Page 42 of Ellie and the Prince
During the awkward pause following her declaration, Ellie sensed sympathy and hesitance from her companion. At last he spoke: “We have a long journey ahead, Miss Calmer. Perhaps voicing your frustrations and experiences will help you to better understand them. I would be honored to listen.”
And somehow Ellie found herself pouring out everything, from her longtime crush on Prince Omar and the lemonade disaster to the cinder sprites in his bedroom and the past few days of separation and hurt. She even told about Prince Briar and her frightening and inexplicable reaction to his questions. No detail remained unspoken; never before had Ellie encountered such deep empathy and interest.
When her tale ended, she sensed that the Gamekeeper was pondering her tale, but she could not guess which aspect of it caught his attention. He spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. “Your magical gifts have expanded significantly in the past week, I believe.”
Ellie considered this idea and realized he spoke the truth. “I think you’re right, but I don’t know how or why this is so.”
“Although I believe contact with the lake serpent and sirens contributed to your growth, most likely your interactions with the unicorn are the main catalyst. The desire to communicate with Ulrica motivated you to exercise and expand your inherent abilities. I wonder if you might use this newly discovered insight to explore your own memory and emotions. Tell me what you know about your childhood, about whatever brought you to Arabella.”
“Do you know her?” Ellie asked in surprise.
“We have met.” She could sense no emotion in his voice or manner.
“I was a child when I came to her house,” she began. “Arabella told me I simply appeared one day on her doorstep. I was traumatized, she believed, and fear had erased or blocked out memory of my entire past. She quickly discovered I had magical ability so trained me extensively in herb lore and the basic use of my voice to soothe creatures. Always she emphasized the importance of kindness, of using my limited powers for the good of other creatures.”
“Why do you describe your powers as limited?”
“Many creatures are able to block them.”
“Your powers are greater than you believe them to be,” the Gamekeeper responded in a rumbling tone. Ellie blinked in surprise. Could it beamusementshe heard in his voice?
“You were not left on Arabella’s doorstep by chance or error,” he continued. “The flashback you experienced yesterday revealed important facts.” He paused, then said, “I know someone who might shed light on your past. But we have other things to accomplish first today.”
As soon as the Gamekeeper spoke, the van passed through huge iron gates set in a stone wall. Ellie sat forward and gaped, aware at last of her surroundings. The wheels of the van seemed to skim the ground rather than roll, for it traveled with impossible speed and smoothness. Wild forestland swept past, then broad green meadows, then hillsides, lakes, and chattering streams. Ahead, perched on the side of the mountain, with the sweeps of meadow and forest before it and a cliff at its back, she saw a magnificent castle. Not a fortress of war or practical manor house, but a fantastical golden palace of spires and pinnacles and balconies and sparkling windows, all drawing closer at a dizzying rate.
The van swept around a circular drive and stopped smoothly before a broad stone staircase leading to tall double doors. Ellie gripped the bench seat with both hands and stared, still open-mouthed, as the doors opened wide . . . and no one emerged.
“If you will help release the unicorns, my servants will then care for your needs and wishes. I shall join you for luncheon in a few hours.” The Gamekeeper offered her a huge gloved hand, and Ellie allowed him to help her down. He then swept her an elegant bow and stepped out of sight. Where and how, she could not tell. Just as she could not perceive the pookas, though evidence of their existence was undeniable, so she could not understand how the Gamekeeper could walk away invisibly.
But she had a job to do. Giving her head a little shake, she took control of her rubbery legs and walked to the rear of the van. Quickly she lowered the ramp and saw the unicorns standing ready.
Ulrica sucked in deep draughts of clear mountain air, and Ellie clearly heard the unicorn’s heart sing for joy: This is our true home! Ulfr tried to hide behind his mother’s legs, but curiosity compelled him to stare out at this enormous new world. Soon his little legs straightened, and his head lifted high, nostrils quivering.
Ulrica filled her lungs and gave a bugling call, clearer than the purest notes ever produced by a trumpet. And Ellie heard a veritable concert in response. She turned to behold a company of unicorns ascending the slope of meadow, their bodies glistening in the sunlight, nearly too bright for Ellie’s eyes to bear. Ulrica and Ulfr trotted forward to meet their kin, and cries of rejoicing and reunion both silent and audible filled Ellie’s heart with joy. For Ulrica’s mate was there, a tall unicorn with a blue beard and glistening horn. He greeted his wife and son with joy and pride that sent tears streaming over Ellie’s cheeks.
Until she noticed, with some annoyance, that fingers were plucking at her sleeves. The servants! Curiosity turned her around to see . . . nothing. Sprite cages wafted across the courtyard, and her backpack floated up the stairs and through the open doorway.
She heaved a little sigh. Invisible and inaudible, no doubt. But perhaps she could sense their thoughts or emotions if she focused hard enough. Obeying the direction of those plucking hands, she followed her pack up the steps and into a hall so resplendent with gold, carvings, moldings, and works of art that her mind simply blended it all into one word: magnificent. The escort servants—she thought there were two, both female—led her through equally magnificent hallways and drawing rooms on the way to a much smaller yet comfortably luxurious suite of rooms, including a private bath with running water, hot and cold, and a huge canopied bed.
Bemused and tired, Ellie submitted to her invisible helpers with gratitude and fascination, even allowing them to undress and bathe her, wash and arrange her hair, and dress her in lace-and-silk undergarments and a lavender-scented morning gown in the style of a previous century. She spoke to them occasionally but mostly soaked in the luxury of being pampered like a princess. What manner of creature was the Gamekeeper, she wondered, that he would dwell in such a castle?
But she was reluctant to explore possibilities lest they disturb her enjoyment of the moment. After all, he had done nothing to deserve distrust and everything to earn her respect. She slept on the bed for what seemed like hours but could not have been long, for the clock on the mantel chimed noon just as the door opened and her servants returned.
Ellie slipped on her glass shoes, which seemed clunky with her frilly gown, and followed her attendants downstairs to a hall in which a great table had been set for luncheon. The Gamekeeper waited for her, standing behind a chair at the table’s far end. “You may choose any seat,” he said quietly. Since no other guests were in view, Ellie walked along the table and pulled out a chair a few settings away from him. She no longer feared her supervisor, yet she was more comfortable with some space between them.
Ellie did justice to the meal, talking all the while about her room and the servants and her impressions of the castle. The Gamekeeper asked leading questions, and she found herself telling more about her life at Faraway Castle, including her questions about Rosa’s secret ways, the director’s attitudes, and Briar’s confusing behavior. Afterward she could not recall whether the Gamekeeper had eaten anything.
Strange, how she felt so alive yet so immersed in unreality!
When she laid her fork on her plate and declared herself stuffed, the Gamekeeper said in his quiet way, “Would you like to see where your cinder sprites live?”
“Yes, very much!” A servant pulled out her chair as she rose, and her host politely offered his arm. She hesitated only an instant before laying her hand on his sleeve. “Thank you.” He now wore a cloak of deep blue velvet edged in ermine, and his large feet were clad in equally fine boots.
They passed through an outer door into the fresh summer day, then across a courtyard, past an ornate fountain, and into an outbuilding. “The sprites have indoor shelter as well as open land, but their habitat is entirely fenced to keep out predators. They do not multiply as rapidly as non-magical beasts of their size do, since they are sentient and mate for life. Most females birth only one or two litters.”
Ellie gazed in wonder at the low yet extensive shelters inhabited by dozens, even hundreds, of chirping, puffing, squeaking sprites. “Did all of these sprites come from Faraway Castle?”
“Most of them. A few traveled here and requested to be allowed in to join their families.”
