by J. M. Stengl
Ben and Jeralee, two of these coworkers and friends, walked on either side of her as they left the castle through a side door and headed toward the docks. It was a bright, warm day, and guests filled the beach. Laughter, splashing, shouts, and conversation echoed across the sparkling water, and Ellie succumbed to the beauty around her, forgetting all about magical beasties for the time.
The staff supervisor known as Bence, a gruff, balding, former military drill-instructor from Szolnok, assigned the three young teens to clean boats. Although it was a hot and dirty job, good company helped pass the time. Benjamin Weatherby was a shy boy, but Jeralee could talk enough for three people, and she kept Ellie and Ben entertained while they cleaned out the oldest ski boat and three rowboats. They were just turning over the first of many canoes lined up on the shore when a few resort guests started up a volleyball game at a nearby net.
“Our entertainment while we work,” Ben grumbled, “is watching wimpy nobles faceplant in the sand and princesses struggle to get a serve over the net.”
“You should totally go out there and show them how it’s done,” Jeralee said with a straight face. Ben gave her a deadly glare, which made her laugh.
Ellie said nothing, for she had noticed when Prince Omar joined the volleyball game as surely as if she’d had a tracking device placed on the boy. Contrary to Ben’s predictions, the young royals proved themselves decent at volleyball. Both Omar and his older brother Taim had strong serves, and a tall, pale lord from Petrovce beautifully spiked every ball Omar set for him. Most of the girls were equally skilled though not quite as tall or strong. Omar’s older sister, Layla, put some of the guys to shame with her blocks and jump serves, and a tall princess from Barbacha stuffed several of Taim’s spikes.
All three teens watched the game surreptitiously, still scrubbing the canoes but making slower progress. “Prince Omar totally missed that shot because he was looking this way,” Jeralee said. “Were you waving at him or something, Ellie?”
Ellie’s face instantly went hot. “Of course not!”
Ben gave her a sharp look, his brow knitted. “You didn’t use your magic on him?”
“You would know if I did, Ben. My magic is in my voice. Have I been muttering spells or anything?” She made a joke of it, but Ben’s suspicion bothered her. The penalty for using magic on a guest was steep. Few of the noble guests at Faraway Castle possessed magical ability. They all knew that Faraway Castle was staffed entirely by magical beings and humans, yet many were uncomfortable with overt magic use. Therefore, staff members—at least, lower-level staff— were strictly forbidden to be seen using magic and never used it on guests.
And Ellie would never have dreamed of enspelling Prince Omar. The most wonderful boy in the world needed no emotional aid from an orphaned nobody.
When the match ended—Omar’s team lost by two points—most of the players ran down into the lake to cool off. Prince Omar, though as sweaty as the others, barely let his feet get wet. “Why doesn’t he swim anymore?” Jeralee asked. “He used to be a hot shot on skis and wakeboard, but he never even goes into the water anymore. Did he nearly drown or something, Ellie?”
“I haven’t heard of any accident,” Ellie said. “Have you, Ben?” she asked to deflect attention from herself.
“Nope. He’s probably just lazy. Or maybe he thinks the lake’s too dirty for him and waits to take a cold shower.” Ben seemed to enjoy working at Faraway Castle, but his attitude toward the guests verged on contempt. Envious of their advantages in life, perhaps? “And tomorrow night we get to bow and scrape and serve these jerks,” he grumbled.
“What’s your work assignment?” Ellie inquired. “I’m pouring lemonade then helping with clean-up afterward.”
“I’m pouring champagne,” Jeralee told her. “I think we’re all assigned clean-up, but the brownies always do most of it anyway.”
“I’m waiting tables,” Ben said in a flat tone. “I get to dress up and wear shoes that pinch. When I signed up to be a groundskeeper, nothing was said about donning a monkey suit.”
“They need extras to supplement the usual wait staff,” Ellie said. “This banquet is going to be huge.”
Jeralee elbowed Benjamin. “Cheer up! Girls love a guy in a tux. Kerry Jo is waiting tables too. You might finally get a date with her.”
