Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1)

by Missy Sheldrake

  I stare at her in disbelief. It’s a lot to take in. Before I can wrap my mind around it, she asks her question.

  “When you get to the field, you never choose the riches. How come?”

  “They’re not important to me. Why did you say my father entered with ill intent?”

  “He wasn’t invited but he crossed anyway with your mum. When the guardian asked him to leave, he tried to fight.” She looks down into the street, where Rian has just rounded the corner. “Why aren’t riches important? Everyone wants riches.”

  “My family and my duties are most important to me. I don’t need riches, I have everything I want.” My thoughts are already on my next question. I think about my father, and the pieces of conversation we’ve had, sane and insane, since his return. I think back to my mother’s sad goodbye, and his rant in the guild hall when he thought Rian was Gaethon. It’s in our blood, he said. “Flit,” I think long and hard before I ask. “My mother was able to cross over, and she knew when she left here that she may not come back. My father blamed my uncle for this, he said he knew it would happen, and he didn’t try to stop it. Why are my mother and our family so important to Kythshire?”

  She pushes off from the window seat to float up to my eye level, and her eyes fade all the way to white as they gaze into mine. They change from yellow to blue and lavender as she tilts her head from side to side considering me. “Oh,” she sighs with disappointment after a long time pondering, “I can’t tell you yet. You win this time! It was such a good round, too. I think I’ll go try and find some of that fruit.” Before I can protest, she’s gone, leaving me to stare in confusion and disappointment at the empty space she leaves behind. I would have been much happier with an answer rather than a win.

  A blur of blue in the street below catches my attention, and I look down to see Rian waving me down. I hop from the sill, and in the time it takes me to get to my front door, a small crowd has gathered around him. He grins and nods cordially as people flood around him to shake his hand, clap him on the back, and congratulate him. Some of them are girls our age, and I lean against the door frame, watching as they bat their eyes at him and flirt. Rian’s sheepish grin clearly shows his embarrassment, but the girls, who aren’t at all familiar with him, seem encouraged by it. They fall over each other giggling and fawning at him. “Help me,” he mouths in my direction as more girls flock around him, bombarding him with questions that he has no hope of answering in his silence.

  “Rian, you’re needed in the hall,” I call after I enjoy watching him squirm for a little while. Maybe next time he won’t be so flashy with his magic. He nods to me and extricates himself from the enamored crowd. When he reaches the stoop, he takes me in his arms and kisses me deeply and unabashedly right there. The collective groan of disappointment from the crowd of girls sends me chuckling as he pulls me inside of house and shuts the door behind us. “I think they got the message.” I say, watching through the window as the group of rejected girls disappears around the corner.

  He leans heavily against the door and lets out a long sigh of relief, closing his eyes. When he opens them, they hold that familiar glint of mischief. He offers me a low bow with the same flourish he gave the masters in their booth at the end of his trial. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  “Only you could fail at failing so impressively,” I say. “What took you so long getting home?” He gestures at the door with one thumb, indicating the crowd that has now dispersed. “Really? You were so mobbed that it took you all afternoon to walk across the city?” He shrugs and huffs impatiently. We both know that I’ll scold him if he tries to talk after he’s been ordered to silence, but it’s still frustrating trying to have a conversation. “I was worried that you were being punished, or at least getting an earful.” He nods. That’s when I notice that the Mark has crawled up past his jaw and around his ear, and disappeared into his hairline. I reach up and trace it with my fingertips. “Oh Rian, you went too far.” He bobs his head from side to side and rolls his eyes as he nods. I imagine what he’d be saying if he could, his tone thick with annoyance. I know, I know.

  Mouli is just finishing setting out the flatware as we reach the hall together, and she looks up with a grin from the feast she’s spread out.

  “Well done, well done!” She rushes to Rian, hugging him, “and congratulations!” She lets go of him and then smacks him hard on the arm. “And that’s for overreaching! Oh, if Gaethon had seen you! He’d have had you stripped and you know it!” Rian winces away from her, looking injured. “Well, sit down and eat. I know it’s a little extravagant, but I couldn’t help myself. Oh, and this came for you earlier.” She sets a tiny roll of paper on the table between us as we sit side by side. Rian unrolls it and I read Elliot’s note over his shoulder.

