by J. M. Stengl
On the way to the washroom, Omar remarked, “I didn’t know you had a sister.” He rolled up his sleeves, turned on the warm tap, and scrubbed stickiness and dirt from his hands. His tuxedo would need dry-cleaning after tonight, for certain.
Briar concentrated on washing his hands. “Most people don’t.”
Omar detected strange undertones in the prince’s voice. “Why not? What are you not telling me?”
Briar looked him straight in the eyes, paused, then grinned. “I was going to wait and make you find out along with everyone else, but I can’t do it. Here’s the deal: I’ve spent time with Ellie this week, trying to get to know her. I can’t help being proud of the woman she has become. Omar, if you were jealous when I danced with her tonight, don’t be. I love Ellie, but not in the same way you do.”
Omar’s brain processed this speech. “You’re telling me Ellie is your sister.”
“Never underestimate a mathematician,” Briar said. “She is. My twin. My older twin, to be exact. And now, should you return to the ballroom with me, you will soon hear the story—or as much of it as I know—of how she came to be here at Faraway Castle. As soon as I was positive that Ellie is indeed Crown Princess Marielle Yvette of Auvers, I sent for our parents. I’m not sure when they will arrive, but it will happen in the next day or two.”
The two young men faced off in the washroom off the kitchen, strange surroundings for a revelation. Omar knew he was blinking and staring like an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. “Ellie is a princess. I should have known all along.”
Briar shrugged one shoulder. “How could you have known? Many exceptional women are not princesses, or even noblewomen in the sense the word is commonly used.” He sounded slightly annoyed. “But you are missing the crucial point of my revelation: Ellie will be queen someday. The law of primogeniture in Auvers includes firstborn daughters.”
Omar’s brow wrinkled. “That will certainly come as a surprise to her. How do you feel about becoming second in line for the throne after being the crown prince all your life?”
“Not all my life, only since Ellie disappeared. And, to be frank, I feel free!” The lift of one brow added a sardonic twist to this statement, leaving Omar confused.
“Shall we return to the ballroom?” Briar suggested. “I ask only that you allow me to break the news to Marielle. I believe her memories are starting to return. She danced with me tonight as if we were both still seven, performing our old lifts and spins.”
Omar might have remarked that she had danced just as naturally with him, but he kept that knowledge to himself, sensing Briar needed this connection with his twin sister.
The band still played as they entered, but dancers on the floor had stopped. People clustered at the garden doors, others turned to see what was happening, and the music faltered as band members dropped out one by one. Whispers became murmurs, and soon the room buzzed with talk.
Had the hobgoblins caused more trouble? Where was Ellie?
“What’s happening?” Omar asked a young lord he often teamed up with for tennis matches.
Lord Carevo, better known as Dino, answered, “Raquel and Gillian unmasked a staff member who dressed up and pretended to be a guest—the hot blonde you danced with. Did you know? The director fired her right in front of everyone.”
But Omar was no longer listening. He ran toward the garden door and struggled to break through the crowd. Ellie must have run outside, for everyone still stared in that direction. “Ellie!” he called.
At that moment, what felt like a cushion of magic dropped over the entire company, muting all sound. As Omar slowly turned, feeling as if he moved in a dream, a familiar voice called for attention. Prince Briar stood on the dais, his hands raised.
“Some” magic? Right.
Every eye in the room focused on Briar. “I wish to tell you a story.” His voice penetrated the thick silence. “Some of you know parts of this tale but not all. Eleven years ago, the royal family of Auvers traveled toward Faraway Castle, intending to experience our first family holiday. On the way, my parents, my twin sister, and I took a side trip to see the spectacular mountain views. One of the vehicles in our convoy got a flat tire, so my family stopped to picnic and enjoy the scenery while servants changed the flat. While we were eating, Marielle jumped up and chased after some bird or creature she had seen, calling for me to follow. By the time I got up and chased after her, it was too late. Not that I would have been able to save her.