Although he grinned sheepishly at her teasing, Ellie saw the wistful look he gave Jeralee when her back was turned. But Jeralee pined after Derek, a local university student working at the castle during his summer break. She never gave a thought to Ben, so far as Ellie could tell. Teen crushes seemed like no fun at all. But who was Ellie to criticize? Here she was, wondering whether a royal prince, three years her senior, would notice her at the wedding banquet. Ridiculous! At any rate, having a massive crush on a completely unattainable royal kept her from getting hurt in one of the constant ill-fated romances she observed among her peers.
The volleyball players had dispersed, it was nearly dinnertime, and the three teens were polishing their final canoe when a bell began to clang, ringing across the lake and echoing off mountainsides. Guests and staff members alike jumped to their feet and cast wild glances around in search of answers. “What does that mean?” someone asked.
“Fire!” Bence’s distant voice cried. “Fire in the castle gardens! Staff members, come to me!”
When Ellie and her friends arrived at the docks, Bence was giving orders to the lifeguards and child-care staff. His assistant waved the teens over and handed them each a bucket. “We’re already short-handed here, so only you three can go. Fill these at the spigots in the garden,” she ordered. “Run!”
Benjamin and Ellie were faster than Jeralee with her short legs, and Ellie arrived at the lakeside garden gate first. She opened it and rushed down the slope toward the smoke rising from behind the Kamayaman gardens, with Ben and Jeralee close behind. But Chuck hailed them partway there. “Fill your buckets here. They’re spraying the fire with garden hoses attached to the only spigots near the burning shed.” He pulled Ellie aside to add quietly, “If anyone asks about the fire, it was an accident.”
So he said, but his manner and tone implied knowledge of a non-accidental cause. Ellie didn’t stop to ask questions but lugged her full buckets along a shingle path until the shed came into view. It was blackened, and part of the roof had caved in, but only a few flames were still visible. She emptied her buckets on them then retreated to cough from the smoke. Several older workers, mostly university students, wielded the garden hoses.
“What was in there?” Ellie asked Tasha, who looked more worried than frightened.
“Just gardening tools and some sacks of mulch. Nothing of great value. It was an ordinary fire, and it didn’t spread at all.” She sounded defensive, which added to Ellie’s concern.
“Do you think a cinder sprite started it?” she guessed in a hushed tone.
Tasha gave her a sharp look and a quick warning headshake. “It was an accident,” she echoed Chuck. But each repetition made the story less believable. A few other summer-hire gardeners clustered nearby and talked among themselves. She heard one asking why they didn’t use magic to put out the fire and another explaining again about the rules. Then their voices quieted, and Ellie followed their wide-eyed stares to see the resort director approaching.
Madame Genevieve, as staff and guests alike called her, was a tall, dark-haired woman with startling green eyes and a stony expression that softened only for the most important resort guests. She surveyed the smoldering shed with her usual impassive stare then turned to Tasha and Chuck, who had joined the crowd. “How did this happen?” she asked.
“It was an accident, Madame,” Chuck said stoutly.
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of accident? Was someone smoking a pipe or burning waste nearby?”
“Not that I know of, but sometimes compost combusts. I’ve known it to happen.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, overlooked Tasha entirely, and turned to the human summe
r workers. “Have any of you seen anything suspicious or unusual in or around this shed?”
Ellie hadn’t become acquainted with any of the new hires yet, though she recognized a few faces. A boy named Halvar partly lifted his hand and said, “I haven’t seen anyone smoking or burning leaves, but yesterday I saw . . . Oh, never mind.” He blushed.
“Tell me,” Madame Genevieve ordered. “What did you see?”
“It was just a little animal near the shed. I thought it was a rabbit, but it had shorter ears and legs and . . . little horns, kind of twisty.” Halvar spiraled his index fingers from the top of his head, and some of the others laughed, making the poor guy blush harder. “It ran away when it saw me.”
Ellie saw Tasha lay a restraining hand on Chuck’s shoulder.
But the director must have noticed his reaction, for she turned her gimlet gaze on him and Tasha. “Have either of you seen a cinder sprite in or near that shed?”
