9. Chapter 9
9
BEATRICE
Back home at Castle Iker, I spent most of my time bawling, fuming, and moping. Most of the servants gave me a wide berth, and even our old cook resorted to feeding me chocolate from a safe distance rather than risk causing another meltdown. My father was out of the country and still unaware of my downfall. What would I tell him? Anger about the unfairness of it all blended with my desperation.
What did the Gamekeeper think of me now? If he’d received my message and tried to meet me as requested, I could now add standing him up to my offences.
How could I ever mend the rift I’d caused between us? I certainly wouldn’t be returning to Faraway Castle as a guest—I couldn’t afford even a weekend at the place now that I’d lost my income. My mind shuffled through useless ideas. I could call the resort’s front desk, which had a landline telephone, but how does one leave a message for an invisible magical entity? Maybe I should ask Sten to explain things for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone.
In the end, I made possibly the worst decision, which was to waffle, argue with myself, and finally do nothing.
Auntie Bella dropped in for a stay a week later, after news of my downfall caught up with her. Her reaction was an old-fashioned tongue-lashing that undoubtedly did me more good than the commiseration I’d craved.
“So, you lost your prestigious position through no actual fault of your own. Huh! Welcome to the real world, girl. You’ve had your cry, plus some. It’s time to grow a backbone and use your sparkling résumé to acquire the job you really want.”
Auntie’s practicality spurred me out of my personal slough of despond. After all, King Koldo’s people had provided me a stellar recommendation letter (I suspected Queen Jakinda’s influence there—she really was a gem, Eddi’s opinion notwithstanding), and word of my availability spread quickly. To my surprise, socially ambitious parents worldwide nearly climbed over each other to hire the recently dismissed former nanny/tutor/companion of a royal princess. I can offer no reasonable explanation for this behavior (I was fired, people!), but I’m certainly not complaining.
While working out these changes in my life, I purchased a car, learned to drive it, and discovered how much I enjoyed the independence it offered. Papa was seldom home—his value to the government seemed to increase by the year—but he was quietly proud of my achievements. More than once, I recalled the Gamekeeper’s words about the connection between wisdom and humility, and I wondered if he would also approve of my choices.
Oh, how I missed him!
I finally chose a day job as tutor/nanny to a family within easy driving distance. Heloise and Pearl, ages eleven and nine, were sweet and well-behaved girls, and their parents were thrilled to have me. I agreed to accept occasional weekend duty for bonus pay, which sometimes felt more like vacation time than work, since I accompanied my charges to dance classes, historical or natural-history sites, and even the occasional play or party. In my free time, I worked to make Castle Iker feel less like a medieval relic and more like a home. Papa appreciated my efforts and made a concerted effort to come home more often.
Despite her crazy-busy schedule, Princess Eddi called me regularly. Sometimes she only wanted to complain about her stepmother, her baby brother, and other changes in her life, but I could usually distract her by asking about the winged horse she’d received for her eighteenth birthday. Her personal drama merely amused me until the following spring, when she repeatedly called to unload her latest romantic woes regarding Prince Fidelio of Vetricia, who was so completely wrong for her that I just . . . couldn’t. And then she revealed that she and her winged horse, Snow White, would spend almost the entire summer at Faraway Castle, being trained by Kai the dwarf, her lifelong friend, to prepare for the Faraway Castle Cup.
I listened and joked with her, and I don’t think she suspected a thing. But as soon as we hung up, I cried my eyes out. Homesickness flooded through me. Would I ever talk with him again? And if I did, what could I possibly say?
Arabella
“You must bring Beatrice to Faraway Castle this summer,” Pukai decreed, pacing a stretch of sunny beach. “I know the Gamekeeper is concerned about rumors of fay magic, but we cannot allow him to ignore the bigger picture. Days and months are ticking past.”
There must have been a typhoon or something on the other side of the world, because Palau Kalah’s palm trees shivered as if sensing a distant wind.
