Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(10)
That task finished, she straightened up and stretched her aching back.
“Thank you so much,” Rosa said, “for the garden work as well as for trapping that little lettuce-ravager.”
“You’re welcome. You know I enjoy it.” Ellie was just knocking garden dirt from her glass clogs when her wristband emitted its magical alert. “What now?”
A quick glance informed her. “No emergency. I think it’s from the director’s office.”
Rosa raised a quizzical brow. “Hmm. Wonder what that could be about.”
Something in her tone alerted Ellie. “What do you mean?”
“Just before you got here, Jeralee told me about cinder sprites in the royal suite.” Rosa’s tone expressed both concern and amusement. “Gossip spreads like strangleweed.”
“Great. Just great.” Ellie’s shoulders drooped. “I was only doing my job. Gotta go! Have to drop this imp off at my cottage before I report in.” With that, she made her escape.
Who leaked that story? And why must everyone at Faraway Castle demand to know everyone else’s business? Rosa knew about Ellie’s crush on Prince Omar. She must know as well as anyone how silly it would be even to imagine a happy ending for a staff member with a royal prince.
Ellie dropped the imp off in her cabin then sprinted to the castle, the cages in her pack clinking at every step. The director of Faraway Castle Resort did not take kindly to waiting, and for three years now she’d been looking for some reason to dismiss Ellie. Madame lacked the authority to directly fire Ellie, but she would be certain to report any infraction to the Gamekeeper.
Madame Genevieve seemed to despise every female member of the castle staff and found any romantic relationship appalling. Speculation was rife about her past. Had the director been spurned by a lover? Left at the altar?
A few of the guys insisted she was the hatchet-murderer type and probably had seven former husbands buried in hidden graves on resort grounds.
Yet when Ellie stood in the director’s office, returning the woman’s stare, she couldn’t help thinking how handsome Madame was. Tall, statuesque, with regular features, good teeth, abundant dark hair, and stunning green eyes. Her expression was the problem: cold, resentful, and forbidding.
Madame Genevieve regarded Ellie over the tops of her spectacles. “I have only moments to deal with you, Miss Calmer, so be truthful. I hold in my hand a note claiming that you removed cinder sprites from the royal guest suite, thereby saving the Zeidan family and possibly the entire castle from incineration, and that you afterward repaired all damage inflicted by the pests. It was written by Prince Omar of Khenifra on behalf of his royal parents and siblings.” Madame’s strange eyes seemed to peer into Ellie’s brain. “Do you deserve such commendation?”
Ellie’s spine was ramrod straight, and her gaze remained fixed on the letter. “I did my job, Madame, that’s all. This morning Sira the brownie alerted me that the Zeidan children had captured a family of sprites in the gardens and sneaked them into the family suite. I captured all six sprites and confined them in cages, then mended the damage they caused. They are currently in my cabin, pending either release or transfer to the Gamekeeper.”
“Indeed,” said the director, thoughtfully tapping the note with one finger. “Have you ever spoken with Prince Omar Zeidan before today?”
“Only once, Madame, and that was several years ago, after I spilled lemonade on his coat at a banquet.”
“I see.” Madame’s eye twitched. “Very well, Miss Calmer. You are aware of our fraternization rules. Carry on.” She waved one hand and returned her attention to the papers on her desk.
Thus Ellie was warned.
As if this warning had not annihilated her remaining peace of mind, another blow was yet to fall. That evening, on her way to the cafeteria with a few summer-staff gardeners, she encountered a large group of guests in the corridor outside the banquet hall, including Prince Omar with Raquel and Gillian pasted to his arms. Omar brightened and opened his mouth as if to greet her, but Gillian spoke first: “Well, if it isn’t Cinder Ellie!”
Raquel added, “Played in the ashes and soot today, Cinder Ellie?”
As soon as they were past, Ellie politely excused herself to her coworkers and took the service stairs down to the kitchen, where she begged a bowl of soup. With shrill laughter still ringing in her ears, she sat on the floor to eat among the brownies, who welcomed her, and the hobgoblins, who did not.
Geraldo gave her an accusing glare and growled, “Only two crumbs tonight, and neither of them chocolate. Hmph!”
The next morning one of the supervisors, Bence, a gruff, balding, former drill-sergeant, hailed her outside the cafeteria. “Calmer, you’re assigned lake patrol this week and next.”
“Lake patrol?” Her responsibilities as magical-creature controller made lake patrol impractical. “What if I get a call?”
He shrugged. “We’ll deal with it. We’re short a lifeguard, so get going. You know the drill; things haven’t changed much since you last worked.”
Ellie nodded and tried to smile. “I’ll eat fast.”
“Do that.” Bence wasn’t mean, just focused.
The patrol assignment was great—she loved being on the lake. But its suddenness was suspicious. Prince Omar never played in the lake. Rugby, polo, cross-country riding, tennis, football, archery, fencing—he enjoyed all these and more. He even swam laps in the indoor pool. But outdoor water sports? Never. Which was odd, since when Ellie first came to work at the camp, Omar had been a talented water-skier and wakeboarder, a daredevil off the ski-ramp. She had her suspicions about why he avoided the lake, but no proof.