2. Chapter 2
2
BEATRICE
I expected to be too excited to sleep, but the next thing I knew, it was morning. I washed my face, braided my hair, and dressed before Auntie showed up in the main room, yawning.
“Good morning.” She approved my appearance in a glance. “I forgot to request morning coffee. Ah, well.”
I pressed my nose and hands to one of the picture windows, fascinated by the glittering lake that now reflected snow-topped mountains. I fully expected to see a dragon or two, and maybe a knight in shining armor. That train of thought somehow produced a question: “Who are the tiny brown people I saw last night?”
“Brownies.” Auntie Bella sounded pleased. “They live and work in Faraway Castle because they enjoy cooking, cleaning, and serving above all things. Non-magical guests, who either cannot or choose not to see the magic in our world, believe their meals appear and their rooms are cleaned by magic. In a way they’re correct, but the brownies are the magic. You might get to speak with one at breakfast.”
I whipped around to beam at her. “Ooh, I hope so!”
Auntie quirked a brow. “They’ll love cleaning your finger- and nose-prints from that window.” When I whipped my hands behind my back, she chuckled. “No worries, child. You can trust the brownies and dwarves here.” After a pause, she added, “They’re loyal souls.”
“Papa wouldn’t be able to see the brownies, would he?” I said with certainty.
Auntie Bella dropped onto a settee as puckers formed between her sparse brows. “You understand a great deal more than I realized, child. Don’t tell anyone that you can sense magical things.”
Disappointment and a hint of rebellion rippled through me. “Why?”
She considered my question before answering, “Because knowledge is power. Your ability to discern magic is a useful yet static gift—which means you can’t do much with it. But if other people are unaware of your ability and you observe carefully, you will learn a great deal more about the magic around you. If you keep your gift secret—”
“Why doesn’t Papa like magic?”
“Hmm. It is rude to interrupt, but I’ll overlook it this time.” Tightening her thin lips, my grandaunt seemed to think hard before she spoke. “You perceive more than mere magic, child. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “You always tell me the truth.”
Emotions flickered across her face, softening its wrinkles. “I will never lie to you, dear child. However, I must sometimes save information for when you need to hear it. Do you trust me still?”
I thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m a child, and you’re really old. I trust you to tell me things when I need to know them.”
In quick succession, Auntie Bella looked as if she might laugh, scrunched her face, then blinked hard a few times before she stated, “Child, you are a blessing from heaven. I hope and pray you’ll enjoy the wonders of Faraway Castle this week and make new friends.”
I hopped up and skipped around the room, chanting, “I want to make lots and lots of friends, and I want to see lots of magical things other people can’t see!” then attempted a somersault over the back of the sofa, which didn’t end well.
Instead of chiding me to behave like a lady, Auntie chuckled. “You may speak to the magical people and creatures when no humans are around. But don’t let anyone else know what you see.”
“It’s our secret!” I scrambled to my feet. “When do we eat?”
After breakfast, Auntie signed me up for programs and activities designed for guests my age. I didn’t know any of the children, which wasn’t much fun, but I could swim and ride, and I enjoyed competitive games, so I soon became part of a little crowd.
Our life at Faraway Castle settled into delightful routines. I always petted and kissed the eagle-headed statue when we passed it, greeted every brownie we met in the halls, and looked for magic everywhere. And then, early one morning, Auntie took me to a tea party in the cottage garden. As the only child among a bunch of old ladies, I did my best to be polite, but boredom set in quickly. With one of her knowing smiles, Auntie said, “You may explore to your heart’s content, child, but do not step outside the garden walls. Do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As it turned out, that one limit was no problem, since the terraced gardens stepping down the hillside behind the castle were an endless source of delight. I discovered a maze with a fishpond in the middle, and several fountains and topiaries, not to mention all the butterflies and birds. I was almost sure I glimpsed a flower fairy in the lowest garden, but it might have been a shiny insect.
I was looking for more fairies when an old gardener with twinkling eyes paused to warn me: “Now, you’ll want to watch out for cinder sprites, missy.”
“What are cinder sprites?” I asked.
“They’re furry little beasts that burst into flames and die if they become frightened or angry,” he said.
Naturally, after that description, I desperately hoped to see one.
And soon afterward, a furry white creature with spiraled horns and tiny gray feet trotted right across my path and into the formal rose garden. I kept my distance for fear of frightening it into combustion, but it vanished as soon as I followed it through a rose-covered archway in a tall box hedge.
Disappointed, I scouted the area, hoping for another glimpse. With cinder sprites foremost in my mind, I followed the sound of water to a lovely fountain with stone unicorns that appeared to play in its sparkling spray. Heaving a sigh, I gushed, “How beautiful!”