Chuck’s eyes shifted away, then back. “Recently I saw what might have been a cinder sprite not far from here, but—”
“Might have been?” Madame interrupted. “Exactly what did you see?”
“A little animal. Kind of a tan color. Shaped like a brick with little feet.”
The director nodded. “I’ve been privately informed that cinder sprites are beginning to nest on resort grounds. As everyone knows, the creatures are disasters waiting to happen. Steps will be taken.”
“But Madame Genevieve,” Tasha said, suddenly bold, “everyone also knows that cinder sprites are an endangered magical species and only dangerous when threatened. If left alone, they are peaceful little creatures.”
As Tasha was speaking, Ellie noticed movement just above Chuck’s and Tasha’s heads. A tiny being popped into view, its iridescent wings beating quickly like those of a hovering moth, a big grin on its face. A pixie. Arabella had taught her about pixies, but Ellie couldn’t immediately recall whether they were benevolent or malicious. This pixie was kind of cute in a strange way, yet something about its gleeful expression at such a time gave her a sense that it reveled in destruction. It vanished again a moment later.
If Madame Genevieve had noticed the pixie, she did not acknowledge it. She turned to study the smoldering shed once more, gave a short nod, and walked away toward the castle. “Clean up this mess,” drifted back over her shoulder.
Chuck and Tasha immediately directed their workers to begin clearing away unburned materials, and Ellie exchanged looks with her two friends and other lifeguards and maids who had answered the bell. “Is there anything more we can do to help?” she asked Chuck.
Instead of answering her directly, he addressed the crowd of staff members himself. “Thanks to you all, we put the fire out so fast that it didn’t spread. The garden staff can handle things from here. Hope we’ll be as quick to answer if ever you all need emergency help at the lake or inside the castle.”
Jeralee and Ben left with the others, but Ellie made excuses to stay behind. For a few minutes she simply stood and watched while Chuck used an old rake to spread the remaining coals and Tasha sprinkled them with a watering can, producing clouds of rank steam. Once everyone else was distracted or out of hearing distance, Ellie asked, “If it was a sprite, do you think it got out safely?”
Tasha only shook her head. Chuck gave her a sorrowful glance and said, “Once a sprite goes ember, it’s all over. I’ve never heard of one recovering.”
More puzzled than ever, Ellie asked, “What do you mean by ‘goes ember’?”
Chuck and Tasha exchanged a look, then Tasha nodded. “Come with me, Ellie. I’ll tell you everything, but not here.”
She led the way down stone staircases and through glorious bowers of flowering vines until they reached a wide green lawn where a party of guests played croquet. Ellie followed the dwarf past the game to an open area then turned back with her to gaze up at the castle perched on the ridge. It was past dinnertime, and Ellie’s stomach felt empty, but just then she was more interested in information than in food.
“Chuck and I have only caught glimpses of cinder sprites in the past few days, but there are rumors about them all through the forest.” Ellie understood from her tone that these rumors circulated among magical creatures, not humans. “Cinder sprites are social little creatures who enjoy gossip and love to eat. But when they get frightened or angry, they get hot. Really hot. And if they don’t calm down, they burst into flame—that’s what we call going ember.”
Tasha glanced around at lengthening shadows and lowered her voice. “Sprites have been drifting into these mountains and onto Faraway Castle property for months now, living quietly and causing no harm. But their numbers are increasing, and rumor says—for all rumor is worth—that pixies have started teasing sprites until they burst into angry flame. Once they’re burning they run wild until they burn out. We think a sprite burned out near the lakeshore just the other day—one of the stable dwarfs found the pile of ash. But this one must have run into the shed, and now . . .” She shook her head.
“Pixies!” Ellie repeated once Tasha paused. “I saw a pixie just a few minutes ago, hovering right behind you and Chuck while the director talked. It was grinning . . . not a very nice grin, I thought.”
Tasha spun to stare at her. “A pixie in the garden? Did the director see it?”
“I don’t see how she could have missed seeing it. She was looking right at you. But why would a pixie try to make sprites burn up?”