  “Will reach border 2 days from now. Have reason to agree with Azi. Stay put. Behave.” I snort indelicately. “Behave. If he only knew.” I say. Rian’s head bobs once as he offers me the platter of roast before serving himself. Mouli makes sure that we have piled our plates amply and then takes off her apron.

  “Well now, that’s done. I’ll be off,” she says.

  “Aren’t you having supper?” I ask her.

  “Oh, I ate already, Dear. Too much to do. I’ll be back to clean up after.” I nod and take a bite of meat, which is so tender I barely have to chew it. As soon as Mouli leaves, Rian turns to me and takes my face gently in his hands. He gazes into my eyes and I fall into his, watching the soft glow of the fire reflect in flecks of green and gold. This time when he kisses me, it’s just for the two of us. It’s warm and deep and perfect, and time seems to slow while we melt into each other. When we part, he smiles softly at me and strokes my cheek. He doesn’t need to say anything at all.

  We dine hand in hand, and I tell him about everything from the comments in the booth to the questions and answers in Flit’s game. It’s an odd one-sided conversation, but he manages to take his own part without a word. He’s mostly interested in Eron’s interactions with Viala, and pushes me to remember more and more details as our plates are slowly emptied.

  After we’re both completely stuffed, we clear everything to the kitchen where we find Flit splayed in a half-empty bowl of berries. Her hands rest on her bulging belly which pokes out between her corset and the belt of her skirt, and her lips are stained purple with juice. She smiles lazily up at us as we come in bearing our trays.

  “Found the berries!” she says, patting her stomach.

  “Looks like you ate twice your weight in them, too,” I say. She giggles and then looks over at Rian, who is stacking the dirty plates at the basin. He pauses and frowns and turns to Flit. She grins widely and tilts her head to the side. He takes a step toward her, looking alarmed, and then his eyes flick to me. “What’s going on?” I say. He points at Flit, and then taps his own lips, and then his temple. She’s talking to him in his mind, like she does with me sometimes. I can’t help but feel a little jealous. “What did you say?” I ask Flit.

  “I said his coils are reaching.” She strokes a finger from her own chin up around her ear, leaving a trail of purple juice in the green section of her hair. “He’s got to do something about it.” Rian gestures one palm up and shrugs. “You know, something pure. Something kindhearted. Make them go away.” I think about my own Mark on my chest, and realize that it has indeed faded some since it appeared. I can’t really think of anything I’ve done that has been outstandingly kindhearted, though, since then. Flit scoots out of the bowl of berries and lands lightly on the counter. She walks across and puts her hands on her hips to survey the platter holding the remains of our roast. Her nose wrinkles up and she screws her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Disgusting.” Before I can object, she’s gone.

  We go back into the hall, where Rian settles at a desk and starts writing. His quill moves frantically across the paper while I drowse in a chair near the fire. Eventually, Mouli comes and drags me away. I let her fuss over me for another dress fitting, listening to
her go on and on about how much there is left to do before the ball tomorrow afternoon. When I finally fall into bed that night, I drift easily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  I’m woken midmorning by Mouli, who ushers me off to the bath. I relinquish myself to her scrubbing and trimming and buffing and fussing through the morning hours and into the early afternoon, when I’m finally allowed a bite to eat in between primping and dressing. I convince her to let me take it in the guild hall, hoping to catch Rian, but unfortunately I find it empty. He’s left me with a long letter in his place, the cover of which explicitly declares it’s for my eyes only. I unfold it and read while I chew a bite of apple.

