by J. M. Stengl
© 2018 by J.M. Stengl
Published by Rooglewood Press
www.RooglewoodPress.com
www.JMStengl.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
This volume contains works of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of each author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Book design by Bulbous Squirrel
Dedicated to Una with love from Grammy,
who wishes she could give you a cinder sprite of your very own.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
EPILOGUE
Coming Soon!
Excerpt from THE LITTLE SIREN
About the Author
Don’t miss your chance to read
THE LITTLE SIREN
When independent-minded Kamoana encounters a human boy in danger, she knows she should have nothing to do with him. As a siren, she is forbidden even to speak to humans, let alone rescue one. But how can Kamoana simply watch the boy die and do nothing to save him?
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It was early morning, so early that few guests had yet emerged from their rooms when Ellie Calmer hurried up the service stairs, clutching a stack of fluffy white towels to her chest. Just as she stepped out of the echoing stairwell, a small brown creature wearing a uniform much like hers popped into view on the thick red carpeting of the corridor. Ellie stopped short with a gasp. “Oh! Sira, you startled me!”
Great dark eyes in a mournful face gazed up at her, and the brownie’s long fingers twined about the hem of her apron. “Miss Ellie, I am so sorry about the towels!”
Ellie shook her head and started walking with Sira trotting along beside her. “It isn’t your fault. I’m quite sure the towels you brought were perfectly clean.” She spoke softly for fear of disturbing any sleeping guests as they passed along richly paneled halls lined with fine artwork. A marble griffin with outspread wings posed at a T-intersection, and here Ellie briefly paused. Along the corridor to the right was the suite where the royal family of Khenifra was currently staying. Ellie gave that corridor a wistful look but dutifully walked straight ahead.
Royal families usually reserved the suites here in the east wing of Faraway Castle. But one extremely wealthy widow of a visconte from Vetricia claimed a luxury suite for herself for three weeks every summer and made life miserable for the resort staff every single day of her holiday.
“But Lady Beneventi is displeased with my work!” Sira sounded heartbroken.
“I’m positive your housekeeping was as flawless as ever. Everything will be fine.” Ellie spoke just above a whisper, and not only because of sleeping guests. It was always wisest to keep one’s gaze straight ahead and whisper when talking to brownies in public places, since most humans could neither see nor hear them.
Ellie was unlike most humans and could easily see the brownies, dwarfs, imps, and other strange yet charming magical beings that abounded both in the castle and on its surrounding lands. She and the other human summer-staff members at Faraway Castle had all been born with magical powers—Ellie could use her voice to affect emotions—but they lacked the income to pay for the training necessary to develop their talent into real skill. Most of them were ordinary hembez, the lowest and most common magical-ability ranking (under burvae, carovnae, and the dreaded, exalted sahirae), but here at the castle they could at least associate freely and learn from each other. They were forbidden to use their magic in the presence of human guests, and were particularly banned from using their magic on a human or beast except in emergency situations, but otherwise they were free to experiment, study in the library, and share living space with magical beings of many varieties.
Most of them appreciated this benefit and worked hard. Ellie’s summers at Faraway Castle were the happiest and best days of her entire life. Not for anything would she risk losing this priceless opportunity.
She stopped before a door of solid walnut inlaid with a mosaic of flying dragons. She rapped the knocker twice and stepped back.
A weary-eyed servant opened the door and looked Ellie up and down. A sniff expressed her opinion more clearly than words. “Come this way, child.”
Ellie and Sira followed the woman into the suite and along yet another corridor, this one featuring parquet flooring and exquisite hooked rugs. The maid ushered Ellie into a formal sitting room, where Lady Beneventi stood waiting.
“Thank you, Giovanna. That will be all.” The servant curtsied, stepped into the hall, and closed the door.
Sira, who had slipped in alongside Ellie, looked up at the viscontessa with genuine deference, the top of her head no higher than Ellie’s knee. Ellie bobbed a curtsy, still clutching her fluffy burden. “I’ve brought your fresh towels, my lady.”
“Better to have provided them yesterday than oblige me to request them today,” Lady Beneventi said, her voice edged with accusation. “The towels currently in my washroom are completely unacceptable. One of the hand towels was folded improperly, and when I used another, a piece of lint fell to the washroom floor.”
“Oh no!” Sira’s shrill gasp expressed genuine dismay that might have pleased the lady had she heard it.
“I imagine that was unpleasant, my lady,” Ellie said.
“Well,” Lady Beneventi huffed, “the person I spoke with this morning seemed to think linty towels were no problem at all, but I hold to a higher standard. If towels smell stale, leave lint behind, do not absorb water, or are improperly folded, I shall spurn them and demand replacements!” Her voice rose in volume as she waxed eloquent, and her pale eyes threw sparks.
Taking pity on devastated little Sira and fearing the woman might cause herself harm, Ellie spoke quickly, wishing she might add a dash of soothing magic to her response: “I believe these fresh towels will please you, my lady. They are still warm from the sun and smell like summertime.”
