Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(51)
“I believe you should.”
Without another word, the Gamekeeper continued up the stairs and led Ellie into a suite of rooms far finer than her guestroom. There he opened an enormous wardrobe to reveal gowns of every imaginable color and style, layer upon layer of them.
Ellie realized vaguely that there were too many gowns for the size of the wardrobe but set aside that thought for another time. For the Gamekeeper drew out a violet gown made of some shimmery substance she could not identify and said, “You may wear this to the Summer Ball, if you so choose.” He hung the gown on the wardrobe door, then handed Ellie a matching creation of feathers and sparkling stones—an elaborate feathered domino.
She stared at the mask, then at the gown, then at the Gamekeeper. “But how can I attend the ball? Even with a gown, I am only a staff member, not a guest.”
“Not one of Faraway Castle’s workers is ‘only’ a staff member, Miss Calmer. You are a gifted enchantress in the truest sense of the word, you are a woman who understands how to love unselfishly, and you are a lady from your heart outward. No amount of royal blood could make you worthier to attend this ball than you already are. Your prince Omar understands this as few people do.”
Ellie gaped in awe at these declarations spoken in a regal voice so different from the Gamekeeper’s usual quiet tones. “But Omar . . . My position . . .”
“Neither you nor the prince will suffer from your attendance at this ball. Take courage, Miss Calmer. Do this for Omar’s sake.”
Ellie felt courage rise in her breast, and with a lift of her chin and a squaring of her shoulders, she stated, “I shall attend the Summer Ball, and I shall dance with Prince Omar!”
Afterward she could never clearly recall the period immediately following her declaration, but she knew that the Gamekeeper had vanished again. His servants dressed her in the fabulous gown and domino, along with glittering jewelry and white gloves. The one thing she did not allow was an ornate hairstyle; she felt far more comfortable in her usual simple ponytail, dressed up with a few flowers.
After a wondering stare at her reflection in a tall mirror—even with the ponytail she looked like a stranger—Ellie walked down the castle’s front steps to behold a wondrous golden coach hitched to six unicorns, which nodded graciously to her and communicated that they had volunteered for the honor of drawing it and were delighted to be chosen. The Gamekeeper had designed the coach for the occasion, she learned.
“Out of a pumpkin,” an actual voice said, interrupting the unicorns. “It was the shape he needed and near at hand. Try not to let your gown touch the inner walls or it might stain.” Ellie felt a chill down her spine at the laugh following this disclosure. One of the pookas, now in more-or-less human form, sat on the driver’s seat with the reins in one distorted hand, his yellow eyes aglow, his large buck teeth gleaming in a wide grin.
“Indeed! How very . . . creative.” Ellie tried to return the creature’s disturbing smile and was profoundly relieved when the unicorn she recognized as Ulrica’s mate spoke clearly into her mind: “Never fear, Ellie Calmer. We unicorns will deliver you directly to the ball no matter what tricks the pooka might attempt.”
Hearing a muffled squeak, Ellie glanced at a coach lamp, then stared around in dismay. Inside each lamp glowed a flaming ball with bright red eyes. Had these cinder sprites been frightened or enraged to the point of going ember? The idea disturbed her deeply. But Ulrica’s mate, Ucal, as he introduced himself, assured her: “The sprites are delighted to provide your lighting, my lady. Nothing but excitement fuels their glow, and they will not burn out. On this blessed day you are a great lady in the eyes of all magical creatures, for you rescued my wife and son.”
Invisible hands opened the coach door, and Ellie stepped forward as if in a dream. Just as she lifted her skirts to climb inside, the Gamekeeper spoke at her elbow, giving her an inward jar. But she stepped back with composure and smiled, gradually processing his words: “I have one more gift for you, Miss Calmer.”
He didn’t seem to notice the slight pause between his words and her glance downward at the object in his hand. Objects, for it was a pair of shoes. “Glass dancing slippers? Did you make those for me?”
“They are exactly like your work shoes in size and durability,” he said quietly.
Ellie leaned against the coach doorway, pulled off her clunky work shoes, and slipped on the tempered-glass dancing shoes. Invisible hands picked up the old shoes and placed them in her pack, then stowed the pack in a bin behind the driver’s seat, but Ellie scarcely noticed.
She paced back and forth beside the coach. “They are comfortable as well as beautiful.” When she lifted her skirts to peer at her feet, the faceted-glass slippers sparkled. “Thank you for everything, my kind friend, and especially for the shoes. They even make my feet look small! Your magic never fails to amaze me.”
The tears in her eyes made him seem more shadowy than ever. Nothing she could say or do would ever repay his generosity and goodness.
He spoke as if reading her thoughts, his voice quiet yet profoundly deep: “I ask only that you allow nothing to destroy your joy tonight, Miss Calmer.”
Ellie nodded, lips quivering, her heart too full even for a smile.
Then she climbed into the coach, waved out the window, and called, “Thank you, everyone!” then settled back on the cushioned seat. The interior walls of the coach were similar in hue to a squash, but she detected neither moisture nor vegetable scent, no matter what the pooka said.