by J. M. Stengl
Gillian continued without pause: “But then Omar drew me up behind him on his horse, and I felt safe.” She cast an adoring gaze Omar’s way, but he was bent over, cleaning a rear hoof of the “horrid beast,” and didn’t seem to hear.
Lady Raquel told her to please be quiet, sounding even sharper than usual. “One would think you’d encountered a werewolf or dragon, the way you go on. It was only a unicorn, Gillian.”
A unicorn. They had encountered a unicorn on the mountain! Forgetting her pride, forgetting all else, Ellie hurried over to question the riders. “Please tell me about the unicorn. Where did you see it, and what did it do?” she asked, carefully keeping magic compulsion out of her voice.
The two girls stared at her.
“Where did you come from?” Raquel blurted.
Gillian looked her up and down. “You are always dirty. Why should we tell you anything, Cinder Ellie?”
Before Ellie could respond, the blond boy joined the group and answered her questions. “Gillian wasn’t jumping today, so she was on the bridle trail alongside the eighth jump, a double gate, when her horse shied and tossed her. I thought I saw something pale in the trees and rode closer to see.”
“Beside the eighth jump,” Ellie repeated. “Go on. What did you see that identified it as a unicorn?”
His brows jerked upward, but he continued: “It charged my horse then vanished behind a bush. Everything happened fast, but I remember the horn and the wild eyes.”
Raquel spoke directly to him, placing her shoulder between him and Ellie. “I thought it seemed lethargic for a unicorn, Your Highness,” she said. “I’ve seen one before. This one seemed slow.”
This blond boy was a prince? No wonder Raquel was being territorial.
“Nonsense,” Gillian snapped. “It was crazy and dangerous! It would have killed me if not for Omar.” She turned and again gazed toward Omar with dewy eyes. He rubbed down a tall bay mare, apparently oblivious to the entire conversation.
“All resort guests are given a button to push, on a wristband like this, if they’re ever threatened by a magical creature,” Ellie said firmly, displaying her receiver. “It transmits location. One of you should have thought to use it.”
“Is that what the wristband is for? I got one, but I left it in my room,” the prince confessed with an apologetic smile. “I’m new here. Sorry!”
“A stupid wristband wouldn’t have helped us fight off a crazed unicorn,” Gillian scoffed.
“I never wear mine,” Raquel added. “Unless it transforms into a magic sword for fighting off monsters, I don’t see the use.”
“Its use lies in bringing help to wherever the magic creature is.” Ellie stood firm. “A unicorn can be lethal if it feels threatened. Usually they are gentle and reclusive, not aggressive.”
Raquel said with a low chuckle, “The girl who catches cinder sprites thinks she knows all.” Turning again to the blond prince, she asked, “Would you like to join my family for dinner tonight, Your Highness? I’m sure you know many people here, but no one would appreciate your company more than your own nobles.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I already have dinner plans.” The prince was polite yet cool, and Ellie thought she detected a faint hint of irony in his tone. After giving dismissive little bows to Raquel and Gillian, he turned to Ellie.
Amid the jumble of emotions emanating from the group of riders, she sensed nothing from this prince. Ah, so he was magical too! How powerful was he? She casually probed around . . . and felt a jolt, like an electric shock in her mind.
His silvery eyes glinted in amusement. “I apologize for the oversight regarding the wristband, Miss . . .? I don’t believe I’ve heard your name.”
Ellie was too surprised to speak. Had he stopped her from prying into his magic? How?
“She’s just a worker here, and a know-it-all,” Raquel informed him, then turned a jealous eye upon Ellie. “She has no authority over us whatsoever, Your Highness.”
The other two men now stepped over and joined the group. “There’s no need to send any messages. We can handle one unicorn, I should hope,” the one with a thick black beard stated. “We’ll put together a hunting party and handle the beast.”
“No!” Bristling, Ellie looked this man straight in the eyes, for she was his equal in height. “You will not search for the unicorn, and you certainly will not capture or kill it. Magical beasts on Faraway Castle property are off-limits to all guests.” She struggled to hold back her magic, feeling ready to burst with it.
