11. Chapter 11
11
BEATRICE
Restless, worried, and hungry for information, I donned a sparkly golden gown (seriously, Auntie Bella’s fashion sense was impeccable), freshened my makeup, left my hair mostly loose, and hurried downstairs, following my ears to the ballroom where the dancing and celebrations continued as if all were normal.
As I entered through a side door, some tiny gray human-like creatures scuttled under the dessert tables—hobgoblins, of course. Brownies dashed about, removing empty plates, refilling platters of sweets and crudités, and sweeping up crumbs. I recognized faces among the guests, none of them actual acquaintances. Aside from the magical beings, the party looked unremarkable, yet I sensed a strained undertone.
Where was the Gamekeeper?
“Beatrice!”
Turning, I saw a beautiful woman with silky black hair that flowed past her waist and braced myself just in time to meet her enthusiastic hug without disaster.
“Kammy!” I exclaimed in genuine delight. “Jeralee told me you were here.”
“Yes! And Tor is over there, speaking with one of his scientist friends”—she hardly needed to point out her husband, who stood half a head taller than most of the crowd—“but our little son is already in bed. I can hardly wait for you to meet him! Tor’s sister Vigga is babysitting for us. Did you just arrive?”
“Maybe an hour ago. My grandaunt was called away, but she should join me soon. The last time she brought me here as a guest, I was seven years old.”
Kammy’s dark eyes sparkled when she smiled. “I might even have seen you then; I enjoyed spying on the human children, especially since it was strictly forbidden.” She was petite, like Eddi, and had a similar disregard for rules. Funny, at one time I’d felt like a gawky giantess around my dainty friends, but my height didn’t really bother me anymore. Possibly because the Gamekeeper towered over me . . .
Kammy and I picked up some refreshments, sat at a tiny table in a corner, and caught up on life, chatting about Kammy’s little son, Eddi’s happy romance with Kai, and my work. Finally, I lowered my voice to ask, “Do you know what has happened to the Gamekeeper?”
Kammy’s expression instantly clouded. She glanced around, then leaned toward me to say, “No one has mentioned anything about him. I’m also concerned about my mother, who should have been here for the weddings. I would ask Prince Briar to check on her, but he already left on his honeymoon.”
I nodded, mirroring her concern. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect news from him anytime soon.”
“Tor and I plan to head home tomorrow,” Kammy said, “but first we’ll check in at Palau Kalah. My sisters and our families often gather on the island over the holidays. If our mother doesn’t show up, I guarantee we will find out why not.”
Kammy was a sweet little thing, but I suspected she and her sisters would be terrifying as enemies. Her mention of the tropical island roused my curiosity. “Could the Gamekeeper be at Palau Kalah?”
She wrinkled her brow in evident concern. “It’s possible, I suppose. He and my mother are old friends. And the island conceals anyone who enters the council cave.”
Even so, I knew in my gut that he wasn’t anywhere nearby. His power had never felt so ephemeral before.
When Kammy excused herself to go check on her son, I filled a plate with hors d’oeuvres, fruit slices, and tiny cakes, mostly to occupy my hands. I was starving, but my stomach felt too tense to handle rich foods.
“Beatrice?”
I turned, barely restraining a groan when I recognized the beautiful golden-haired Lady Gillian, who would be a charter member of Faraway Castle’s Mean Girls Society if such a thing existed.
She gave me a tentative smile. “I’m pleased to see you. I don’t have many friends here.” She winced slightly. “For good reason, of course. But you were always civil to me. Kinder than I deserved.”
I fumbled for a response. “I’m . . . I, uh, heard that you were married recently. Congratulations.” Eddi had mentioned a change in Gillian, but seeing was believing.
