Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle Book 1) Page 2

  “Where is it coming from? Is there another baby sprite in the suite?” Ellie snatched an empty cage and the spray bottle from her pack then stepped slowly along the passage with her head tilted to better judge direction. “How many sprites did you catch?”

  The older children shrugged. “There were a whole bunch of them,” Karim said, trying to be helpful.

  Ellie pinpointed the sound: It came from behind a closed door on her left. Even as she paused to make certain, there came one last plaintive squeal followed by the distinctive whoomp of a sprite going ember. She flung open the door and rushed into a chamber so dark that she immediately spotted the orange glow of the baby sprite, which took one look at her and ran, igniting a swath of dangling fabric as it disappeared beneath a large piece of furniture.

  With one flying leap, Ellie caught up the cloth and beat out the flame with her gloved hands, then sprawled on the floor and shoved herself under what seemed to be a bed. In the pulsing glow of the sprite she saw a stray sock and a pair of men’s bedroom slippers. The baby sprite cowered against the wall, well out of her reach, igniting unlucky dust bunnies with bright little flares.

  Ellie scooted toward it using her elbows, shoving the cage and spray bottle ahead of her, kicking and wriggling to force certain portions of her anatomy into the tight space, and losing both shoes in the process. “It’s okay, little one,” she assured the sprite breathlessly while moving her bottle into position. It hissed and crackled in reply. Once ignited, sprites were not so cute. Their big eyes glowed red, and their furry bodies looked like coals in a bonfire.

  A quick spray, a softer hiss, and the tiny sprite dissolved into a puddle. “Rafiq,” she said, “would you bring me my pack, please?”

  “Sure, Ellie,” he said. Ellie thought she heard giggles from the children. Only then did she realize how unladylike was her position despite the once-piece coverall she wore while working.

  “Do my feet look funny, sticking out from under the bed?” she asked, then sneezed, smacking her chin on the floor below and rebounding her head into the bed frame above. “Oh, ouch!” she moaned. “It’s dusty under here!”

  The giggles became much louder, and Ellie distinctly heard and felt something move on the bed above her. Were the children bouncing up there? Springs squeaked, and feet thumped on the floor. She heard whispers and more laughter. “Rafiq, did you find my pack? Can you please slide my scoop to me?”

  “Here it is,” the boy said, easily scooting under the bed alongside her. She took the pack and awkwardly felt around in it for her scoop. “Where’s the sprite?” Rafiq asked, peering around in the shadows.

  The room suddenly got much brighter; someone had pushed open the draperies.

  “Right here.” Ellie carefully scooped up a limp, gooey lump that bore no resemblance to the lively creature it had been only moments before.

  “Eew, yuck,” the boy said, and quickly backed away. “It stinks worse than the others did.”

  “Sulfur,” Ellie told him. “This spray isn’t very effective against the smell. Now can you look in the sack and find my other spray bottle, please? It fixes things.”

  More whispering and giggles above, and again the bed springs creaked. What were those kids doing up there?

  She reached back her hand, and Rafiq laid the bottle in her palm then scooted out from under the bed, complaining loudly about the stink. Thinking of her favorite flower, Ellie sprayed the sticky place on the floor where the sprite had been, and the smell transformed into a faint scent of carnations while the stain disappeared. Now to back out of this very tight place, bringing along the cage and two bottles. She squirmed and shimmied carefully backward, shoving and pulling her tools across the floor. It was quiet in the room. Had the children run off?

  But after her kicking legs had emerged and she had to work harder to fit her hips under the bed frame, the giggles started all over again. She suddenly felt hot enough to “go ember” like a sprite herself. “Yes, I know, I’m too big to fit. But I did it, you must admit.” She squeezed the top half of herself into open air then rolled over and sat up, blinking in a ray of direct sunlight. Seeing Rita’s feet dangling off the bed beside her, she pulled off her gloves, reached out and caught one little shoe to make the child giggle, then froze.

  And slowly turned her head.

  Only inches away, a pair of big, dark eyes gazed at her from the edge of the bed. He lay flat on his belly with his stubbled chin resting on his brown hands. Glossy black hair stood out at all angles from his head.