And felt a gentle restraint, like a hand on her shoulder—only it was inside her mind.
The bearded man glared back at her with ice-blue eyes. “Who are you, girl, to order me around? I am Maximilian of Petrovce, Crown Prince and Guardian of the Realm.”
Yet another arrogant prince. Ellie wanted to roll her eyes.
Raquel laughed. “She is Cinder Ellie, trapper of cinder sprites and garden imps.”
Ellie sensed a reassuring presence behind her just before Omar spoke. “As Controller of Magical Creatures on resort property, Ellie Calmer possesses authority to protect her charges from all guests, royal, noble, or otherwise.” His quiet voice carried a note of finality that impressed the others, for, aside from Gillian’s murmured complaints and Raquel’s murmured orders to shut her mouth, no one said another word.
Most of the party left soon afterward, giving up on Omar. The blond prince—whose name she still did not know—gave Ellie a parting promise. “I’ll keep an eye on ol’ Max, and from now on, I promise to use my wristband if there’s a problem with a magical creature.”
“Thank you.”
She sensed friendly approval like a pat on her shoulder . . . though he merely bowed, gave Omar a knowing look, and walked after the others.
“Who is he?” she asked. “I don’t remember seeing him before.”
“Can’t remember his name right off, but he’s from Auvers. A good kid. He’s grown up a lot in the past few years.” But Omar sounded distracted, and she knew he intended to talk with her.
Ellie turned to untie Dustin’s lead rope, focusing on it instead of meeting Omar’s eyes. “Thank you for standing up for me just then. My position doesn’t tend to garner much respect from guests.”
“They get my blood up, the way they talk about you. And to you. It’s just wrong,” he growled.
Seeing Omar angry was a new experience for Ellie. Angry on her behalf, even. She wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you for caring.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t change things, but it matters to me.”
“I care a lot more than that, Ellie.”
He followed her as she led Dustin into a box stall, but she turned on him before he could enter behind her. “Your Highness, you say you care, and you asked how you might help me.”
“I do, and I did.”
She saw the truth of his words in his eyes, which made it harder to continue. “I must tell you that my contact with you twice this week has caught the director’s notice. The rules about fraternization with guests are strict, and the lake-staff supervisor thinks Madame Genevieve may be looking for a reason to fire me. I’m not sure she has that authority, but . . . Please, please . . .”
She didn’t know quite what to ask of him. Did she really want him to leave her alone? “If I were to lose this position, I don’t know what I’d do. I mean, the resort is my home now.”
He looked crushed. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault, really.”
“The ski-boat incident was. Tor wanted to take the boat, and I went along with him and skied without a spotter. I knew the lake monster hated me, and we both knew the sirens would call. We were irresponsible, and you’re taking the blame. It isn’t right.”
Ellie’s brows drew together. “Did you hear the sirens?”
“I heard something, but I was too intent on showing off for you.” His boyish grin and honesty were contagious, but she resisted.
�
�You heard the siren call,” she repeated, “and it didn’t affect you? How can that be?”
He looked baffled. “Maybe I wasn’t close enough? Maybe they aimed their song at Tor since he was driving.”
Ellie could only shake her head. “Are you sure you don’t have magic?”
“If I do, I’m not aware of it. Tor doesn’t have magic either.”
Ellie removed the horse’s halter then stroked his smooth side while he pulled straw from a rack. “Tor is kind of . . . different, isn’t he?”
Omar stood just inside the open stall door, several feet away. “I see him now and then at school—he works at a private ocean-research lab in Barbacha, near the university. He’s working on a doctorate, and he travels a lot. But I met him first here at the resort years ago—he came twice, I think—and yeah, he always was unique.”
“Crazy about fish?” Ellie smiled at him over her shoulder.
“He used to be crazy about birds, but that changed.” His face brightening, Omar leaned against the doorframe. “He’s my brother Taim’s age, and I tagged along with that group when I was a kid. Tor’s from Hyllestad, way in the north, and his father is a greve.”