“A huge griffin dropped out of the sky, grabbed Marielle from behind by her arms, and carried her away, high into the sky and beyond our sight. Our guards could not shoot at it for fear of harming Marielle, and the creature was quickly too far away for my mother’s magic to reach.”
Omar listened, as spellbound as everyone around him, while Briar spun out his astonishing tale.
“Our parents ordered an extensive search throughout the surrounding region, but no word of a little golden-haired girl could be found. They paid hunting parties to find that griffin. Our mother, Queen Brigitte, hired magicians to locate it or Marielle. All for nothing. It was as if she had vanished from the earth. As years passed with no sign of her, even our parents began to accept that she was forever lost to us and gave her up for dead, but I knew she must be alive and searched for her on my own.
“This summer I decided to visit Faraway Castle for the first time, and almost on the day I arrived I noticed a young woman bearing a strong resemblance to my family—to me, for that matter. I investigated, learned of her magical ability of persuasive speech and her connection with magical creatures, and my suspicion became certainty. Not until I conversed with a personage who professed to know her herbwoman protector did I discover when and how my sister disappeared eleven years ago: My father’s men were unable to locate her because the herbwoman places strong protective boundaries around her home.”
Briar paused to allow this information to sink into his audience’s minds, then pronounced: “The young woman known as Ellie Calmer, Controller of Magical Creatures at Faraway Castle, is my twin sister, Marielle Yvette Toulouse, daughter of Queen Brigitte and her consort, Prince Francis. She is my older sister, and rightfully Crown Princess of Auvers.”
The magical restraint lifted. Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Briar jumped off the platform near Lady Raquel and the Honorable Gillian. “Ladies,” he said coolly in passing, but it was enough.
Lady Raquel’s face was livid, her lips compressed. Gillian moaned, “The lost princess Marielle! We insulted our own Crown Princess! But how could we have known? We thought she was dead! It isn’t fair!”
The conquering prince passed Omar with only a twinkling glance then approached the king and queen of Khenifra. He bowed low before them—Omar could find no fault with Prince Briar’s manner. He was respectful without subservience, and his face was, for once, devoid of humor.
“Your Majesties, I ask you now, as brother to the Crown Princess Marielle, if you will accept her as a worthy bride for your son Prince Omar.”
Omar swallowed hard.
King Aryn tipped his chin down and nearly smiled. “Your Highness, we had already discussed the matter and decided to accept our son’s choice of wife, whatever her station in life. Your sister has already proven herself a worthy consort to any man with intelligence and spirit enough to claim her heart. Someday she will be a wise and just queen.”
Queen Sofia smiled directly at Omar. “Go to her, Omar. She needs you.”
Briar also turned to face Omar, pointed toward the garden door, and stated with evident enjoyment: “She went that way.”
Omar rushed from the ballroom, his heart flying ahead of his feet.
Ellie sat there in darkness with her back against the door, staring into space while questions whirled through her head.
Why would the Gamekeeper tell her not to lose her joy, no matter what? Did he know something she didn’t know? Did the director have authority to fire her, or should she contact him?
�
��Enough self-pity,” Ellie growled. “One way or another, I’ve got to get out of this dress.”
She pushed herself to her feet, took two steps, tripped over something, and staggered a few paces, certain she was going to ruin her gorgeous gown. But the dress was tougher than it appeared, and she managed to find her balance and a light switch.
She’d tripped over her backpack on the floor just inside the tiny living room. Someone must have . . . The mind-picture of that horrid pooka in her cottage flashed through her thoughts, but before she could creep herself out entirely, a chorus of squeaks distracted her. A little creature dashed from under one chair to another. She recognized that gleaming white fur. “Frosti? How . . .?” Two more sprites poked their heads from beneath the little sofa and whistled—the boys! Then Sparki scampered directly to Ellie and disappeared beneath her skirts. “Wait, did you . . .? No, you can’t possibly have carried in my pack. Why are you still here? Is the coach somewhere outside?”
