Page 3 of The Beauty and the Griffin

Auntie quirked a brow. “They’ll love cleaning your finger- and nose-prints from that window.” When I whipped my hands behind my back, she chuckled. “No worries, child. You can trust the brownies and dwarves here.” After a pause, she added, “They’re loyal souls.”

“Papa wouldn’t be able to see the brownies, would he?” I said with certainty.

Auntie Bella dropped onto a settee as puckers formed between her sparse brows. “You understand a great deal more than I realized, child. Don’t tell anyone that you can sense magical things.”

Disappointment and a hint of rebellion rippled through me. “Why?”

She considered my question before answering, “Because knowledge is power. Your ability to discern magic is a useful yet static gift—which means you can’tdomuch with it. But if other people are unaware of your ability and you observe carefully, you will learn a great deal more about the magic around you. If you keep your gift secret—”

“Why doesn’t Papa like magic?”

“Hmm. It is rude to interrupt, but I’ll overlook it this time.” Tightening her thin lips, my grandaunt seemed to think hard before she spoke. “You perceive more than mere magic, child. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “You always tell me the truth.”

Emotions flickered across her face, softening its wrinkles. “I will never lie to you, dear child. However, I must sometimes save information for when you need to hear it. Do you trust me still?”

I thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m a child, and you’re really old. I trust you to tell me things when I need to know them.”

In quick succession, Auntie Bella looked as if she might laugh, scrunched her face, then blinked hard a few times before she stated, “Child, you are a blessing from heaven. I hope and pray you’ll enjoy the wonders of Faraway Castle this week and make new friends.”

I hopped up and skipped around the room, chanting, “I want to make lots and lots of friends, and I want to see lots of magical things other people can’t see!” then attempted a somersault over the back of the sofa, which didn’t end well.

Instead of chiding me to behave like a lady, Auntie chuckled. “You may speak to the magical people and creatures when no humans are around. But don’t let anyone else know what you see.”

“It’s our secret!” I scrambled to my feet. “When do we eat?”

After breakfast, Auntie signed me up for programs and activities designed for guests my age. I didn’t know any of the children, which wasn’t much fun, but I could swim and ride, and I enjoyed competitive games, so I soon became part of a little crowd.

Our life at Faraway Castle settled into delightful routines. I always petted and kissed the eagle-headed statue when we passed it, greeted every brownie we met in the halls, and looked for magic everywhere. And then, early one morning, Auntie took me to a tea party in the cottage garden. As the only child among a bunch of old ladies, I did my best to be polite, but boredom set in quickly. With one of her knowing smiles, Auntie said, “You may explore to your heart’s content, child, but do not step outside the garden walls. Do you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As it turned out, that one limit was no problem, since the terraced gardens stepping down the hillside behind the castle were an endless source of delight. I discovered a maze with a fishpond in the middle, and several fountains and topiaries, not to mention all the butterflies and birds. I was almost sure I glimpsed a flower fairy in the lowest garden, but it might have been a shiny insect.

I was looking for more fairies when an old gardener with twinkling eyes paused to warn me: “Now, you’ll want to watch out for cinder sprites, missy.”

“What are cinder sprites?” I asked.

“They’re furry little beasts that burst into flames and die if they become frightened or angry,” he said.

Naturally, after that description, I desperately hoped to see one.

And soon afterward, a furry white creature with spiraled horns and tiny gray feet trotted right across my path and into the formal rose garden. I kept my distance for fear of frightening it into combustion, but it vanished as soon as I followed it through a rose-covered archway in a tall box hedge.

Disappointed, I scouted the area, hoping for another glimpse. With cinder sprites foremost in my mind, I followed the sound of water to a lovely fountain with stone unicorns that appeared to play in its sparkling spray. Heaving a sigh, I gushed, “How beautiful!”

“What are you doing here?”

With a start of surprise, I turned to see a boy in uncomfortable-looking clothes: a white shirt, and a button-up jacket, short pants, and cap of gray wool, along with laced-up leather shoes and dark knee socks. Maybe a guest from some distant country? He looked a few years older than me. “I’m enjoying the gardens,” I informed him politely. “I’m a guest.”

“No, you’re not. I would know if we had guests. How did you get here?”

I realized he wasn’t angry or threatening, just curious. And he had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. Gold, like my father’s watch.

“I came with my grandaunt. We’re staying at Faraway Castle for two weeks, and I’m really enjoying it so far, especially swimming in the lake. I might even learn to water-ski while we’re here.”

His brows rose. “How did you get into this garden?”

---