Her expression brightened. No hint of a sneer . . . yet. “Thank you. Truly, he’s the best man I know—far too good for me. I don’t feel like I belong here, celebrating the royal weddings. I was horrid to Princess Marielle when she worked here, and Prince Omar isn’t fond of me either—but Prince Briar invited Manny and me, and his grandmother insisted on coming for the weddings.” She glanced beyond me. “Manny is over there with her and a few of her cronies. Lady Beneventi’s mind flickers in and out at times, but she’s still a force to be reckoned with.”
I vaguely recognized the old woman in the wheelchair, and not in an agreeable context. “Yes, I remember her.”
Something of my thoughts must have leaked into my voice; I saw Lady Gillian repress a smile before she spoke in an undertone. “She’s unforgettable for all the wrong reasons, but she’s been very good for me. I mean, I can relate to her.”
The man standing behind the old lady’s chair glanced our way, then gripped its handles and began to turn it toward us. When the old woman squawked in protest, Gillian’s brow crinkled. “The poor little thing’s overtired.” She turned back just in time to glimpse my incredulous expression, and regret filled her eyes. “Oh, Beatrice, I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to apologize for all the cruel things I’ve ever said to you.” She spoke in an undertone. “I was horrid, and it took a lot to smack some sense into me.”
I had no time to respond since the wheelchair quickly approached us, and Gillian turned to make introductions. “Lady Beneventi, you might remember Miss Beatrice de Callen. Beatrice, my grandmother-in-law, Lady Beneventi.”
The woman gave me a cool up-and-down survey. “You’re a tall one. Passable looks. Magnificent hair. Pity it’s brown.”
“I’m pleased to see you again, Lady Beneventi,” I outright lied.
Before the old woman could continue voicing the criticisms I read in her eyes, Lady Gillian quickly asked, “May I introduce you to my husband, Raoul Trefontane? I call him Manny.”
I must have stammered some acceptable response while greeting the good-looking business tycoon. “Isn’t Princess Eddi your friend?” he asked. “I remember you from the summer before last.”
Gillian groaned. “The summer of my greatest idiocy. But Manny still loves me, even though I was horrid to him.”
I blame my overtired state for what followed. “Oh, yes, I remember you!” I blurted at Raoul. “You were ‘the Beard!’”
Eddi had called him that because of his bushy black beard.
A startled silence followed. Horrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth just as Gillian snorted and Raoul chuckled. “I’m so sorry!” I groaned. “It just—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He ran one hand over his clean-shaven chin, eyes twinkling. “Sometimes I think I might grow it—”
“You will not!” Gillian gently whapped her husband’s arm, then turned back to me. “Really, he isn’t offended. I called him much worse back then! Someday I might be brave enough to share my whole story with you.” She made a rueful grimace. “But for now, let’s just say I’ve eaten lots of humble pie since that summer.”
Lady Beneventi, who had been muttering to herself, abruptly snarled, “Stop pulling my hair!” and waved her withered hands around her head. “I want to enjoy the party. Manny, get me some of those chocolate petit fours and lots of macarons.”
“Yes, Nonna.” With a good-natured shrug, Raoul headed toward the array of sweets while his grandmother talked to herself, her voice sometimes rising in irritation.
Gillian gave me a concerned frown. “She’s been overwrought all day. I think the trip was too much for her, but she keeps telling us her fairy is terribly upset and wants to go home.”
“Her . . . fairy?” I echoed.
A lock of Lady Beneventi’s wispy hair suddenly fell into her face. While straightening the old lady’s hair amid a slew of ungrateful complaints, Gillian gave me an apologetic little shrug. “I know it sounds crazy, but a tree fairy lives in Lady Beneventi’s hair. The two of them started out as enemies, and the fairy gave us all a ton of trouble for a while there, but she has promised to behave, and they’re quite fond of each other now.”
Keeping a wary eye on the old lady’s hair, I leaned in to ask, “Aren’t fay beings evil?”
“Some are, but flower fairies and tree fairies are native to this dimension. Either that, or they came into our world so long ago that their descendants don’t remember.”