“What does that mean? It sounds like a kind of bird.”
He chuckled. “A greve is the equivalent of a count or earl. But Tor cares little about politics or society.” Omar spoke easily, sounding more confident than she’d ever heard him outside of statistics or calculus discussions. “He’s got more brains than should rightfully fit into one man’s head.”
“You should talk, Mr. Mathematician.”
Omar looked sheepish. “I’m sure he’s smarter than me. I’m not sure what brought him back to Faraway Castle after all these years. He’s close-mouthed about his personal life.”
“Interesting,” Ellie said, trying to process this new picture of the panfish champion.
“Hmm. Not too interesting, I hope,” Omar said.
She glanced up and caught a warm, teasing glint in his eyes. Immediately she focused on smoothing a section of Dustin’s mane. The stall seemed small and intimate, and she heard no other voices in the stable. The horse let out a long breath and shifted his weight off one rear foot, eyes half shut.
“Where will you be working tomorrow?’ Omar asked. “I will be discreet, I promise. More than anything, I want to be near you, Ellie. I’ve wanted to know you for years now. Do I annoy you? Tell me honestly if you’ve had enough and wish I would fade into the woodwork.”
He sounded so vulnerable. She believed he was sincere. But . . . he was a prince!
Ellie shoved her shaking hands into her coverall pockets and turned to face him with the solid warmth of the horse at her back. “I don’t think you should follow me, Your Highness. I . . . I can’t . . .”
He swallowed hard. “I’m moving too fast and scaring you. I’m no good at this. I don’t know how to talk to girls. Not about anything that matters. I never really wanted to before.” That quickly his demeanor changed back to self-conscious uncertainty.
She took a quick step toward him, saying, “No, no! You’re not the problem. I mean, not the real you. But you’re a prince, and I’m . . . I’m Cinder Ellie, the sprite wrangler.” Her hands flew up in frustration. “Omar, please go away!” But her voice betrayed her by breaking.
Renewed hope burned in his eyes, and he bowed gracefully. “As you wish. Until we meet again, Ellie Calmer.”
Ellie closed her eyes and clenched her fists until she knew he was gone. Then she let out a long breath. The more time she spent with Omar, the more she wanted him near . . . and the more complicated her life became. If he took her seriously and stopped coming around, she thought her heart might break. But it had to happen sometime—there could be no future together for a prince and a cinder-sprite wrangler.
Time to concentrate on important matters. Such as contacting the Gamekeeper.
That evening, back at her cottage, Ellie pulled a tiny silver tube from her pack, opened one end, and spoke into it. “Guests encountered a unicorn today near the cross-country course. I have a dozen sprites and two imps. Please come soon.” The Gamekeeper would understand the urgency of the situation when he heard her message.
As soon as evening darkened to night, she stood at her cottage door and gave a churring trill. Another trill echoed hers, and a shadow flitted past her through the open doorway and perched on the back of a chair.
The nightjar messenger and the magical speaking tubes had been provided to her by the Gamekeeper himself, and using them never failed to make her feel privileged and important.
She held up the tube. “To the Gamekeeper, if you please.” The bird made no objection when she slid the tube into a ring on its leg. “Thank you,” she said.
It bowed its head briefly, then opened its pointed wings and darted away. She caught only a glimpse of it against the sky before it disappeared into the night.
Omar’s rambunctious siblings often had dinner in the family suite under their nanny’s strict eye, allowing their parents and Omar one peaceful meal in a day. On this evening in the dining hall, Omar picked at his food while conversation buzzed around him, hearing nothing except highlights of his conversation with Ellie, seeing only the encouraging look in her eyes as they spoke in the stable, tasting only the sweetness of her face and voice.
More than ever before he believed she was the girl for him. Strange how he’d known before they shared even one real conversation. Over the years he had observed her, slyly asked questions about her, and admired her character and reputation as well as her undeniable beauty. He’d spent a lifetime surrounded by pretty girls, enough to know that physical beauty could never be enough. He wanted a lifetime mate he could respect and love, a friend and companion.