Despite her intent to restrain her magic, a sprinkling of it slipped through. Lady Beneventi’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “Indeed! Well. That does sound very nice.”
“Oh, they are very nice!” Sira assured her. “I do hope you will like them.”
Ellie returned to using her natural rather than magical charm. Had Sira noticed her slip? “Such details are a vital part of the Faraway Castle experience. And speaking of attractions, I trust you will enjoy the wedding banquet tomorrow evening.”
A slight smile curved Lady Beneventi’s thin lips. “I expect I shall. Though I hold no high hopes for the happiness of the marriage, the culture of Szolnok being so barbaric while Lady Evangelina is used to finer things. My granddaughter, if ever I’d had one, would never have chosen to marry the heir of so backward a country . . .”
Ellie allowed Lady Beneventi to drone on for a time then, catching a pause in her monologue, said, “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I must return to work now.”
After changing out the fresh towels in her arms for some equally fresh yet unacceptable towels in the washroom then gently forestalling another lecture, Ellie accomplished her escape. Once the door closed at their backs, she said, “Now please don’t let this worry you, Sira. We all know you do your work perfectly every time.”
Which was no exaggeration, for the brownies of Faraway Castle kept the place sparkling from basement to tur
rets. No speck of dust survived long on the gilded frames of priceless paintings; no mouse could find sustenance on the kitchen’s crumb-free floors. Every windowpane sparkled year-round, and the ballroom floor shone like mirrored glass.
“I do try, Miss Ellie, but some guests don’t agree with you.” Sira dabbed tears from her eyes with one corner of her spotless apron.
“If Lady Beneventi really thought the service was poor, she wouldn’t return here year after year and stay for weeks.” Ellie gave Sira a reassuring smile, and the little creature did her best to return it.
But brownies found smiling difficult. Ellie had not yet completely adjusted to meeting mournful brown eyes in somber brown faces wherever she walked within the castle walls. Yet behind the sorrowful looks were happy and contented minds. Brownies enjoyed working so much that each one took a hand in every job within the castle, from kitchen to laundry to cleaning to record keeping. A dwarf disguised as human ran the front desk, and all-purpose maids like Ellie showed their faces to reassure guests that humans were in attendance, but nearly every other task in Faraway Castle itself was accomplished by brownies. Most guests never knew.
Just before they reached the marble griffin at the intersection, Ellie heard boisterous voices ahead and her heart gave a hopeful little flutter. Sure enough, a giggling toddler rounded the corner and ran toward her, his eyes sparkling. Then a girl, perhaps five years old, followed him. “Karim!” she called, then gave a delighted scream when her baby brother turned back to clutch her with both chubby arms.
Recognizing two of King Aryn of Khenifra’s numerous offspring, Ellie felt her heart rate speed up. Both children were as brown of skin as Sira, but unlike the brownies they had happy faces, chubby cheeks, and glossy black hair. For three years now, since her first summer working at Faraway Castle, Ellie had considered this royal family the most beautiful in all the world.
A moment later her joy was complete, for a young man appeared around the corner, his expression mildly concerned. “Hush, you two. People are still sleeping,” he warned his little siblings, then caught sight of Ellie.
He stopped short.
So did she.
Heart pounding, she formed her lips into a smile and said, “Good morning.”
It was Omar Zeidan, prince of Khenifra, Ellie’s first and only crush.
“Good morning,” he said in return, even as he picked up his baby brother and took his sister by the hand. Then he straightened and looked at Ellie as if intending to speak, but after a pause only gave her a nervous smile and walked away. The little boy waved to Ellie over his brother’s shoulder. “Goo-bye!” he called.
Ellie waved back, feeling both exhilarated and crushed. Prince Omar had spoken two words! To her!
Ellie had been twelve years old when Arabella the burva, her guardian and magic tutor, sent her to work at Faraway Castle three summers ago. While grilling sausages during a beach cookout, Ellie had first noticed Omar, then not quite fifteen, playing games with a bunch of young children, including his own little brothers. Omar laughed and teased yet was gentle with the little ones, helped them put balls through hoops, and let them catch him during tag. He was so cute and sweet and funny that Ellie could hardly keep her eyes off him.
That first year he hadn’t noticed her, but since then, each summer when his family came for their month-long holiday, she had caught him looking at her time and again. Yet never once had he tried to speak to her.
This was only sensible, for he was a prince and almost an adult and she was a servant girl. For all she knew, he was already betrothed in a political match; many royal families arranged marriages for their children, even the younger ones. The wedding and banquet tomorrow evening were the results of such an arranged match, although the young couple had met and become acquainted at Faraway Castle only last year.
“Prince Omar is a good human,” Sira observed, blinking her big eyes up at Ellie.
“And his little brother and sister are adorable,” Ellie said quickly.
Sira gave her a quizzical look but said nothing more about Omar. “I will take the towels to the laundry on my way to the kitchen. There is much work to do before lunch can be served today.”