“That attack on Princess Edurne and her fterotó at the race in Vetricia last month confirmed his suspicions,” I pointed out. “If the Gamekeeper hadn’t sent Prince Briar and Kai to the race, the princess and her mount would likely be dead.”
“No other contestant was attacked?” Pukai asked.
“Not one. Several concerned council members took turns keeping watch over Her Highness until she arrived here at the resort last week. The princess hired Kai to give her private fterotó-training lessons, but the Gamekeeper has assigned him double-duty as her bodyguard. Other staff members are also keeping tabs on her. Everyone is on high alert for any hint of fay magic.” I frowned, feeling useless. I occasionally have difficulty distinguishing fay magic from human magic, since my own is a blend of both.
Pukai abruptly asked, “Kai is giving the princess private lessons? Why? Didn’t she win last year’s Faraway Castle Cup on someone else’s horse?”
“Yes.” I could only shrug. “Ours is not to reason why . . .” I misquoted.
The siren queen gave me a blank look.
I flung my arms wide. “Does no one read poetry anymore? Oh, never mind. Kai has adored that girl since they were children. He would give his life to defend her.”
Pukai snapped back at me, “It hardly matters what comes of all that! If Beatrice refuses to meet with the Gamekeeper again, our last hope is gone.”
Inconveniently, she was correct.
“I have a plan,” I declared. More of a last-ditch idea than an actual plan, but it held some merit. “I’ve repeatedly tried and failed to convince Beatrice to come here this summer. She says she needs distance and time. But I fully intend to drag her here at Christmas.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan? We’re doomed.” On that high note, Pukai ran down into the lapping waves, changing into her mermaid form on the way.
I shrugged and returned home to my fairy-godmother cottage. After several years of neglect, it was due for some attention and upgrades. Instead of fretting over Beatrice and possibly approaching disaster, I occupied myself by granting minor artistic, academic, or athletic aptitudes to several newborn princes and princesses, just to keep the fairy-godmother tradition alive. I’ve always found it best to maintain a positive outlook and keep too busy to worry.
Panic and gloom would accomplish exactly nothing—which seemed a waste, since Pukai and I had plenty of both to spare.
Beatrice
All that endless summer of watching over two energetic little girls, I wondered if the Gamekeeper missed me. Did he have anyone to talk to? I mean, like, close friends? Did he think of me at all? With each passing week I felt more distant from him, from everything that really mattered. Pearl and Heloise sensed my sadness and started taking advantage of my distraction. I knew it but couldn’t seem to make myself care.
Eddi was my only real connection with Faraway Castle—which was hardly satisfying. Whenever she could borrow a car and drive far enough from the resort’s magical interference to use her cell phone, she’d call me to vent her frustration with Fidelio, who spent as much time with her archrival, Raquel Cambout, as he did with her. I did my best to listen and not advise, but once, when I was overtired, I slipped up and mentioned Kai as a possible love interest . . . and promptly received a royal earful. No matter. In the end, everything would turn out perfectly for Eddi because she is the beautiful princess.
Jaded? Me?
Not so’s anyone would notice.
I really needed a buck-u-uppo chat with Auntie Bella.
Arabella
I hoped and prayed all that summer for change. And, sure enough, during the Faraway Castle Cup—the last race of the last day of the resort’s summer season—there was a third assassination attempt. Hardly the change I’d had in mind, but I’ve learned better than to tell the Almighty His business.
A few weeks earlier, Princess Eddi and her new fterotó, a handsome white colt, had been attacked a second time and nearly killed by a hidden curse. Once again, Prince Briar handled the emergency but was again unable to discover the curse’s source. He insisted those first two attempts on Her Royal Highness’s life had reeked of fay magic before all evidence self-destructed.
The Gamekeeper, Pukai, Prince Briar, Rosa, and I had convened after that second attack, agreed that a third attempt on the princess was likely, and eventually agreed on tactics. We first went into stealth defense mode, putting out a decoy public service announcement to guests before we warned the entire castle staff, including the Summer Staffers (magic-gifted teenagers who worked for minimal pay while gaining magical training and experience). Next, we assigned every one of them a detection or defense role according to their magical gifts. The brownies voluntarily used their unique and surprisingly potent magic to defend whatever buildings they inhabited. Weeks of being perpetually on high alert while appearing and behaving normally was a grueling trial for all, especially the younger staff members, but they proved their quality, and it was sterling.