Since Lady Gillian’s evident concern for her obnoxious grandmother-in-law was nearly popping a circuit in my brain, it took me an extra beat to recall her earlier words. “Why does the fairy think she should go home?”
“She, the fairy, I mean, told Lady Beneventi that something bad is happening. Here, at Faraway Castle.” Her brow creased. “Do you think . . .?”
As Raoul returned with a plate of sweets, I noticed the old lady’s hair whipping about as though a high wind had caught it. “Stop that this moment!” Lady Beneventi snapped.
Once again, her hair dropped limply over her face.
“I think you should take her home immediately,” I said firmly.
“Do you?” Gillian’s husband met my gaze, his eyes intent, his voice low.
I lowered my voice to respond: “I don’t know exactly what, but something strange is going on here. The fairy’s right. You should get out of here while you can. Tonight.”
After a shared glance, Raoul and Lady Gillian told me they would set off for home within the hour, excused themselves, and hurried Lady Beneventi out of the ballroom.
For a snarky moment I pondered the possibility that the world might be ending. After all, I’d just received a goodbye hug and sincere thanks from one of the most self-absorbed people I’ve ever met. If Lady Gillian could transform into a kind and thoughtful person, well . . .
Definite food for thought.
It was well past midnight when I gave up trying to fall asleep. I had no idea what might be going on, but the ambient magic I sensed felt almost as chaotic as my thoughts and fears.
Where was Auntie Bella? I would have worried more if I hadn’t sensed her reinforcing spells woven through the Gamekeeper’s protective magic. She was still alive and active and not far away.
Wrapped in a fluffy robe, I plopped down beside the east-facing windows and gazed into darkness. There was no moon, and icy mountains made sharp silhouettes against the stars. Somewhere below lay the rose garden.
Why was the Gamekeeper’s power fading? Where was he? Off somewhere, fighting to stop whatever this trouble in the world might be?
Did he leave the resort to avoid meeting me? What if I never saw him again?
I sensed how worried the brownies and dwarves were. Of all times for Prince Briar and Rosa to leave on their honeymoon! Did no one ever think of the Gamekeeper’s needs?
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Auntie Bella was ordering me to wake up and get dressed. “How can you sleep when all allies of Faraway Castle and the civilized magical world need your help, young lady!”
Arabella
I finally had a plan.
Just before midnight, Falwin, a griffin I’ve known since he hatched, arrived at our secret fortress beneath Faraway Castle with startling news. “Vlad and Mirka have been brooding a gold egg !” he roared, wings thrashing, beak snapping while he paced the floor. “It was a wondrous secret in our community, but we’ve been betrayed. Mirka was captured early this morning, and the mages are chasing Vlad right now. They want the egg!”
“Why? What’s so important about a gold egg?” Someone at a table behind me asked.
Falwin shook his head, making every feather stand on end. At first, I thought he wouldn’t answer at all, but then he snapped his sharp beak. “A golden griffin appears in times of great change.”
The gold egg was some kind of portent, I realized. Time for some serious research in the castle library, such as it was.
Everyone within hearing distance jumped into action. If the Mirror were to gain control over that egg, our world might never recover.
“Is there a nanny?” I asked, plotting our next move.
“Yes, Arabella. I glimpsed it once.” Falwin dipped his feathered head to me. “It’s a human female, not yet full grown. The eggs are near to hatching.”
Griffins have a tradition of snatching a human girl, forcing her to egg-sit for the better part of a year, then rewarding her with a small fortune in gold coins and jewels. Luckily, I knew exactly where Vlad and Mirka nested—practically on the Gamekeeper’s doorstep. I also knew that because foul-tempered Mirka was even more paranoid than the average brooding griffin, or “griffiness,” Vlad always drilled their nannies on escape routes and set snares for egg-nappers.
This situation could lead us into either glorious victory or unimaginable disaster. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.
If any human could win over a golden griffin and comfort a traumatized human girl, it would be my great-great-grandniece, who wielded a magic she didn’t understand and a loving heart that might help rescue the world.