Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(41)
Sprites were good company, and she always missed the cheery squeaks after the Gamekeeper visited and carried her captives away. She stroked the red one with the tip of her finger, and it made a little purring sound. These two fearless furballs were in no danger of going ember. “You two remind me very much of Starfire, the royal elder sprite. He had long hair like yours. Is he your father?”
The white sprite looked up, directly into her eyes, and gave a cheery squeak. Ellie grinned. That was a yes. Somehow these two seemed able to communicate emotion to her, much as the unicorn did. Cinder sprites were magical beings, but some of them, such as the elder sprite, had more control of their magic than others. Ellie shook her head. The complexities of the magic world seemed endless. Even her tutor Arabella still had much to learn.
Three years ago, cinder sprites had begun to appear on Faraway Castle property, triggering fear in resident pixies who believed (for no logical reason) that sprites threatened their food supply and homes. A group of pixies had begun threatening and frightening sprites in the attempt to eliminate them, for once a sprite burst into flame it would burn until it died.
That crisis had been the impetus for Ellie’s promotion from ordinary worker to Controller of Magical Creatures, a position created for her by the Gamekeeper himself, much to the director’s disgust. Ellie could trap most small magical beings who caused problems for the resort, but pixies had proven uniquely resistant to her magic. The elder sprite Starfire was the Gamekeeper’s provision for pixie-protection for sprites and humans alike. Ellie had met the large, dignified sprite only once, but she knew he must still be around, for she seldom glimpsed pixies anymore, and cinder sprites were thriving. Ellie prided herself on her part in bringing these charming creatures back from the brink of self-extinction, for her herbal spray combined with her magic was the only known means of saving a sprite once it had “gone ember.”
Before Ellie left for work, the two sprites were comfortably settled in a cage on her chest of drawers. With hay for bedding (and snacks) a generous supply of fresh greens, and a tube and a few balls for entertainment, they frolicked happily and even groomed Ellie’s fingers with tiny pink tongues when she reached in to pet them.
Her prospects suddenly looked much brighter. She had a purpose in the world, a niche no royal princess could fill, no matter how blue her blood. Perspective was a wonderful thing.
Ellie worked that morning in the gardens with Rosa until a sprite event in a castle storeroom interrupted her tree-trimming. She handled everything with calm expertise and welcomed the emergency. She was professional. She was independent. She was impervious.
Until she carried a stack of cages through the side garden gate and heard running feet and a chorus of happy cries: “Ellie! Miss Ellie, did you catch more cinder sprites?”
Ellie stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes, and dammed up the rush of emotion threatening to flood her soul. Then she turned to smile at the Zeidan children. “I did! A whole family of them. One with tiny babies.”
The children clustered around her, the two youngest hopping up and down on the service road, all talking at once. “Ellie, why haven’t you been at the lake? Ellie, we miss you! Ellie, may I hold one? Ellie . . .”
She set down the cages and distributed hugs all around. Even Rafiq accepted one. “I have missed you too, my dears. Have you been at the beach today?”
“We were going there,” he said, “but then Nanny had a headache and wanted a nap, so Omar said we could come and watch him play tennis—there’s a playground right by the courts—so that’s what we’re doing now.”
Ellie gave Rafiq a level look. “You are watching Omar play tennis?” She glanced around. “Some kind of new magical ability?”
Rafiq rolled his eyes. “The courts are right over there. We saw you, and . . .” He shrugged, then picked up two sprite cages. “We came to help.”
Explanation finished.
“Omar won’t mind,” Yasmine said. “He misses you too. He said so.”
The children knew nothing about the unicorn expedition or its aftermath, of course. “Why don’t you play with him?” Rita asked, hopping around Ellie’s legs.
“Tennis, you mean? I have to work,” Ellie said. “Tell you what. You all can help me carry the cinder sprites to my cottage, and then I’ll walk you back to the tennis courts. And we’ll hope Omar doesn’t notice you’re missing.”
The children all agreed and rushed through the gate and the garden, then into the castle through a service door to collect cages. “We could help you in the garden too,” Yasmine suggested.
“Thank you for the offer, but maybe another time,” Ellie said, stacking two more cages atop the two already in Rafiq’s arms. This sprite catch had been her largest yet: twelve, counting the litter of new babies. Once the children were loaded down with cages—Rita carrying only one but intensely proud and careful of her burden—they all trooped down the garden path, through the gate, along the service road, then through the strip of pines into the staff living quarters.
Seeing Ellie’s home was a huge thrill for Rita and Karim, who tested every chair and searched her refrigerator. She allowed them to distribute carrots to the sprites, who perked up immediately. Three were still recovering from effects of going ember, but the others puffed and squeaked and munched. The children squeaked back to them, and a loud chorus soon filled the cottage.