  “Azi, we have to be careful tonight. I think I know where to look, but it should probably be only one of us, and you’re the least likely to look suspicious wandering around outside of the ballroom. Margary might be able to show you where he keeps his books. I think that would be the most likely place to find the missing pages and more information to help break the curse. I’ve found more that confirms our suspicions, but I won’t say it here. It’d be a good idea for you to pack for a trip, just in case. I’m going to the Academy, I’ll be back in time to get ready for the ball. XO, R”

  I read it twice more, and then drop it into the fire just as Mouli comes to get me, and the whirlwind starts up again. She spends what feels like hours wrapping locks of my hair around a hot iron and I spend just as long blowing the bouncing golden curls off my tickled face while she works. It takes her and two tailor’s apprentices another hour to get me into my dress and looking perfect. By the time I’m ready to leave, the sun has sunk low in the sky, and I’m completely exhausted.

  “How do women do this every day?” I groan, trying hard not to scratch at the pins in my hair as I slip my feet into the satin shoes offered to me by one of the girls. The heels make my ankles wobble, and they click noisily on the worn wood floor as I take a few hesitant steps to the mirror. I don’t recognize the young woman looking back at me through the glass with Mouli beaming over her shoulder. The neckline of blue satin trimmed with gold lace is just low enough to show my pale shoulders and collarbone, but high enough that it covers the remnants of the faded Mage Mark over my heart.

  The full skirt cascades to the floor and shimmers beautifully in the low light of my bedroom. When I turn, the wide slits between the pleats show flashes of the glittering gold underskirt. The sleeves puff out at the shoulders in the latest style, and then hug my arms until the light silk drips down to the floor. When I move my arms, the fabric trails along behind them like a dancer’s scarf. Looking at myself this way feels odd, like I’m a stranger in my own skin.

  “Oh, if your mother could see you,” Mouli bawls, and when I go to hug her, she brushes me away. “No, no, I’m a mess, I’ll get you all smudged and rumpled.”

  “Mouli...” I hug her tightly anyway. “Thank you.” There’s a knock at the door and Mouli claps her hands excitedly.

  “That’ll be Rian!”

  “Why’s he knocking?” I frown, “He knows he can just come in.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Mouli shakes her head in exasperation and rushes down the stairs to greet him. While she’s down there, I steal into my father’s room and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “It feels wrong, Da,” I whisper as I adjust the corset that digs into my ribs, “to go flitting off to the palace dressed like this, leaving you here, everyone is out there somewhere,” I sigh. “But I really hope that I’ll find some answers for us. If I find a way to break the curse, then we can go together and bring her home. I promise Rian and I will figure this out. In the meantime...” I let myself trail off. It’s so difficult looking at him lying here so still and silent. I know he’s not aware of me, but it makes me feel better to say the things out loud that have been weighing on me all day. My curls brush his face as I press my lips to his cheek. “I love you.”

  “Azi, dear!” Mouli calls from downstairs.

  “I’ll be right there!” I rush back to my room, suddenly remembering Flit’s diamond. She never really said whether she wanted me to bring it, but I’m sure she’ll want to be able to find me at the palace tonight. As I search the little trinket box where I had stowed it after the trial, I realize I haven’t packed a thing like Rian instructed me to. There simply wasn’t time. I start to panic as the stress of the upcoming evening and what might lie beyond blends with the fact that I can’t find the diamond anywhere. Mouli calls me again from below.

  “Coming!” Panicked now, I spill the contents of the little box onto my dresser and sift through the little baubles and mementos I’ve collected over the year.

  “Looking for this?” Flit appears on my shoulder. The diamond dangles from her hand by a woven bracelet of frayed, stained, rainbow colored ribbon. “Like it? I did it today.”

  “It’s lovely,” I whisper as she darts down to tie it around my wrist. Its craftsmanship is childlike, but something about the contrast of the perfect diamond woven tightly into a messy nest of discarded ribbon makes me smile. When I lower my arm again, the long draping sleeve of my gown covers it. I shake my wrist, testing it, “Is it safe to bring it to the palace? Will it fall out?”

  “Nope!” She answers, and she pops out of view before I can discern which of the two questions she was answering. Mouli appears in my doorway, looking quite annoyed.

  “Azi!” she yelps and takes my hand, “You’ll be late!”

