The Water and the Wild by Katie Elise Ormsbee Page A

sprites are rich no matter where you go. That’s why there’s that saying, you know: don’t arrive at a Southerly’s with a full stomach; don’t leave without one.”
    At this news, Lottie’s stomach grumbled. She clutched it, embarrassed, but Fife grinned.
    â€œI’ve got a cure for that,” he said, and before Lottie had time to blink, Fife had shoved something in her hands.
    â€œChocolate?” Lottie asked, enraptured.
    Fife, who had taken a bite of the stuff before handing it to Lottie, coughed and swallowed.
    â€œThank you,” said Lottie, biting off a piece of chocolate herself so that her reply sounded more like “Hank wu.”
    â€œGood, isn’t it?” said Fife, finishing off his piece. “That’s ’cause it’s from the North. Though don’t let on that I told you that, or you’d put me in a nasty way with the Southerly Guard.”
    Lottie blinked. She hadn’t understood half of what Fife had said, only that the Southerly Guard was, apparently, bad news.
    â€œC’mon,” Fife said. “Let’s get out of this dirt.”
    Lottie finished off her chocolate and, with Fife’s help, got up—more than up. Fife was floating again, and this time he floated the both of them right through an open window on the first floor of Iris Gate. He plunked Lottie down on a window seat and lighted his feet on a nearby stack of books.
    They were in a library. The room was enormous. Rows and rows of tall bookcases stretched before Lottie, each one chock full of shelf upon shelf of books. It was a sight glorious enough to make her forget for a moment that she was alone there with a strange, floating boy.
    Fife, however, appeared to be busy with something entirely unrelated to Lottie. He began to poke about shelves and race around the corners of the room so quickly that the sight of him became little more than a blur.
    â€œWhat’re you doing?” she called.
    â€œLooking for Ollie, of course,” said Fife. “He and Ada are usually in here for their daily tutorial. I’ve come to thwart their scholastic pursuits!”
    â€œScholastic pursuits” was what was going to get Lottie and Eliot out of Kemble School and into a good university, provided Eliot was well enough to go.
    â€œI don’t think you should sound so pleased with yourself about that,” said Lottie. “Schoolwork is important.”
    â€œOh, don’t tell
me
about the merits of schoolwork,” said Fife. “I want to be a healer myself, just like Mr. Wilfer. He’s promised me that if I study hard and read diligently, he’ll give me an assessment when I’m sixteen. If he thinks I’m good enough, then I’ll get to be his apprentice.”
    Fife stopped his searching and hopped onto the window seat next to Lottie. “Sorry if I scared you up there, by the way. The guest room’s usually empty. I always sneak in through there because if Adelaide catches me coming in from the foyer . . .” Fife grabbed his neck with his hands and made a choking noise. “Now, there’s a sprite that’ll spook you out of your skin.”
    â€œSprite,” repeated Lottie. The word still sounded strange and tinselly in her ears. “Can all sprites do what you do?”
    â€œDo what? This?”
    Fife floated up a few inches from where they were sitting, fluttering his hands with dramatic flourish.
    â€œYes, that.”
    Fife smiled broadly.
    â€œNo sprite can do that,” he said, returning to his seat. “Just folks like me.”
    â€œBut if you’re not a sprite—”
    â€œWho said I wasn’t a sprite?” interrupted Fife, whom Lottie noticed was sticking his tongue out at her again.
    â€œBut you just said—”
    Fife raised his eyebrows.
    â€œOh, never mind,” said Lottie. “I only ask because I’m not sure I even believe it.”
    â€œBelieve