The Gamekeeper believed Her Highness’s attacker must be closely connected with the flying-horse community. But, as Pukai bluntly pointed out, only two individuals among the competitors and their entourages possessed magic ability, and they were both hembez, the lowest level of magical ability.
In the days leading up to the big race, no one, not even the brownies, detected fay magic on resort grounds. However, on the first day of the race weekend, staff members detected non-fay enchantment-bearing objects in and around several of the competitors’ pavilions. Prince Briar confiscated and nullified them all.
But neither he nor the Gamekeeper could have anticipated that one of the contestants, a young gentlewoman with no magical power whatsoever, would toss a simple explosive device at Princess Eddi in the middle of the race. Only after that first attack failed did Miss Raquel Cambout draw a hand mirror out of thin air while flying at top speed. No one knows exactly what foul play she intended because a third contestant deliberately flew his mount into Miss Cambout’s and knocked the mirror from her grasp. Prince Briar demonstrated his worth by quickly capturing and concealing the dangerous fay artifact known as the Mirror of Alviss.
Now Faraway Castle Resort was closed until the Christmas season, when winter camps and retreats began. During the quiet months, its caretaker dwarves, a few full-time human staff members, and hundreds of brownies worked together at refurbishing and cleaning the castle from its deepest basement to the highest tower. To most of the workers, everything seemed normal.
But in late autumn, Pukai hosted a secret meeting of magical minds in her island cave for a discussion regarding the powers and limits of the fabled artifact known as the Mirror of Alviss. I attended the gathering because the Gamekeeper requested my presence, but deep inside, I sensed the inevitably approaching crisis and felt the weight of personal responsibility.
Nearly a century had passed since our Great Mistake. Would the entire world be forced to pay for our thoughtless errors?
“Whoever holds the Mirror can slip it into another dimension for safekeeping,” the Gamekeeper explained, his deep voice clear and strong. “While in the fay dimension it is undetectable from this world to everyone except its most current wielder, who may reclaim it for use at will.”
“If its owner were killed while the Mirror was in the other dimension, would it remain lost forever?” Briar asked.
“Unfortunately, the most recent wielder’s next-of-kin would inherit the ability to reclaim and wield the mirror. However, if the Mirror is somehow stolen from the wielder, it will shift its loyalty to the next person who claims it. Whoever or whatever created the magical artifacts and smuggled them into our world intended them to remain here, wreaking havoc forever.”
A shiver ran down my spine, but the Gamekeeper wasn’t finished. “Miss Raquel Cambout has confessed to the World Magic Council that her grandmother, a hembez, bequeathed the Mirror of Alviss to her for use against her rival, Princess Eddi of Bilbao. The artifact appears to have been passed down through generations of Miss Cambout’s female ancestors for at least three centuries.”
“You mention ‘artifacts,’ as in plural?” Briar echoed, exchanging glances with Rosa. “How many more are there?”
Pukai spoke up. “We don’t know for certain how many there are or were, but I recently discovered three historical records of fay artifacts—a ring, a stirrup, and a lantern—each of them destroyed. How they all came into this world is a mystery, but we must assume there was once a rift between our reality and that of the fay.”
The Gamekeeper nodded, his outline even darker than the cave’s shadows. “The council has ordered the Mirror to be locked in the Deep Vault until the members unanimously vote for its destruction.”
“Unanimous vote? Like that will ever happen in the current Council,” I muttered.
“Can the Mirror be destroyed?” Briar asked, his expression intent.
The Gamekeeper turned to him. “There may be a way, if all of us coordinate our powers.”
After a good deal more of such useless speculation, Pukai finally declared: “The Polyannas Trench lies within my domain, so I shall place the artifact in the vault myself.”