“Thank you,” said Ellie. “I need to change clothes since I’m supposed to weed a flowerbed next.” She worked mornings inside the castle as a maid, but most of the day she spent laboring either in the castle gardens or at the lakeside, or both. Hers was not a glamorous lifestyle, but she was grateful for her position and for her coworkers.
After handing the stack of towels to her tiny friend, who carried them easily, she hurried to her room beside the kitchen in the basement—a tiny apartment she shared with two other workers—to change into grubby clothes.
Her work partner in the garden that day was Tasha, a dwarf disguised as a human, and the job at hand was clearing weeds from a rose bed. Ellie found that working with dwarfs upped her productivity—she hated to seem lazy in comparison to Tasha and her husband, Chuck. While they worked, Tasha chatted about Chuck’s plans for a new fishpond in the main garden at the base of the hill. “Chuck loves gardening but doesn’t like being in charge. He thinks we need a magical head gardener so keeps asking the director to hire a horticultural burvae, maybe even a carovnae, to take over as head gardener. We don’t think she takes him seriously.”
Ellie sat back on her heels for a brief rest and looked around at the terraced garden cloaking the mountain slope behind the castle. A series of waterfalls descended from Faraway Lake at the southeast corner of the resort; nearer, a road snaked between hills leading up to the castle. The gardens were extensive, including flowerbeds on terraced slopes, lawns dotted with magnificent trees, gazebos where guests sipped tea and ate scones with clotted cream, topiaries, romantic paths for strolling, fishponds, fountains, and greenhouses. Beyond the garden walls she glimpsed tennis courts in use, sports fields dotted with running figures, horses grazing in pastures, horseback guests setting out on trail rides, more sweeping lawns with croquet and badminton games in progress—everywhere activity and beauty, all surrounded by miles of lush forest, with snow-topped mountain peaks as a backdrop. It was an amazing view.
Keeping the garden in order was an enormous responsibility. She could see why Chuck would prefer to take a secondary role in its care. “For Chuck’s sake, I hope Madame Genevieve will try to find a burvis to take charge of the gardens, but I must say he does a good job.”
From the corner of her eye she caught a flicker of black and white, but when she looked over her shoulder she saw only a neat bed of annuals in full flower and a box hedge. “Did you see something run past me, Tasha?”
The dwarf girl sat upright. “Something like what?”
“A little animal. I saw a flash of black and white. I think it squeaked.”
Tasha smiled, and her round face creased into dimples. “It could be a cinder sprite—little magical critters. Chuck told me last week that he spotted one near the greenhouses, and Ben Weatherby saw one near a storage shed.”
Ellie wiped her wrist across her sweaty forehead. “My mentor supposedly taught me about every magical creature on this continent, but I’ve never heard of cinder sprites.”
Tasha looked surprised. “Maybe because they’re endangered. Or because they’re little and pretty much useless. Sprites are indigenous to Adelboden but haven’t been seen in these mountains for a long time, Chuck says. But maybe they’re finding safe shelter at Faraway Castle. Humans try to stamp out any colonies they find.”
Ellie sat back on her heels and stared. “Humans try to stamp out rare magical creatures? But why? Or do I not want to know?” she asked, glancing at the hedge with some concern.
“Cinder sprites are destructive only if they feel threatened,” Tasha said, “but humans never seem to figure that out. I would like to see one, myself. They sound really cute.” She glanced at the sky. “We need to break for lunch, and I suppose you’re assigned elsewhere for the afternoon. Well, no matter. We got a lot done this mo
rning.”
Before she headed to the staff dining hall, Ellie peered into hedges and under rose bushes, but the only furry creature she saw was an ordinary squirrel that scolded her roundly for invading his privacy. All through lunch she wondered why her mentor, the burva Arabella, had skipped teaching her about cinder sprites. Every time she thought she must by now have learned nearly everything about magic and the magical world around her, something new would pop up and illustrate that Arabella was right: Ellie had much yet to learn.
Since the day Arabella first found a lost waif on her doorstep—only seven years old, with no family, no useful skills, and no memory except the name Ellie—the surly burva had labored to teach Ellie not only how to employ her limited magical gift in useful ways, but also how to work hard with her healthy body. Working summers at Faraway Castle amid other magical teens, brownies, and dwarfs had taught Ellie the value of teamwork and of benefiting others with basic manual labor. And serving noble guests who were often neither noble nor grateful was a constant lesson in humility and self-control.
All this character-development notwithstanding, the possibility of using her magic to save the lives of magical creatures held an allure Ellie could not resist. She resolved to send a message to Arabella that very night requesting information and suggestions.
Even after she’d changed into a grubby swimsuit and shorts for her afternoon job at the lakeside, she found herself scanning her surroundings. Could cinder sprites get into the castle like ordinary mice did? In what way were they destructive? “Cinder” implied fire, but surely little furry animals wouldn’t have pyromaniacal tendencies.
Inside the castle, brownies prevailed. Outside the castle, maintaining the daily routines of the resort and its guests required an army of workers largely composed of local teens and college students with magical gifts. After three years, Ellie still knew only a handful of these fellow summer-staff members, but the friendships she had formed were good ones.