me,” Ellie said. “I’ll bring them.”
Somehow, having those two little sprites along for the ride was a comforting idea. Their single cage was easy to carry, so Ellie picked up her backpack on her way out the door. Sparki and Frosti squeaked questions as she walked back to the vehicle. “We’re going for a ride, little ones,” she said softly, “to visit friends. And if you like it there, you can stay.”
As she approached the wagon, her feet stopped moving. Sprite cages filled its bed, though she had no memory of the Gamekeeper carrying or loading any. She could not recall loading the first two she’d carried out. And now Frosti and Sparki peered at her from their cage directly behind the seat, next to her backpack. Her hands were empty.
So . . . the Gamekeeper truly did not enter her house when he collected sprite cages. Somehow this evidence of his truthfulness and respect for her privacy gave her courage to climb up on the seat beside him for the short ride to the stables. Again, he seemed mildly pleased but made no attempt to engage her in conversation.
Ellie tried not to notice the shadowy creatures pulling the van, and she almost succeeded. Part of her thought she might wake up any minute now and laugh at the bizarre dream she’d been having.
When they arrived at the stables, the Gamekeeper climbed down and walked to the back of the wagon . . . only now it was a van. Sprite cages filled a flatbed area behind the seat, but the rest of the vehicle was enclosed. The Gamekeeper opened the van, lowered its ramp, and instructed Ellie how to close it once the unicorns were inside. She followed his instructions, now nearly certain she was dreaming this entire adventure. Everything about it felt surreal.
“I will keep my distance from the unicorns until Ulrica is used to the idea of me,” the Gamekeeper said humbly. “Once we are at the reserve, the other unicorns will ease her remaining fears.”
So Ellie entered the maternity barn alone. Miria and Howurl greeted her at the door, their mournful faces even longer than usual. “The unicorns are ready to go,” Miria said, “but how we shall miss them!”
Even Howurl mumbled something about sadness and lonely. Ellie smiled, sensing his genuine affection for the lovely creatures. The brownies seemed real enough, and the stable smells were familiar and comforting. Maybe she was awake, after all?
The stall door was wide open, yet Ulrica and Ulfr waited at its threshold, their bodies and horns gleaming like starlight. Ulrica’s glow dimmed briefly as she asked where the Gamekeeper was.
“He said he will keep his distance until you are used to him,” Ellie explained. “I think he will allow the other unicorns to convince you of his goodness.”
Ulrica bobbed her head up and down, waving that sharp horn about like a sword. Ellie clearly understood that Ulrica did not fear for herself, only for Ulfr. “I believe the Gamekeeper understands your feelings as well as I do,” Ellie told the devoted mother.
She stood aside as Miria and Howurl made their farewells to the unicorns, speaking in a language she couldn’t find words to describe. Then she led the unicorns to the van and explained how it would close up around them, leaving space above the ramp for air to flow. “You will be able to see the stars as we travel.”
Ulrica paused, gazing toward the front of the vehicle, then led her son up the ramp and settled down on the bed of fresh straw in the spacious interior. She told Ellie that the pookas assured her of the Gamekeeper’s goodness, so Ellie should not worry. Ulfr obediently lay down beside his mother, but his wide eyes sparkled with excitement.
Pookas, Ellie thought. Pookas pulled the van. How very strange. Still moving in this dream-world of reality, she climbed up on the wagon seat and found the Gamekeeper already there. He seemed nearly as shadowy as the pookas.
Ellie reached back with one hand to touch the sprite cages and took comfort from a duet of quiet squeaks and puffs. Lately it seemed that instead of her giving comfort to cinder sprites, they more often soothed her.
“They often soothe me as well,” the Gamekeeper said, though she had not spoken a word. “I hope you may enjoy this trip, Miss Calmer. You will come to no harm and may, perhaps, find the help you need.”
Ellie settled back on the bench, ready to begin. Only to realize that the wagon-van was already moving along a mountain trail. She hadn’t noticed when it started moving, let alone when it left Faraway Castle behind. A thrilling blend of fear and excitement swept over her at the prospect of traveling over the mountain pass in the company of this strange, mysterious being. More accurately, in the company of several strange, mysterious beings. Anyone would prefer such an adventure to a silly dance. Firmly she told herself that she didn’t want to go to the Summer Ball anyway.
Only to realize with horror that she had spoken the words out loud.