“What are you doing here?”
With a start of surprise, I turned to see a boy in uncomfortable-looking clothes: a white shirt, and a button-up jacket, short pants, and cap of gray wool, along with laced-up leather shoes and dark knee socks. Maybe a guest from some distant country? He looked a few years older than me. “I’m enjoying the gardens,” I informed him politely. “I’m a guest.”
“No, you’re not. I would know if we had guests. How did you get here?”
I realized he wasn’t angry or threatening, just curious. And he had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. Gold, like my father’s watch.
“I came with my grandaunt. We’re staying at Faraway Castle for two weeks, and I’m really enjoying it so far, especially swimming in the lake. I might even learn to water-ski while we’re here.”
His brows rose. “How did you get into this garden?”
“I followed a cinder sprite.” I grinned at the memory. “Have you seen one yet? Nobody warned me they have horns.” I held my forefingers to my temples and spiraled them upward, almost inviting him to mock me.
“You followed a cinder sprite here?”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “My grandaunt lets me explore the gardens. She’s with a bunch of other old ladies having tea in the cottage garden this morning. I followed the cinder sprite. It looked kind of like a white wig on feet.”
The boy nodded, frowning a little, but not in an angry way. “You followed him here?” He repeated the question as if he hadn’t heard my first answer.
“Yes, he led me through a rose arbor in the box hedges, right back there.” I jerked one thumb over my shoulder. “But then he must’ve hidden somewhere. I haven’t seen this part of the garden before.” I looked up and around at the trees. “Huh! You can’t even see the castle from here.”
“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly.
“Beatrice. It means ‘voyager’ or ‘blessed.’ I like name meanings. What’s your name?”
“Othniel,” he said as if expecting a bad reaction.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before. What does it mean?”
He shrugged. “My grandfather says it means ‘God’s lion.’ Would you like to see more cinder sprites, Beatrice?”
My heart nearly skipped a beat at his switch from wary to friendly. “Sure!” I paused, then dared to attempt his name. “Othniel.”
“C’mon. I’ll introduce you around.”
My guard lowered further as he led me into a wilder-looking part of the gardens, with fir trees and rocky slopes. “Cinder sprites like to nest around here. If we sit quietly, they might come out to greet you.”
Once we both sat cross-legged on a sunny patch of grass, I felt brave enough to say, “You’re the politest boy I’ve ever met.” Othniel didn’t respond, but a whole troop of cinder sprites emerged, one by one, from their hiding places to graze, chatter, fight mock battles, and chase each other around.
The baby cinder sprites were just about the cutest things I’d ever seen, with their big heads and feet and ears and itty-bitty nubs of horns. When they opened their tiny mouths to squeak or ran after their mothers, I laughed so hard I got hiccups.
“What do you call cinder sprite babies? Squeakers? Spritelets?”
Othniel laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I liked him. His short wavy hair shone like gold with the sun on it. Even his skin had a golden tint from the sun.
“They’re called pups,” he said with a shrug, “but ‘squeakers’ is better.”
Just then, I was too shy to look at him again. I’d never felt like that about a boy before—most of them were just annoying. I think he felt awkward too, but we both could talk easily about cinder sprites, so we did.
The sprites moved on after a while, but one mother and her pups stuck around, nibbling at weeds. She was glossy black, and her hair parted neatly down the middle of her back, but the hair around her horns fell forward like a silky veil over her face with a white streak spreading down its center. When her two tiny pups scrambled into my lap and fell asleep, using my skirt like a hammock, I could hardly breathe for delight.
The gentle mother chortled at me and nibbled at my sandal’s strap. “I don’t think you’ll find my shoe very appetizing,” I told her, offering her a dandelion leaf, which she devoured.
“You talk almost like a grownup,” Othniel observed from his perch on a rock. “How old are you?”
“Seven. I read a lot.” Then I dared to ask, “How old are you?”
“Ten.”
How thrilling, to be friends with an older boy!
I heard a cheery whistle, and the white cinder sprite I’d followed appeared near us. “That’s him!” I said in a near whisper. He greeted the mother sprite with a nuzzle, peered at the babies in my lap, then looked directly up at me through his hair. For the first time I saw that his eyes were black, and his nose and ears were dark gray like his horns and feet.
“That’s Starfire,” Othniel said. “I figured he was the sprite you saw. He’s . . . well, he’s very magical.”
“Hello, Starfire!” I addressed the sprite. “Thank you for leading me here.”
