Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(40)
“I can’t come, Omar.”
He had expected her to require convincing. “I know that a gown might be an issue, but we can find one to fit you, I’m sure.”
“I don’t have a gown, but that isn’t the reason I won’t go, Omar.”
He rushed on. “My parents told me that I must choose a wife and propose to her at the ball, and they will announce my betrothal that night. I love my parents, but I can never accept an arranged marriage to a woman I don’t love. I would rather be cut off without a penny. Perhaps I could get a position here at the resort—I’m experienced at bookkeeping and finance, and I understand the business—”
“No.” She stopped on the walkway before her cottage and faced him. The moon and stars cast silvery light upon her sober face; and when a light breeze blew, the pine boughs overhead sprinkled them both with needles. Ellie impatiently brushed one from her face. “Omar, listen to me: I am a working girl, a magic-creature controller, not a noblewoman or princess. I could never fit into your world, and I do not intend to allow any prince, no matter how handsome or sincere, to break my heart.”
Omar swallowed hard, his heart thudding painfully. “Ellie, I . . .”
“I know that you think you care for me, Omar, but you love your family so much. Think of the heartbreak to your parents and your darling little brothers and sisters! You could never . . . I could never do that to them! Besides, Madame would never hire you at the castle and insult your parents.”
“Then I will get a position somewhere else—” He reached toward her, but she pushed his hands away and took a step back.
“You hardly know me, and you cannot destroy your own future for my sake.” Her voice cracked, and he saw tears spill down her cheeks. Again he tried to speak, but she rushed on. “I care too much for you to let you ruin your life for a summer romance, Omar. You are the most wonderful man I have ever, ever known, and I want you to live the life you deserve.” Her voice caught on a sob as she backed away from him. “Please forget me and move on.”
Just as she opened her door, he stepped forward, holding out her pack. As she lowered her eyes and took it, he said, “Never, Ellie.” He spoke quietly, but he knew she heard him. “There will never be anyone but you.”
Morning arrived far too early. Ellie lay in bed, remembering everything, dreading the day ahead. A familiar sound greeted her ears: the squeak of cinder sprites. A moment passed before she remembered she hadn’t trapped any sprites since the Gamekeeper’s visit. Her eyes popped open, possibilities rushing through her mind. Yesterday’s rain would have driven sprites all over the resort into cover; she was likely to receive a message, or several, from the castle at any time. But the sprites she heard were inside her cottage; she was sure of it.
And they sounded hungry.
She popped out of bed, dressed in a clean coverall, and slipped on her glass shoes and her gloves. There should be fresh kale and collard greens in her refrigerator, and the Gamekeeper had left a supply of empty cages. With spray bottle in hand, she slipped out of her bedroom and surveyed the small living area. Two sprites scampered into view, one chasing the other, oblivious to her presence. They were not much larger than her fist and quick on their little feet. One was solid red, the other white with black ears, nose, and feet, and their hair was long and straight, parted down the middle and flowing behind them. They looked like animated wigs but for their spiraled horns. In her three years of working with cinder sprites, Ellie had only ever seen one quite like them.
“Good morning, babies,” she crooned, and filled the air with her soothing spray. The sprites paused, sniffing the air. Their squeaks softened in tone, and she heard little puffs of happiness. With any luck, she could trap them without ember incident.
She collected two cages and a handful of greens, then approached the tiny pair, who crouched in the open space between a chair and the small entry area, their little noses and ears twitching. “You might just be the cutest sprites I have ever seen,” she told them, pouring on the charm. “You remind me of a sprite I met years ago.” Slowly she set the cages on the floor then knelt. Their large black eyes studied her. Cinder sprites, though sentient, were generally not the brightest of creatures, but Ellie suspected she was being evaluated by sharp little minds.
Suddenly, so quickly that Ellie flinched, the white sprite trotted forward and hopped into her lap, puffing in a friendly manner. It nibbled at a zipper-pull on her pocket, then looked up into her face. Waves of trust and expectation flowed toward her. Ellie melted and offered the little creature a sprig of kale.
Soon she sat cross-legged on the floor with a sprite on each leg, both squeaking contentedly and munching on greens. She could only shake her head in wonder at their lack of fear. Had these two been living in her house unnoticed while she cared for the captive sprites? What had they lived on? She kept hay in a bin near the door, and pieces often dropped unnoticed while she cared for her little prisoners. Or the tiny intruders might have sneaked in and out through whatever entry point they had discovered.
Perhaps she could keep these two around for a time. The Gamekeeper allowed her to use discernment about allowing sprites demonstrating intelligence and restraint to remain in the castle gardens. Over the years she had released fewer than twenty, but those sprites never entered a human dwelling again, and she occasionally sighted them in the gardens.