Even as she asked the question, she knew the coach was gone. The Gamekeeper would have to come back for these four. “I need to set up cages for you girls and your friends. Would you fellows like to have names?”
She gathered the impression that names would be welcome, but she was fresh out of ideas. “Maybe I will find a way to ask the children to name you. I hope they’re able to come say goodbye.”
More to the point, would Omar come? Of course he would. But what could he say or do to make a future together possible?
No, best to focus on the current situation. She sat on the edge of a chair in a puddle of frothy skirts, leaned her elbows on her knees, and focused on Frosti and Sparki, who stepped out in the open to inform her. Their little mouths worked and their slender horns bobbed as they earnestly squeaked their news. And as she listened, Ellie caught the drift of their meaning. Really, she must find a way to learn cinder sprite language.
“You want to stay with me?” she responded to a particularly impassioned speech, jumbled though it was, since both sprites talked at once. “And the boys too? But, girls, I’ve been dismissed from my position here and must leave the resort immediately.”
All four chorused in protest, and she completely lost the sense in their response. Hearing something about the Gamekeeper, she said, “This isn’t your fault or the Gamekeeper’s in any way. I chose to take the risk in attending the ball, and up until Geraldo—he’s a hobgoblin—caused a disaster at the buffet tables, everything was wonderful. I danced with Omar, and . . .”
Her voice gave out. She shook her head, lips compressed, trying to regain control. Memories of the evening flitted through her thoughts, including her dance with Briar. Strange, how dancing with him had seemed familiar.
“And he called me . . . Marielle,” she said.
Memories tumbled through her thoughts so quickly that she felt dizzy. “That is my name—Marielle. Briar is the boy I danced with all those years ago. Now I remember his face back then, and I know. He . . . he always found fault with my dancing and picked on me. But if anyone else criticized me, he sprang to my defense.”
Her eyes widened to the shape of saucers. “Briar is my twin brother,” she whispered. “And he knows!” she said aloud. “That rat, he knows! Why didn’t he tell me?”
The sprites scampered away, still chirping to each other, as she awkwardly stood up, trying not to step on her skirts. “Omar!” she whispered. “I must tell him!”
At that moment she heard a knock at the door and Omar’s voice. “Ellie? I know you’re in there. Please open the door. I have important news—good news—to share!” She spun around, nearly fell upon the door in her rush to open it, then jerked it wide open.
He stood there, his expression hopeful, tentative, concerned. Then he held out a sparkling glass slipper. “Might this be yours, my lady?”
She laughed in a nervous burst and snatched it from him with both hands. Unable to hold everything back, she exclaimed in a rush, dancing in place with excitement: “Omar! Everything has changed! I remember! I know who I am! When Briar called me Marielle—did you hear him?—I didn’t even notice at first. I knew it was my name without thinking. When we danced, it felt so natural, as if we had done it a thousand times—which we have! And just now I realized that he’s my brother! My twin brother who tormented the life out of me, but he was my best friend. No wonder I always felt so comfortable with him and never mistook his friendliness for flirting.”
Only then did she notice Omar’s lack of surprise. “Did you know already?”
“Briar just told everyone at the ball that you are his sister, Crown Princess Marielle. He explained how you were carried off by a griffin, and how, after years of desperate searching, your parents believed you were dead. But they, your parents, are coming here soon, perhaps tomorrow!”
Ellie listened with the slipper clutched against her chest, breathing hard. Then, with a gasp, she dropped the shoe, which hit the floor with a loud clunk. Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head. “It’s too much to take in! Omar, what shall I do?”
“I have a great idea,” he said, only partly joking. “You should marry me. May I ask you now?
She parted her hands to give him a glowing smile . . . and nodded.
Omar went down on one knee right there on her doorstep. “Marielle—my dearest Ellie—will you marry me? Please be my wife!”