When he chirped back at me, his head jerked, making his heavy “bangs” flop up and down. Did he just say you’re welcome? I blinked hard and admonished myself not to be silly. He then greeted Othniel with a dip of his head and horns.
Othniel quirked a brow. “Sorry, fella. I didn’t bring any carrots. Next time. Maybe some apples too.”
“Is he their father?” I asked, indicating the dozing babies in my lap.
Othniel shrugged one shoulder. “Probably. I usually see him with her.” He pointed at the mother sprite, who gave him a friendly look while devouring a weed. “I don’t know her name though.”
The mother sprite swallowed the leaf, directly met my gaze, and muttered a few short chirps and squeaks. I sucked in a little gasp. “She says her name is Comet because of the white streak in her hair.”
Othniel opened his mouth to argue—I could tell by his expression—but when Starfire chortled, he stopped and gave me a wide-eyed look. “How do you know? Do you have magic?”
I couldn’t answer his questions in a way Auntie would approve, so I said, “All I heard was squeaking, but . . . it was like she spoke inside my head.” Just then, Comet joined her pups in my lap and began nuzzling to wake them up. After a few sleepy squeaks, they tucked their heads under her belly and nursed while she crouched over them. I grinned up at Othniel. “This has to be the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me!”
He grinned back, plowed his fingers through his hair, and hopped off the rock. “It’s getting hot here in the sun. Want to wade in the pond?”
“Is the pond in the garden?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, yes, I’ll wade with you. But not until they finish eating.” I pointed at my lap.
Othniel nodded and began pacing. “Comet and Starfire. I wonder if their pups have sky names too.”
Comet looked at him, then straight up at me. I glimpsed her pink tongue when she chattered, and as soon as she stopped, I said, “Moonlight and Midnight,” pointing at the white baby and the solid black one in turn. “Comet says Moonlight will look like Starfire when she grows up.”
The boy gave me an appreciative look. “I can only understand Starfire. Guess I need to keep you around to translate for Comet.”
My heart gave a happy skip. “I bet you could understand them if you really tried. You have magic too.”
“No, I don’t.” He turned sharply to meet my gaze. “I can’t have magic.” Then he paused, looking confused. “I mean . . . it would be dangerous if other people found out.”
“Oh!” I returned his stare, then gave him a sympathetic nod. “My father would be horrified too. He only let my auntie bring me here on holiday because most of the resort guests aren’t magical.”
Comet hopped off my lap and turned back to chatter at her pups. They seemed uncertain how to climb down, so I carefully helped them to the ground and watched them patter away after their mother. “Goodbye,” I called softly. Starfire gave me a nod and a farewell squeak, then followed his family into the shrubbery. I sighed, wondering if I would ever see them again.
“C’mon.” Othniel beckoned and set off along the nearest path. “It’s not far.”
“Wait up!” I scrambled to my feet, followed him up a forested slope, then half ran, half slid down a gradual bank to reach a large pond that reflected willows, birches, and other trees I couldn’t name. Its shore was sandy and clean. Othniel had already discarded his jacket, socks, and shoes, so I eagerly pulled off my sneakers. We waded and splashed in the cool water, chasing little fish, and frightening a few frogs.
“Do you like animals?” he asked. “I mean, besides cinder sprites?”
“Very much.”
“I have a horse, but indoor pets aren’t allowed. So, I have outdoor pets my parents don’t know about.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling.
I couldn’t help smiling back. “I would like a horse, I think. A small one. My auntie says having animals in the house is unsanitary, but I’ve always wanted a bird, or maybe a cat.”
Before he could respond, something out in the lake made a great splash. “What was that?” I backed toward the shore, staring at the approaching ripples.
“How do you feel about water animals?” Othniel hadn’t moved. “I mean, like fish or salamanders?” Waves lapped around his legs.
I put on a brave face. “I’ve never seen a salamander, but I think fish are interesting. Mostly I’ve just eaten them though.”
“What about snakes or eels?”
I shrugged, trying my best not to shudder. “I guess I wouldn’t mind them if they don’t bite.”
“Good.” His grin reappeared. “I want to introduce you to my friend, who’s not really a pet. For a lake monster, he isn’t large. He’s young, I think. He likes to show up wherever I am if there’s enough water.”
A thrill ran through me, part excitement and part fear. “He’s a magical monster?”
“Quite,” he answered with conviction.
“Have you seen many magical creatures in the gardens?” My heart pounded in a confusing blend of anticipation and terror.
“Sure.”
“Unicorns?” I nearly whispered. “Real ones?”
“Not here in the city, but sometimes I see them in the mountains.” He looked smug. “They’re really shy though. Watch this.” Before I could question his odd statement, he turned, cupped his hands around his mouth, and gave a whoop.