  “Good morning, Miss Ellie,” said Prince Omar with a smile. “I hear you’ve just rescued me from a fiery death.”

  When Omar awoke to find younger siblings crawling over and around him, his first reaction was to shout—but a hand covered his mouth before a sound emerged. “Ellie the magic-creature lady is under your bed,” whispered Yasmine. “Please don’t scare her away.”

  Ellie? I must be dreaming, he thought. But the stink of sulfur and the sound of Ellie’s muffled voice snuffed that idea. He pulled his sister’s hand away and whispered the obvious question: “Why is she under my bed?”

  “She’s catching a cinder sprite that lit your sheets on fire.”

  Ellie Calmer is under my bed, he thought. No, it couldn’t be. But when he heard Ellie speak again then sneeze, and something bumped the bed from beneath, he threw off the blanket and sat upright, blood racing through his veins, while his little siblings snorted and giggled.

  “What?” he hissed, running one hand over his hair. Then panic struck. He wore only a pair of pajama pants covered in smiling green sea monsters, a gag gift from his sister Layla. Carefully he climbed out of bed and tiptoed across to where his white robe hung on a hook. While he tied its belt around his waist, Rafiq hissed to draw his attention, pointed at a pair of bare feet sticking out from beneath the hanging coverlet, then pointed at Omar and pantomimed laughing.

  Even he knew about Omar’s hopeless crush. Great.

  Ellie asked Rafiq if he was coming, and the little terror slithered under the bed, taking with him the pack Omar recognized as Ellie’s. Sunlight struck Omar’s face, making him wince—Yasmine was pushing open the heavy drapes. It was broad daylight. How late had he slept? His clothes were scattered across the room, and his travel bag lay open near the foot of the bed. He snatched up a sock and his jeans, then dropped them in a heap. What a disaster zone! He was a mess.

  He couldn’t just stand here in his robe and watch Ellie scoot out from under his bed. Should he pretend to be asleep? She would never believe it. He hurried to climb back on the bed. Rita and Karim bounced up to join him again, giggling like little maniacs.

  He heard Ellie and Rafiq talking, then his rascal brother emerged from hiding, wearing a mocking grin. Something sprayed, and a lovely scent replaced the sulphur stink. Omar heard Ellie shuffling. He looked down at himself and tugged the robe to cover his bare chest. No matter what he did or said, this would be embarrassing for her. There was no getting around that.

  Maybe if he looked relaxed and okay with it, as if girls emerged from under his bed every morn—No, wait, not that! How about if he looked grateful that she’d come to rescue him . . . which he was. He carefully lay down flat on the bed with his face at the edge . . . and immediately knew he’d done the wrong thing. But pretty much anything he did would be the wrong thing. At this point, he could only try to make her feel as comfortable as possible. If that were possible.

  His heart pounded in his chest, and his mouth went dry as he watched her decidedly feminine figure emerge feet-first from beneath his bed. Things like this simply didn’t happen to him—a beautiful girl under his bed, the very girl he had wished for years to know but was always too shy to approach. He wasn’t altogether certain yet that he wasn’t dreaming, particularly when Ellie turned her tousled head and looked directly into his eyes.

  Instead of stammering as he’d expected, he spoke with apparent confidence. Maybe her disheveled state and evident embarrassment served to leve
l the playing field? Her horrified expression worried him. What was she thinking? Did he look that bad? His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, but the need to set her at ease gave him a voice. “It’s remarkable how you can revive cinder sprites.”

  She released a little gasp. “I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here,” she said, her voice tremulous, her cheeks bright pink and smudged with dust. “I had no idea!” She shoved shoes onto her bare feet, shoes made of clear glass like the sprite cage beside her on the floor. Her feet and ankles were very pretty. So was the rest of her.

  “I arrived during the night,” he explained. The sunlight falling through the window turned Ellie’s hair to silvery gold. Gazing at her, Omar felt almost poetic, a strange sensation for a mathematician. Sadly, nothing poetic came out of his mouth. Rita climbed onto his back and tugged at his hair, which was distracting, not to mention painful, but he maintained focus. “Next thing I knew, I had kids bouncing on my back.” He propped up on his elbows and reached one hand to loosen Rita’s grasp on his hair. “So, how did a cinder sprite get in here?”