He looked so hopeful and sweet and uncertain that Ellie bent down, took his face between her hands, and kissed him. “Yes! Oh yes, I will marry you, Omar!”
He stared up at her, dazed and startled, though he appeared not at all displeased.
Ellie stood up straight, took a step back inside, and laughed again. “My first kiss, and I stole it!”
He blinked, stood up, swallowed hard, then grinned sheepishly. “It was my first kiss too. And I didn’t mind having it stolen. Not at all.” He stepped forward, took her in his arms, and said, “But I’m stealing the next one.” And he proceeded to kiss her thoroughly right there in the doorway, making up for lost time.
After a few minutes, Ellie pulled back slightly and blurted, “But this changes everything. Now I must become queen someday, unless I abdicate and let Briar be king. And what will your parents think? They might accept me now, but I hate to think I’m acceptable only for my rank.”
He nodded soberly. “I suppose we can never know for certain, but my father told me, only minutes ago, that they had already decided to allow me to marry whomever I chose, and I believe them. They understand that their own happiness in an arranged marriage is a rare blessing and . . . well, while you and I danced, I saw my mother watching us, and she looked pleased, like the cat who stole the cream. I didn’t stop to analyze at the time, but now I think I understand: She recognized love when she saw us together.”
“Then we are officially engaged to marry,” Ellie said in wonder, gazing up at him. “Omar, I have loved you for so long! I want to marry you soon. I don’t want to be apart while you finish school. After tonight, I don’t think I could be comfortable working at the resort even if Madame would take me back.”
He smiled in mild amusement. “I expect you will travel to Auvers with your parents and spend the next few months learning how to be Crown Princess. Your life is about to change in major ways, my sweet Ellie.” He placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead.
“I know, and that frightens me.” She turned her face into his caress, sighed, then slid her arms up around his neck and pressed close. “The only change I really want is to be with you all the time.”
“I want that too.” He rested his cheek on her hair and sighed. “But many other changes must come first. We could elope, but I don’t want to alienate your parents from the start.”
Ellie sighed. “You are right, of course. I hope Briar comes along to help me adjust to Auvers. I have some memories of it, but I’m sure it will look entirely different to me now.”
They held each other for a long moment, soaking in the closeness. But Ellie’s brain could not r
elax. “Are you sure you want to be prince consort someday? You’re already a prince, so you won’t need a new title—that’s good. I don’t remember my parents well enough to know what it’s like for my father. I seem to remember my mother being rather . . . forceful. And that frightens me too. What if she objects to our marriage?”
“Ellie, don’t borrow trouble. Let’s meet them first, tell them of our betrothal, and see where things go from there. I’m sure objections and impediments will come, but we’ll handle things together, all right? Being prince consort will be a challenging adventure, true, but I already expected adventure in marrying you. You’ll make a great queen someday.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.” He held her close, and she relaxed against him, though he could almost feel the tumult of her thinking.
“Do I hear cinder sprites?” Omar asked after a moment. “I thought the Gamekeeper came to take them.”
Ellie tipped her face up and smiled. “You do, and he did, but some decided to come back. I have so much to tell you about my visit to the Gamekeeper’s house and how I was able to come to the ball! I even met the griffin that stole me. That was the weirdest part of a very strange day.”
She paused, grimaced, and shuddered. “I think I was happier not remembering some of my past. But most of today was incredibly good. And I am so exhausted I can hardly think straight.”
She rose on tiptoe and regarded him earnestly. “Omar, will you mind terribly if I keep a few cinder sprites around our house? They won’t start fires or stink of sulphur, I promise.”
He laughed, quickly kissed her again, unable to resist, then answered, “My poor brain is galloping all-out, trying to keep up with your train of thought. And I suppose having magical creatures around the house comes with marrying a magical-creature wrangler. Credit where credit is due: I might never have worked up nerve to speak to you if a sprite hadn’t lured you into my bedchamber.”
Laughing, Ellie hid her face in his shoulder. “What a crazy story to tell!”