Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) by Missy Sheldrake

together.
    “Azi, if you’re feeling up to it, I’m sure your help is needed with the preparations for our departure. Luca could use a hand in the stables.” Mya stretches and rises with the grace of a dancer despite her obvious exhaustion. She leans down to her sleeping husband and tickles his cheek. “If no one has anything else, I’m going to try to steal an hour or two of rest before we set out.” There is a collective noise of dismissal from the group as those gathered agree she should rest. Elliot blinks slowly and slides to his feet a bit reluctantly, and the two of them step out of the room together hand in hand. Watching their tenderness reminds me of my own parents and sends an ache through my chest. I swallow hard and push myself up. The others are too involved in their own conversations to acknowledge my leaving.
    On the step between the guild hall and the training square, I hesitate, remembering my last moments in this room, when I gripped my sword and passed out. I take a deep breath and steel myself before I step down onto the packed dirt floor. Nothing happens. I glance over my shoulder and bend to pick up my sword, which has been returned to the rack. Pain shoots through my fingertips as they graze the hilt and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. Furious and confused, I storm off to the stable and lose myself in my work.
    Eventually Luca joins me and we spend the morning repacking the saddlebags and grooming and checking the horses for injuries. Ollie, My mother’s enormous white draft horse, nuzzles me and we lean against each other as I brush his mud-crusted haunch. In the quiet solitude of the stable with my mother’s horse beside me, I succumb to my fear and cry into his soft, warm shoulder.
    Through my tears, I catch a glimmer of multi-colored light outside of the stable. When I snap my head toward it, I’m met with only the dark curve of a tree trunk and rustling leaves washed gray in the light of the dull, foggy dawn. My hand slides over Ollie’s strong leg to my mother’s saddlebags. Unthinking, I open one of them, and my fingers graze a sheet of parchment. I pull it out and crouch in the straw, holding it up to the lamp light of the stable. I blink my tears rapidly away so I can read:
    My Dear Azi,
    It is with a heavy heart that I write this, imagining you alone, reading it. We know the risks of our profession, but each time it seems to get more difficult to say goodbye and leave you behind. This time, especially so. If I should not return, I want you to know how proud I am of the young woman you’ve become. I know in my heart you will one day be a knight and honor the values we have taught you. Always remember the values our family stands for: Integrity, kindness, justice, charity, and loyalty.
    With that in mind, I leave you with a warning. Listen to your heart, my Sweeting. Pay attention to your dreams. If you must venture, never do so alone. Have faith in the Elite, but be wary of others who you’ve grown to trust. Be cautious. That is all I dare say here. I love you always and forever, no matter where I am, my darling girl. Be strong.
    As ever, it is my prayer you never have a reason to find or read this note.
 
    With all of my love,
Mum
    I read it three times, committing it to memory, and then I tuck it back inside the bag. When my mother returns, I’ll keep her believing that her prayer was heard, and I never saw it.
    “All right, Sunshine?” Luca asks, peering around Ollie at me. I nod and wipe my eyes as I push myself to my feet. “Atta girl. Give me a hand with this, here.” He nods at the saddle girth around Mya’s horse and I go over to help him. His long, knobby fingers work to pull the cinch tight, but they slip off. “Argh, these old hands,” he grumbles, and I take the billet strap from him and buckle it snug under the horse’s belly. “That’s it, thank you.” Luca says, patting me on the shoulder. I give him a weak smile and check the rest of the