Page 23 of The Beauty and the Griffin

“Uh, yes, three times.”

“This visit won’t be like a camp, but you won’t regret it. Don’t worry about packing. I’ve already planned for everything.”

I opened my mouth, but she forestalled my objection: “You also needn’t worry about getting time off. At my subliminal suggestion, your employers are even now setting out on a three-week family cruise in the Begaian Sea, and your services will not be required.”

I clenched my fists to keep from visibly shaking. My mind whirled. Was that even legal? But who cared? I would seehim! “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

Did I see a flicker of amusement in her faded eyes? “You’re most welcome, child. I believe our holiday adventure will prove both thrilling and illuminating. And, who knows? Perhaps you’ll meet the man of your dreams while we’re there. However, strictly between you and me, this will not be entirely a pleasure excursion.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Now, stop denying reality. Look at me and listen.”

My heart pounded as I obeyed. She didn’t compel me, though I knew she could.

In the back of my mind, I’d always known.

Those penetrating eyes held my gaze as she spoke. “You must hear and accept the truth about me and about yourself. First, you must know that I am not your grandaunt. I am your great-great-grandaunt—my sister was your great-great-grandmother. In our line, your mother’s family line, the magic has dwindled over the past century, leaving only me and you. In truth, your magic is the first to manifest in several generations. It is small yet vital, and it is your responsibility. Do not despise your gift. Acknowledge, claim, and nurture it, Beatrice. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, but she quirked a brow. “You’d better hear with your heart, soul, mind, and strength as well as your ears, or we’re in big trouble.”

I had no idea where she was going with this, but maybe I could find a way to be useful while reconnecting with the Gamekeeper. On that thought, I nodded. “I’ll try.”

With a quirk of her thin lips, Auntie Bella nodded. “Tryhard, girl.” But then her gaze softened. “I believe you will when the time comes.” She sat back, and the familiar glint of humor returned to her eyes. “You’ll be helping out while certain former and current staff members are adjusting their honeymoon plans.”

A working holiday. Nothing new for me. “Okay.”

Wait. What? “Honeymoons? Who got married?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” She paused to check her windup wristwatch, and something startled her. “Oh!Oh, no!Here we go. I’ll have to drop you at the gate.”

There was a whirl of magic, and . . .

I’ll take some credit for freaking out silently when I found myself in Faraway Castle’s parking area at twilight. Snow sifted over me like powdered sugar.

Sudden headlights nearly blinded me as one of the new magically propelled luggage carts approached, and soon I recognized longtime staff members Ben and Jeralee Weatherby in its front seat. When the cart pulled up beside me, they both stared in evident disbelief.

“Well!” Jeralee, who sat at the wheel, recovered first. “Hello, Beatrice. You’re possibly the last person I expected to see tonight, but hey! Merry Christmas, and welcome back to Faraway Castle.” I saw her elbow Ben in the ribs.

“Uh, yes! Welcome, Miss de Callen.” Ben hopped out, shifted several expensive-looking bags from the snow beside me into the cart, helped me into his former seat, then jumped on the back, gripping a protective rail.

How strange this seemed! I’d pretty much watched Ben and Jeralee grow up and fall in love over the course of several summer visits. Now I remembered hearing that they’d married . . . and that Ben was now the resort’s director.

I suddenly felt old.

“Thank you,” I said belatedly. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Director!” My gaze dropped to Jeralee’s generously rounded belly. “And I see there will soon be a little Weatherby running around. Congratulations twice over!”

They both thanked me, and as the cart smoothly turned and headed back toward the castle, I gathered my thoughts. “Pardon my confusion. My grandaunt first informed me I was going on holiday just minutes ago. She said something about . . . honeymoons?”

They exchanged glances. “Think it’s safe to tell yet?” Ben asked his wife.

“They’re all long gone.” Despite her words, Jeralee sounded uncertain.

“I’ll place a silent space around the cart,” Ben said, “and then we can tell you what little we know.”

As soon as Ben gave her the go-ahead, Jeralee blurted, “This morning, Princess Marielle Toulouse of Auvers married Prince Omar Zeidan of Khenifra. You know, Ellie and Omar? The cinder-sprite wrangler and her handsome prince?”

I smiled, nodding. “I remember. I was there the summer they fell in love, and they’ve been all over the tabloids for the last few years.”

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