  “I’m coming, too.” Flit whispers into my head as I descend the stairs, careful not to step on my delicate skirts or fall down in these wretched heeled shoes that crunch my toes together uncomfortably. I’m concentrating so hard on those efforts that I don’t notice Rian until I reach the bottom of the stairs and look up to see his eyes on me. He stares with a mix of awe and something else it takes me a moment to recognize, because I seldom see it in him: nerves. I grin and reach a hand out to him and he leans away dramatically and gestures from my head to my toes and shakes his head. He starts to say something and I start to stop him, but I don’t need to as he stands there, his mouth hanging open.

  “Wow, is stinky actually speechless?” Flit giggles. I ignore her. I am, too, as I take him in. He’s set aside his robes tonight in favor of a calf-length, midnight blue jacket cinched with gold buttons at his waist over a crisp white shirt. The Mage Mark that had curled up around his ear just yesterday has already faded so much that it barely peeks up over the edge of his collar. His black slippers are polished to a mirror-like shine, their gold buckles bright in the waning sunlight. Together, we’re perfectly coordinated. He offers me his arm and we say our farewells to Mouli, leaving her to bawl into Luca’s shoulder about how grown up we both look.

  The road to the palace is decorated with curls of thousands of purple and gold streamers that sway gently in the breeze. A crowd lines the streets near the gates to watch as the attendees of the ball arrive. Most come in carriages drawn by horses or footmen, but we live close enough that we didn’t see the need. I regret that decision now, in these awful shoes, Thank goodness for Rian, whose strong arm I cling to in a concerted effort not to catch my heel in the cobbles and fall.

  As we turn the bend and the palace rises up before us, we both gasp. Elegant lanterns line the walkway, floating like miniature moons, casting a soft light over the arriving guests. They remind me of the dazzle spell that Rian used during his exam the way they flicker colorfully. As we pass beneath them and I get a closer look at one, I can tell for certain that they’re held floating and aglow with magic. There are dozens of them, nearly a hundred, scattered across the vast lawns of the grounds as well. I glance up at Rian, whose jaw is tightly clenched as he takes in the scene. It’s hardly a reverential use of magic. Despite the soft and lovely effect of it, it feels ostentatious, edging on disrespectful. The other guests don’t seem to agree with me as they ooh and ah over its beauty and remark on how it’s unlike anything they’ve ever seen.

  Inside, the receiving hall has been lined with live trees bedecked
with tiny glittering lights. As we near them I realize the lights are actually hundreds of miniature fairy figurines of blown glass, enchanted to glow with colors that change in such a way that they remind me of Flit’s eyes. We file in behind the crowd of guests and make our way down the line, greeting the row of honored guests assembled to receive us, finally coming to the royal family just before the entrance to the ballroom. We meet Margary first and she tugs my sleeve excitedly as I curtsey down to her level.

  “I have something to show you after,” she whispers, “once the music starts.” Her eyes twinkle as she grins at me.

  “It must be something very important,” I say, “if it means you want to miss the dancing.”

  “Oh, it is.” The tiara pinned to her hair sparkles brilliantly as she bobs her head.

  “We’ll find each other, then?” I whisper as I rise from my curtsey and she nods again fervently before turning to the next guests in line.

  “Squire Hammerfel!” Princess Amei takes my hand in her gloved one and squeezes it, obviously relieved to see a familiar face among the throngs. When Eron offers us a polite but cold acknowledgement, I’m glad he’s so dismissive. We move quickly from him to Sarabel, the guest of honor. I dip into a formal curtsey and rise again and the princess beams at me, her eyes sparkling.

  “Oh Azi, isn’t it amazing?” She gestures to the decorations. “Eron and Margary dreamt it up and they had the Mages working all day on it.” She turns to Rian. “I hope you’re not still upset about it, Rian, now that you’ve seen it.” She rests a hand on his arm. “After all, it’s just a bit of display, and it isn’t hurting anything, right?” I look at Rian, who offers a cordial nod to the princess and a genuine enough reassuring smile. “You’re such a dear. I’ll save you a dance, then. See you inside,” she says to the two of us. Then she turns to the next in line, leaving us to curtsey and bow to King Tirnon and the queen.

  “Good of you to come, my friends,” he says to us sincerely. “How fairs your father, Squire Azaeli?”