Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(52)
The coach seemed to float over the road without a bump or jolt. Aside from the rush of wind and an occasional happy squeak or chortle from a sprite, the journey was uncannily quiet. By the time Ellie thought to peer out the windows, she saw nothing but trees flashing past, with occasional open views of mountainous terrain beneath a colorful sunset sky. Recalling that unicorns pulled the coach, Ellie put all worries about time out of her head and leaned back, resting her eyes. The feathered domino made it difficult to see much anyway.
What would Omar think when she entered the ballroom? Would he recognize her?
“We are nearly to the castle, my lady,” the pooka called to her. “Where would you like to be dropped off? In the lake?”
She heard a chorus of protests from the unicorns, and Ucal’s assurance rose above the rest. “Don’t mind him. We have orders to deliver you to the door of Faraway Castle. Your friends Sparki and Frosti will direct us there.”
“Thank you, all of you,” Ellie said aloud. She hadn’t recognized her sprite friends in their ember form.
The castle glittered with paper lanterns, spotlights, and tiny white lights strung around pillars, doors, and windows. Several fine automobiles and limousines waited in a queue, yet somehow there was room for Ellie’s coach directly before the main doors. A liveried footman opened her coach door, pulled out the step, and offered his gloved hand. “My lady,” he said politely.
Ellie restrained a smile, recognizing her old friend Ben Weatherby, one of the groundskeepers. She laid her gloved hand in his and stepped gracefully from the coach. His eyes widened at the sight of her, but he did not return her friendly smile. “My lady,” he breathed in wonder.
Before he could escort her inside, she turned back to thank the magical creatures—only to realize with a start that a glamour now disguised them even from her eyes. Lightbulbs burned in the coach lamps, a man in a gray wig and sharp livery sat on the box (he winked at her), and six fine coach horses tossed their heads. But then two of the side lamps blinked, and one of the horses turned its head to look directly at her. She heard cinder sprites squeak and puff along with Ucal’s gentle farewell: “Our love and blessing to you, Miss Cinder Ellie.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. The coachman lifted the reins, and the coach pulled away with a great clatter of horse hooves on the brick drive. It moved into the shadows and was gone.
Along with her backpack.
The inside of the castle was as transformed as its exterior, with lights twinkling everywhere. Ellie had often seen it decorated for dances and other special occasions, yet something about this night was different, and she didn’t believe the difference was only in her perception. Perhaps she had brought magic with her from the Gamekeeper’s house?
Older guests congregated in the large seating area in the lobby, most of them beautifully dressed and the ladies glittering with jewels. A few wore masks, but most didn’t bother. A masquerade was for the young people. Small children and their hovering nannies dashed here and there, and staff members rushed about on errands. Ellie sensed curiosity and admiration from people she passed, and she wondered if they sensed the magic surrounding her as well.
Tonight she could do anything, be anything. And more than anything else, she wished to dance with Prince Omar of Khenifra and be seen by others as his equal, not in rank but in value. Omar was a good dancer, she knew, having watched him furtively over the years at many events. Not a particularly inspired dancer, but expertly trained and graceful. Ellie had always considered herself his opposite, inspired but not trained. Now she knew better, and the knowledge fueled her excitement and anticipation.
As she approached the ballroom, brownies darted past her feet. The guests could not see them and even overlooked the objects they carried, and the little creatures nimbly dodged feet and skirts without dropping a fork or a chocolate biscuit. Every one of them greeted Ellie by name, and not one seemed to notice her unusual appearance.
Sira, carrying a stack of dirty plates, paused to address her, concern etched in her small brown forehead beneath a neat white cap. “Miss Ellie, Geraldo has sworn to steal a cake off the dessert table tonight, and he’s persuaded the other hobgoblins to help him. You know they will end up dumping it on the floor and allow children to take the blame!”
Ellie couldn’t help smiling. The hobgoblins’ purpose in life seemed to include doubling the brownies’ workload. Yet Sira worried only about trouble for the human children.
“I will try to keep an eye on him,” she said. “Everything looks amazing, Sira. Please share my appreciation with the other brownies.”
Sira merely nodded before trotting away. “Enjoy yourself, Miss Ellie.” Her little voice trailed behind her.
“Thank you, Sira.”
A few guests watched Ellie talk to the floor, their faces revealing doubt of her sanity, yet not one said a word. She beamed a general smile at the spectators then picked up her skirts and hurried toward the ballroom door. Music floated into the hall, a modern love song. The live bands always played a variety of dance tunes to satisfy guests of all ages and nations.
She paused in the doorway before entering. Often she had imagined entering this room as a guest, but never once had she believed her daydream could come true. Would it end in bliss or in nightmare?
Music, conversation, and laughter filled the air, along with delectable scents from the buffet tables. The floor, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the gleaming chandeliers and strings of lights, resembling a starlit lake. Couples floated over the dance floor, their attire ranging from elegant ballgowns, modern cocktail dresses, and tuxedos to historical or national costumes. Everyone on the dance floor wore a mask of some kind, as did most of those on the outskirts. Ellie identified a few people yet thought it strange how even the simplest mask could transform a friend into a mysterious stranger. But she could delve behind the masks if she tried . . .