  Ellie opened her mouth, but Rafiq spoke first. “It was Karim’s idea. After breakfast we found the mother and her babies running around in the garden.”

  “There was nobody else around,” Karim added, “and they looked scared.”

  “We put them in a bucket and brought them inside to take care of them,” Yasmine contributed. “They were so sweet! We didn’t know they would catch fire.”

  “There was more than one in the suite?” Omar asked, looking to Ellie for confirmation. Her mouth still hung open, and her eyes were wide. His plan to soothe her fears didn’t seem to be working.

  She stopped gaping at him long enough to answer: “Yes, but only one in here. It must have squeezed under the door. I was preparing to leave when I heard it squeak and ignite.”

  “Oof!” he grunted. Rita had flopped down hard on his back, driving the air from his lungs. Enough of that. He quickly sat upright and crossed his legs, dragging his baby sister around to perch on one knee. She protested, then squirmed away and stood behind him, wrapping her little arms around his neck and shoving him forward. While doubled over, he got a close look at his sea-monster-covered pajama legs and died a little inside. If asked at that moment, Omar might have traded away one or two younger siblings for a monkey.

  “The sprites ran all over the sitting room,” Karim was saying. “They squeaked like this—” He performed an excellent imitation. “And they went ‘poof’ and Ellie had to spray ’em before the whole castle burnt down. You missed seeing all the fun.”

  “Oh, not all of it,” he said, then realized how that might be interpreted and nearly choked. The pink in Ellie’s cheeks spread over her entire face as she stuffed her gloves into her pack. Had he blown it completely? Her hands trembled, but she didn’t seem angry or disgusted. Hope revived.

  Karim scampered from the room, practicing his sprite calls.

  “My baby one burnded up.” Tugging at his robe, Rita spoke directly into Omar’s ear, her lips wet and tickling. He cringed. “But Ellie says he’s all right. She scoopded him up and put him in a box.”

  “And just now she scooped up the one from under your bed,” Rafiq said. “It was all gooey and stinky.”

  Yasmine spoke quietly from her perch on a chair near the door, her eyes wide and serious. “If Ellie hadn’t come in and put out the fire it made, you might have died.”

  “But all is well now, and I will send the sprites away to a safe place where they won’t harm anyone,” Ellie said, mostly to the children. Her soothing voice flowed over Omar’s spirit like warm honey. Then she looked up at him, all business again, with a worried crease between her brows. “I haven’t seen their nanny all morning.”

  He shrugged. “I would have said Rafiq was old enough to watch the little ones, but it seems I would have been wrong.”

  Rafiq glowered. “I didn’t know sprites were dangerous,” he mumbled.

  “Though you have been told many times every summer not to approach wild animals, particularly not magical creatures.” Omar spoke without removing his gaze from Ellie’s pale face while she scooted over to spray the burned sheet with a bottle of magical liquid. As the linen fabric mended itself, a fragrance reminiscent of a summer evening beside the lake replaced the scorched scent. Ellie looked up, caught his gaze, and blushed again. Quickly she turned back to her pack.

  Rafiq scrambled to his feet and left the room in a huff, mumbling under his breath.

  “Miss Ellie,” Omar said, hoping she might look at him again, “I apologize for causing you extra trouble. I shouldn’t have slept in so late. Usually Asmaa, the nanny, can keep this little mob under control, but obviously she needed help this morning.”

  Her gaze flashed up to meet his. “I don’t blame you. But whatever will your parents say about . . . about this?” She waved one hand vaguely, but he knew what she meant.

  “You saved the day,” he said firmly, “and that is all we will tell them.”

  He held her gaze for a golden moment, but then her lips set in a firm line and she focused on stuffing her spray bottles into her pack. She was not her usual confident, competent self. His hope slipped again. Did she like him at all, or was he upsetting her?

  Yasmine abruptly rushed from the room. He caught a glimpse of his little sister’s expression and wondered what had upset her.

