“Our parents ordered an extensive search throughout the surrounding region, but no word of a little golden-haired girl could be found. They paid hunting parties to find that griffin. Our mother, Queen Brigitte, hired magicians to locate it or Marielle. All for nothing. It was as if she had vanished from the earth. As years passed with no sign of her, even our parents began to accept that she was forever lost to us and gave her up for dead, but I knew she must be alive and searched for her on my own.
“This summer I decided to visit Faraway Castle for the first time, and almost on the day I arrived I noticed a young woman bearing a strong resemblance to my family—to me, for that matter. I investigated, learned of her magical ability of persuasive speech and her connection with magical creatures, and my suspicion became certainty. Not until I conversed with a personage who professed to know her herbwoman protector did I discover when and how my sister disappeared eleven years ago: My father’s men were unable to locate her because the herbwoman places strong protective boundaries around her home.”
Briar paused to allow this information to sink into his audience’s minds, then pronounced: “The young woman known as Ellie Calmer, Controller of Magical Creatures at Faraway Castle, is my twin sister, Marielle Yvette Toulouse, daughter of Queen Brigitte and her consort, Prince Francis. She is my older sister, and rightfully Crown Princess of Auvers.”
The magical restraint lifted. Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Briar jumped off the platform near Lady Raquel and the Honorable Gillian. “Ladies,” he said coolly in passing, but it was enough.
Lady Raquel’s face was livid, her lips compressed. Gillian moaned, “The lost princess Marielle! We insulted our own Crown Princess! But how could we have known? We thought she was dead! It isn’t fair!”
The conquering prince passed Omar with only a twinkling glance then approached the king and queen of Khenifra. He bowed low before them—Omar could find no fault with Prince Briar’s manner. He was respectful without subservience, and his face was, for once, devoid of humor.
“Your Majesties, I ask you now, as brother to the Crown Princess Marielle, if you will accept her as a worthy bride for your son Prince Omar.”
Omar swallowed hard.
King Aryn tipped his chin down and nearly smiled. “Your Highness, we had already discussed the matter and decided to accept our son’s choice of wife, whatever her station in life. Your sister has already proven herself a worthy consort to any man with intelligence and spirit enough to claim her heart. Someday she will be a wise and just queen.”
Queen Sofia smiled directly at Omar. “Go to her, Omar. She needs you.”
Briar also turned to face Omar, pointed toward the garden door, and stated with evident enjoyment: “She went that way.”
Omar rushed from the ballroom, his heart flying ahead of his feet.
Ellie sat there in darkness with her back against the door, staring into space while questions whirled through her head.
Why would the Gamekeeper tell her not to lose her joy, no matter what? Did he know something she didn’t know? Did the director have authority to fire her, or should she contact him?
“Enough self-pity,” Ellie growled. “One way or another, I’ve got to get out of this dress.”
She pushed herself to her feet, took two steps, tripped over something, and staggered a few paces, certain she was going to ruin her gorgeous gown. But the dress was tougher than it appeared, and she managed to find her balance and a light switch.
She’d tripped over her backpack on the floor just inside the tiny living room. Someone must have . . . The mind-picture of that horrid pooka in her cottage flashed through her thoughts, but before she could creep herself out entirely, a chorus of squeaks distracted her. A little creature dashed from under one chair to another. She recognized that gleaming white fur. “Frosti? How . . .?” Two more sprites poked their heads from beneath the little sofa and whistled—the boys! Then Sparki scampered directly to Ellie and disappeared beneath her skirts. “Wait, did you . . .? No, you can’t possibly have carried in my pack. Why are you still here? Is the coach somewhere outside?”
Even as she asked the question, she knew the coach was gone. The Gamekeeper would have to come back for these four. “I need to set up cages for you girls and your friends. Would you fellows like to have names?”
She gathered the impression that names would be welcome, but she was fresh out of ideas. “Maybe I will find a way to ask the children to name you. I hope they’re able to come say goodbye.”
More to the point, would Omar come? Of course he would. But what could he say or do to make a future together possible?
No, best to focus on the current situation. She sat on the edge of a chair in a puddle of frothy skirts, leaned her elbows on her knees, and focused on Frosti and Sparki, who stepped out in the open to inform her. Their little mouths worked and their slender horns bobbed as they earnestly squeaked their news. And as she listened, Ellie caught the drift of their meaning. Really, she must find a way to learn cinder sprite language.
“You want to stay with me?” she responded to a particularly impassioned speech, jumbled though it was, since both sprites talked at once. “And the boys too? But, girls, I’ve been dismissed from my position here and must leave the resort immediately.”
All four chorused in protest, and she completely lost the sense in their response. Hearing something about the Gamekeeper, she said, “This isn’t your fault or the Gamekeeper’s in any way. I chose to take the risk in attending the ball, and up until Geraldo—he’s a hobgoblin—caused a disaster at the buffet tables, everything was wonderful. I danced with Omar, and . . .”
Her voice gave out. She shook her head, lips compressed, trying to regain control. Memories of the evening flitted through her thoughts, including her dance with Briar. Strange, how dancing with him had seemed familiar.
“And he called me . . . Marielle,” she said.
Memories tumbled through her thoughts so quickly that she felt dizzy. “That is my name—Marielle. Briar is the boy I danced with all those years ago. Now I remember his face back then, and I know. He . . . he always found fault with my dancing and picked on me. But if anyone else criticized me, he sprang to my defense.”
Her eyes widened to the shape of saucers. “Briar is my twin brother,” she whispered. “And he knows!” she said aloud. “That rat, he knows! Why didn’t he tell me?”
The sprites scampered away, still chirping to each other, as she awkwardly stood up, trying not to step on her skirts. “Omar!” she whispered. “I must tell him!”
At that moment she heard a knock at the door and Omar’s voice. “Ellie? I know you’re in there. Please open the door. I have important news—good news—to share!” She spun around, nearly fell upon the door in her rush to open it, then jerked it wide open.
He stood there, his expression hopeful, tentative, concerned. Then he held out a sparkling glass slipper. “Might this be yours, my lady?”
She laughed in a nervous burst and snatched it from him with both hands. Unable to hold everything back, she exclaimed in a rush, dancing in place with excitement: “Omar! Everything has changed! I remember! I know who I am! When Briar called me Marielle—did you hear him?—I didn’t even notice at first. I knew it was my name without thinking. When we danced, it felt so natural, as if we had done it a thousand times—which we have! And just now I realized that he’s my brother! My twin brother who tormented the life out of me, but he was my best friend. No wonder I always felt so comfortable with him and never mistook his friendliness for flirting.”
Only then did she notice Omar’s lack of surprise. “Did you know already?”
“Briar just told everyone at the ball that you are his sister, Crown Princess Marielle. He explained how you were carried off by a griffin, and how, after years of desperate searching, your parents believed you were dead. But they, your parents, are coming here soon, perhaps tomorrow!”
Ellie listened with the slipper clutched against her chest, breathing hard. Then, with a gasp, she dropped the shoe, which hit the floor with a loud clunk. Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head. “It’s too much to take in! Omar, what shall I do?”