“Omar?” his mother said.
He realized tardily that she had spoken his name several times already. He blinked out of la-la land and into reality. “Yes, Mama?”
Then he realized that people, two of them ladies, stood beside their table, and he quickly rose, nearly tipping over his chair. The Earl and Countess of Roxwell and their daughter, the Honorable Gillian, greeted him with glowing smiles. A premonition hit him like a fist to his stomach.
“Lord and Lady Roxwell have invited us to their suite this evening, wishing to honor you, Omar,” his father said, evidently pleased and proud.
“To . . . honor me?”
“For your fearless rescue of our precious daughter,” said Lord Roxwell through a broad smile. His lordship’s hair was red-gold like his daughter’s, but there the resemblance ended. No doubt to Gillian’s relief, she was in all other respects the image of her beautiful mother.
There was further talk, but Omar, drowning in a sea of denial, heard nothing more until his mother spoke the fatal words: “We gladly accept.”
Afterward Omar was not altogether sure he hadn’t let out a whimper of horror. If he did, the noise of the dining room swallowed it.
As soon as the earl’s family departed, with Gillian casting Omar backward glances filled with promise, Queen Sofia tried to rush King Aryn through his dessert and brandy. “We mustn’t keep them waiting, dear.” Then she turned to Omar, squeezed his forearm, and laughed in delight. “What exactly happened today? How could you keep something like this from us, Omar? You never said a word!”
“I said nothing because it was nothing, Mother. A unicorn frightened Gillian’s horse, which dumped her into a copse of little trees. She’s never been much of a rider. She was screaming and swearing and couldn’t seem to move, so I hauled her out while another fellow caught her horse.” He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs, desperately hoping they believed him. “But then she was hysterical, and her horse wouldn’t let her remount, so I let her ride behind me. That is the full extent of my heroism, I assure you.”
Queen Sofia’s pleasure dimmed. “Omar, it isn’t like you to speak ill of a lady. She must have told her parents flattering things about you, for they seem quite eager to befriend us.”
The
evening went downhill from there. As they walked to the castle’s west wing, his parents seriously discussed the potential political advantages of an alliance with the island duchy of Roxwell, a manufacturing capital with financial and political ties extending over the entire northern continent.
And the visit with Gillian’s family only deepened Omar’s distress. Her parents urged her to relate her version of the adventure, which bore scant resemblance to his own: The unicorn had been huge and fanged, its horn and eyes glowing red, and Omar had dashed under its very nose, lifted the helpless lady into his arms, and snatched her away from certain death. Strong implications of passionate embraces and declarations of undying love laced every word.
Omar was hard put to keep his jaw from dropping at the lies. Nothing he could say dimmed the gratitude or determination of either set of parents, and Gillian glowed with adoration and triumph.
The visit lasted under an hour, but the king and the earl managed to imbibe a quantity of port while Gillian and the two mothers spoke of family traditions, travel, and fashion. Omar received the distinct impression that his mother wished to regard Gillian as a daughter, and his father seemed quite chummy with the fish-eyed earl by the time Omar helped him out the door and through a maze of halls to their own rooms.
Omar slept little that night. When morning dawned he was wide awake, staring over the edge of his bed at the place where Ellie had sat looking up at him only days before. The day his life equation started to become rational and real.
She was the only woman he would ever marry. That much he knew for certain. If anything, events of the previous night had cemented his decision, providing a stinging eyeful of the life he could end up with if he didn’t stand firm.
He flung himself out of bed, glanced out the window to see clear skies, and threw on running clothes. Some of his best thinking happened while running, and he could use a brainstorm or two.
A few minutes later, as he entered the lobby, he noticed someone else heading out the main doors, a guy in running gear. There were plenty of running trails, so not a problem. But this person turned, saw him, and waited for him to approach. “Omar. Want company?”