Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(22)
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.