He blinked in surprise. “You think I’m siren addled? I’m not.” His smile was weak but genuine. “Ellie Calmer, magic-creature wrangler.”
“We must get Tor back, but I can’t fit both of you on this scooter with me.”
She had just decided to take Omar back to the dock and return for Tor, when the quick glub-glub-glub of a ski-boat engine reached her ears. Relief nearly melted her limbs. “Somebody’s here.” She faced front, and Omar rested his head on her shoulder from behind.
The lake monster’s tail touched Ellie’s leg in a clammy caress. It gave the scooter one last push then vanished beneath the surface. “Thank you,” Ellie said quietly.
Moments later, the scooter slid ahead into blinding sunlight. Ellie shaded her eyes with one hand and looked around. Not twenty feet away, a ski boat idled in the water with Madame Genevieve at the wheel.
“Miss Calmer, is that Prince Omar with you?” she called across the water. “Is he enchanted?”
Omar lifted his head and shaded his eyes. “I’m not enchanted,” he called back, “but I don’t feel so well. I think Tor is on the island. He dumped me in the water and wrecked my kayak. He said he wanted to see a friend. One of the sirens, I guess. Please let me get away from here,” he added with feeling, then again lowered his face to Ellie’s shoulder. He touched only her life jacket, but she saw Madame’s lips tighten.
“The fog seems to contain a mild repellant, but aside from a headache, His Highness is fine.” Ellie tried to sound businesslike and efficient.
“Miss Calmer, take Prince Omar to the castle at once and deliver him to the magical psychiatrist for professional evaluation.”
“Yes ma’am. Oh! And I sent for the Gamekeeper last night regarding the unicorn incident. He will be here this evening, in case you need his help with the sirens.”
If anything, Madame’s expression darkened, and she muttered something like “. . . the last person we need . . .”
Ellie gunned the scooter’s engine, and Omar tightened his grasp. Ahead, the lake and Faraway Castle looked completely normal. Behind, the ski boat vanished into the wall of fog. She felt Omar sit up and look back. Then his arms slid around her, and he leaned close.
“Strange,” he said. “I feel better already.”
The scooter slowed slightly. Ellie couldn’t help herself. “Your headache is gone?”
“It is, though I still feel as if I’m in a dream. Ellie, while I floated there, I could think of nothing but you. Everything about you. And then you appeared out of the fog.” His voice was low and intense. “I feel enchanted, but you’re not using your magic. Knowing you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She could not speak or move. The scooter slowed to a crawl then stopped there in the middle of the lake as she turned her face slightly toward him. No dream could equal this moment.
“However, I realized while I was floating in the fog that I know almost nothing about you.” His voice became more practical but no less urgent.
Against her own better judgment, Ellie laid her arms over his, wrapped around her waist. “You know everything that matters.” She suddenly felt guilty, defensive, and frightened. His sweet words couldn’t begin to touch the barriers between them, and she was a fool to let them melt her. But oh, being in his arms felt so good!
“True, I know all the things that matter most, but I’m missing your history. Where do you live when you’re not at Faraway Castle? I want to meet your family.”
“I have no family,” Ellie said. “I was raised by a burva who taught me how to use my magic. I live with Arabella when I’m not working here.” Her voice sounded normal though her emotions were in turmoil.
“Your parents?”
“I think they are dead.” But her voice held a question, because her mind had always held that question. Arabella never would talk about Ellie’s family or history. When asked, she always said that Ellie knew. But she didn’t.
The mood was shattered. Just as well. She revved the engine and drove directly for the dock. Omar shifted slightly away. “Have I offended you?” he called against the wind. “Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive,” she shouted back.
Omar felt Ellie’s withdrawal like a physical sting. A moment before, she had melted back against him and he thought their hearts were one. Now, she was as remote and cool as the mountain peaks surrounding the resort. Why had he brought up her family just then? What a stupid thing to do! He had been thinking of how he might ask her parents for her hand, how he could best introduce her to his parents, how he would go about dropping the bombshell that he was in love with the magical-creature controller of Faraway Castle and intended to make her his bride. But Ellie could not have followed his rambling thoughts.
He squinted at her slender neck through her ponytail, which blew into his face. She was a stranger again, and it was his fault.
A small crowd awaited them at the dock. Omar climbed off the scooter as calmly as if he had not just ruined his own life, then removed his life jacket, sat on a bench, and pulled off his soaked running shoes. He felt people gaping at him.
He looked up, frowning. “I’m not siren-addled,” he said distinctly. “Madame Genevieve is rescuing Tor, Lord Magnussen.” At least, he hoped she was. That woman was seriously unpleasant.
One of the lifeguards was saying to Ellie: “The director took the boat and told us to stay here. Did you find the crazy guy?”
While Ellie explained, Omar looked over his shoulder toward the island still hidden in that weird bank of fog. His obsession with her had driven his old friend from his mind for a time there. Now he remembered the agonized intensity of Tor’s voice and expression. Would he, Omar, smash a kayak if someone tried to keep him away from Ellie?
“Your Highness, Prince Omar,” a strange voice said, “I am John W. Smith, the resident psychiatrist. Madame the director requested me to interview you upon your return. If you will come to my office adjoining the lobby as soon as you are suitably clothed, I shall be much obliged.”
Omar turned to see a man dressed in white, as if he had been called out during a tennis match, beckon with one hand. He looked back at Ellie, but she was surrounded by other staff members, answering questions as if nothing unusual had happened.
Feeling sick at heart and light in the head, he nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”
When he stood up, his wet clothes clung to him like a memory of that fog, and as he walked away he heard Raquel’s laugh, followed by, “Don’t be ridiculous. Cinder Ellie is a nobody, an orphan. She traps pests for a living. No prince could be serious about her.”
The meeting with Dr. Smith lasted well over an hour and seemed pointless. Aside from a lingering headache, Omar felt fine and answered every question easily. At last the doctor leaned back in his chair. “Thank you for your time. You may go, Your Highness,” he said, scribbling something in his notebook.
“Your diagnosis?” Omar inquired as he rose from the uncomfortable chair.
“Perfectly normal. I see no need to administer an antidote to siren enthrallment. Which is, in truth, remarkable. Everything connected with your siren-enthralled friend defies reason. He proved resistant to the antidote, an unprecedented occurrence. I intend to study files on the history of that island and past events connected with it, if Madame will allow me the key.”
“I would be interested to hear what you discover,” Omar said with minimal genuine interest. He left the office intending to return to the lakeshore in search of Ellie, but just as he stepped outside, his younger siblings approached the portico, obviously coming from the lake. “There he is!” The children shouted with delight and charged him like an army, brandishing water toys like weapons.
Rafiq reached him first. “Omar, did the sirens steal your brain?” he asked with disturbing hopefulness.