After a pause, Tasha spoke through taut lips. “Pixies and cinder sprites are enemies. Nobody knows why—probably even they don’t know! If you saw one, there must be more around.” She shook her head. “This is bad. This is very bad. We must notify the Gamekeeper immediately.”
Ellie had often heard about the Gamekeeper during her years at Faraway Castle, but she knew only that he was the person responsible for the magical creatures living in the mountains. “Does the Gamekeeper live nearby? Is he powerful enough to stop pixies, do you think?”
Tasha’s quick glance held surprise and amusement. “Never you mind; we’ll get word to him.”
Which only increased Ellie’s curiosity. But she let the matter drop.
When Ellie finally arrived at the noisy staff dining hall, filled her plate from the buffet, and sat among friends, she let her thoughts drift to cinder sprites and how she might help them. Arabella, a burva of only moderate magical gifts but endless diligence, had always pushed her to find new applications for her gifts and training. “Limiting yourself to helpful words is a crime, girl,” she would say. “Do you think I teach you all these magical-process classes for my own enjoyment? Experiment, use your knowledge, and see if you can’t come up with tools to enhance your gift!”
Already Ellie had developed an herbal spray that protected her fair hair, pale complexion, and gray eyes from the sun’s burning rays even on the hottest day. She had never yet brewed a potion without Arabella’s supervision, but she knew that her acerbic guardian would encourage her to try. So, which herbs might be most useful for concocting a formula that could, when combined with her magical voice, bring an embered sprite back to normal?
Because Arabella had always encouraged her to make the most of her gift, Ellie thought it no disgrace to be nothing more than a diligent hembez, the lowest level of magic for a human, the level held by most of the human workers at the resort. She didn’t need to be a burva like Arabella. If she could simply pass on to another needy creature the kindness and assistance Arabella had given her, she would be content.
Kerry Jo, a bouncy girl with sun-bleached hair and a deep tan, interrupted her thoughts. “Ellie, did you hear we’ve got an emergency meeting in the staff room?”
Ellie jerked back to the present. “No, I was wool-gathering. When?”
“Ten minutes. We’d better get a move on.”
“Thanks, Kerry Jo.”
Ellie picked up her tray, took it to the service window, and headed for the door. Just as she stepped into the hall, her interna
l radar again picked up the presence of Prince Omar, who was just leaving the guest dining hall located in a long, windowed gallery on the lake side of the castle. Instantly regretting her grubby appearance, she flicked a glance his way to enjoy the sight of her hero in sport coat and slacks.
Only to meet his dark eyes. She couldn’t wait for him to catch up without seeming forward, so she gave him a polite smile and immediately turned toward the lobby. Would he follow her or head the other direction?
Just as she reached the door to the lobby, she heard quick footsteps. Prince Omar hurried past her to open the door, held it with a shy smile, and indicated that she should go first.
She could hardly breathe but managed to thank him. As soon as they entered the lobby, he headed toward the grand staircase and she turned toward the staff meeting room next to Madame Genevieve’s office. But before she entered, she looked back and saw Omar halfway up the first flight, just turning to complete his climb. Had he looked back at her too?
The meeting room’s entrance doors were located at the front on either side of a lectern, and its seats rose in tiers to the back of the room. Ellie, still breathless and pink in the face when she entered, immediately felt as if everyone was looking at her. Others entered at the same time, and a murmur of conversation filled the room, so she quickly decided her fears were unfounded.
Jeralee waved to her from near the center of a row of seats and pointed to an empty seat beside her, so Ellie climbed over several people before she could sit down and think about Omar. What a gentleman! How considerate! And he smelled so good . . .
And she had undoubtedly smelled to him of sweat, mildew, and burnt garden shed.
Ellie hunched down in her seat, eyes squeezed shut, thinking only Nooooooooo! The fact that nearly everyone around her smelled exactly like she did provided no solace; Omar hadn’t held a door for them.
“What’s with you, Ell?” Jeralee asked. “Did your Prince Charming fail to run into something when you walked past? Or does he finally have a girlfriend?”