  “Yasmine, wait!” Rita shouted in his ear, then lost her balance and nearly pulled Omar over by the neck of his robe in her hurry to follow her sister. He quickly grabbed her arms and helped her slide safely off the bed. She landed on her backside anyway, then rolled over, pushed herself up, and ran into the hallway, shouting “My sprite! My sprite!” in a squeaky voice.

  Aware that the dream was about to end, Omar slid off the bed and adjusted his robe just as Ellie scrambled to her feet. She looked up, stammered “Th-thank you,” and fled, her glass shoes clopping on the hardwood floor.

  Omar snatched up her forgotten pack and followed close behind, his bare feet padding silently. “Thank you again for saving us all,” he said, aware that he sounded foolish but unable to stop himself. “Miss Ellie, please . . .”

  She took the pack from him with lowered eyes and mumbled thanks, slung it over her shoulder, then paused inside the suite’s entry door to stack glass boxes in her arms. Now that sprites filled them, they no longer fit into her pack.

  “If you’ll wait a moment while I change, I can help you carry them down,” Omar said. Any excuse for more time with her.

  “Oh, don’t bother,” she said shortly. “I’ve carried more cages than this before.”

  “It’s no bother at all,” he began, just as the lock rattled and the door swung open to reveal the children’s nanny, her gray hair in a tangle, her expression both angry and worried.

  “Where are the children?” she asked.

  “Uh, around here somewhere. What happened to you, Asmaa?”

  “That young viper locked me into a garden shed!” she snapped. “Lured me in there with some story about a puppy, then shut and barred the door. If one of the gardeners hadn’t come along, I’d be there yet.” Then her face softened. “Welcome, Prince Omar. I’m glad you’ve joined us.”

  “Thank you, Asmaa. I apologize for my siblings’ behavior.”

  “It was Rafiq, of course,” she growled. Then her gaze moved to study Ellie in her dusty coverall. “Do I know this person?”

  He cringed inwardly at her disapproving tone. “This is Miss Ellie Calmer. The children brought cinder sprites into the suite, and the castle might be burning right now if Miss Calmer had not rushed to our rescue.”

  “Indeed.” Asmaa’s dark eyes narrowed. “And you not yet dressed, Omar.”

  His face burned. “I didn’t arrive until nearly three in the morning.”

  While they were speaking, Ellie slipped around the door and into the main hall, the cages stacked in her arms. Omar took a few steps toward his room. “Asmaa, the kids are
around here somewhere. I’ve got to get dressed and help Miss Ellie with those cages.”

  With any luck, he thought, he might catch Ellie on the stairs. With any luck, she would find the load too unwieldy and need to stop once or twice. In his room he threw on shorts, t-shirt, and shoes, then dashed after her, guessing she would use the service stairs. She was halfway down the second flight, precariously balancing her load of squeaking sprites, when he caught up and passed her.

  “Here, let me take some of those,” he offered, and she gave such a start that he seized the top cage to save it from bouncing down the remaining stairs.

  “No, no, please!” Even as he took another cage from her load, she gave him an imploring look. “I could lose my position here if you’re seen helping me or even talking with me. And if the director heard that I was in your . . . your bedroom . . .” She visibly shuddered.

  His hope withered. “I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll make certain the children keep quiet. They definitely don’t want you to leave Faraway Castle,” he said. “I won’t try to help if it’ll cause you trouble. That’s the last thing I want.”

  She moved on down the last few stairs. At the base of that flight, he replaced the two cages atop her load. “I’m really sorry if I . . . if I upset you, Miss Ellie. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything.” He gave her an awkward little bow.

  She looked up, and he saw something in her gaze that was nothing like anger or disgust. The corners of her lips turned up slightly. But then her lashes lowered, and she continued down the next flight of stairs. He headed back upstairs toward the suite, his heart heavy.

  His parents wanted him to choose a wife this summer from among the princesses and ladies who visited the resort every year. He had delayed joining his family for as long as possible, dreading the ordeal he knew lay ahead, but now he was glad he’d come.

  Not that the king and queen of Khenifra would accept Ellie Calmer as a prospective wife for their son, but at least he would be near her for the next few weeks. He might glimpse her in the halls or at the lake or anywhere on the grounds, and perhaps he would find, or invent, a respectable opportunity to speak with her again.