Page 36 of Ellie and the Prince
Omar swallowed hard, his heart thudding painfully. “Ellie, I . . .”
“I know that you think you care for me, Omar, but you love your family so much. Think of the heartbreak to your parents and your darling little brothers and sisters! You could never . . .Icould never do that to them! Besides, Madame would never hire you at the castle and insult your parents.”
“Then I will get a position somewhere else—” He reached toward her, but she pushed his hands away and took a step back.
“You hardly know me, and you cannot destroy your own future for my sake.” Her voice cracked, and he saw tears spill down her cheeks. Again he tried to speak, but she rushed on. “I care too much for you to let you ruin your life for a summer romance, Omar. You are the most wonderful man I have ever, ever known, and I want you to live the life you deserve.” Her voice caught on a sob as she backed away from him. “Please forget me and move on.”
Just as she opened her door, he stepped forward, holding out her pack. As she lowered her eyes and took it, he said, “Never, Ellie.” He spoke quietly, but he knew she heard him. “There will never be anyone but you.”
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 ayes.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.