A ripple appeared in the middle of the lake and approached with alarming speed. I backpedaled, tripped, and sat down hard on the sand just before a greenish-gray dripping thing rose from the water.
A little yelp escaped before I clapped my hand over my mouth.
The creature resembled a thick, slimy broken branch that had soaked in the lake for years and got covered in moss and weeds, but it had round yellow eyes and what looked like a horse’s nostrils. It opened its mouth, showing impossible teeth like an arsenal of curved daggers, and when Othniel flung a stick out into the lake, it turned around and chased it (nearly soaking me in the splash), brought it back, and begged him to throw it again, closing its jaws with alarming chopping sounds. “Beatrice,” Othniel said, grinning from ear to ear, “meet Bo.”
I couldn’t move, my gaze fixed on the nightmare creature.
But when those unblinking eyes met my gaze, I felt a rush of . . . hopefulness? My fear drained away, and I recognized a friend. “Hello, Bo.” The lake monster gave his head a shake, spattering water in all directions while the spines down his back clattered almost like music.
My tight lips softened into a smile, and I felt light enough to fly or sing . . . or even whirl and leap like a ballerina. Magic was thrilling! Sure, Othniel was old friends with the lake monster, but it liked me too. And a cinder sprite had talked to me!
All too soon, Othniel thanked Bo for coming, and the friendly serpent-thing gave me another toothy grin and a nod before diving back into the lake. I watched the ripples spread before daring to meet Othniel’s gaze. He looked pleased. “You didn’t scream.”
I tilted my chin up. “Why would I scream?”
He blurted out a short laugh. “Because he terrified you. You’re really brave.”
I appreciated that he didn’t add “for a girl.” But just then my stomach growled.
“Oh no!” It had to be a long time since my cinnamon bun and tea. I must have missed all my morning activities, but I didn’t want him to know. “My grandaunt will be looking for me. I’ve got to go back to the rose garden.”
His brows rose, but he simply said, “I’ll escort you to where I found you. It’s easy to get turned around on these paths.”
My stomach clenched a little. “I hope Auntie isn’t worried.”
“You’ll be fine. Most magical gates like to mess with time.”
I really should have asked what he meant by that.
We soon passed the unicorn fountain, and the box hedge with the rose arbor came into sight far sooner than I’d expected. Maybe the garden wasn’t so large after all.
“Thank you for a fun day,” I said, turning to look up at my new friend.
He stared along the hedge, wearing an expression I couldn’t read, but then he turned to smile at me. “I’m awfully glad you came.” An instant later he looked away and stepped back, his face flushed like sunburn. “Come visit again, and I’ll take you swimming with Bo if you dress for it.”
If he could swim with that creature, so could I. With an eager nod, I said, “I’ll try to come back tomorrow.” When his face lit up, my heart gave a skip.
Then I shocked myself by standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek, and he leaned down a little to let me. “Thanks for a fun morning.” Embarrassed, I rushed through the opening, and when I stopped to look back, I saw only rose bushes beyond the arbor. “See you tomorrow!” I called. He didn’t answer, but sometimes boys were funny that way. Maybe he was embarrassed too?
My first impulse was to tell Auntie about my adventure, but by the time I joined her group of old ladies, my steps began to drag. What if she disapproved of my friendship with a big boy?
ARABELLA
“She did it!”
“Do tell.” Pukai scrupulously avoided revealing emotion, so the slight hitch in her breath and twitch of a brow delighted me.
I paced across the cave’s uneven floor, feeling deservedly smug. “This morning, I gave her opportunity to explore the resort gardens, like we discussed, and I’m positive it worked. Most days, she tells me everything she experiences in fine detail. But today, she ran up to me and apologized for being gone for so long. Nothing more. And when I told her she still had plenty of time to explore, her eyes went very wide. As you no doubt recall, this morning was overcast and misty, but Beatrice came back sunburned, and her clothes were damp and sandy.”
Pukai’s brow twitched again. “How long was she gone?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”
“She might have waded in a pond.”
“There is no sand in the resort gardens, and the sunburn?”
Pukai’s frown is as beautiful as her smile (sometimes I almost hate her). “I do hope you’re right about this. Now what?”
She had me there. “I haven’t the slightest. We go home and wait for her to grow up, I guess.”
“Nonsense. He must win her heart as he is now. We don’t dare waste time or opportunities. You must look for a way to get her back here as soon and as often as possible. I suggest you connect the girl with a family who comes here regularly. Time is running out, and if he fails . . . Well, you know the rest.”