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

brightly at me from beside a ball of dust and I retrieve it and drop it back into the pitcher, covering it again with the lace. As I turn to leave I hear it again, a faint and squeaky sneeze. When I look over my shoulder in the direction it came from, I think I see a flutter of light but I blink and shake my head. Certainly it was just the way the sunlight waved through the rustle of my window curtain, reflecting off of the rim of the pitcher.
    My father is sleeping when I check on him, and he’s attended by a healer assigned by Brother Donal. I recognize her as Emme. She has ministered to our guild before in Donal’s absence.
    “Azaeli, child!” she whispers. Her smile is slightly pitying as she sets down her knitting and crosses to hug me. She holds me at arms’ length and looks me over. “My, but you’ve grown!” I feel my cheeks grow warm at her appraising look, and I manage a smile. Behind her, my father is sleeping soundly just as I left him hours ago. She follows my gaze and turns to guide me to the bed. “He’s resting now, exactly what he needs,” she whispers.  I sit on the edge of the bed and stroke his arm gently.
    “How long will he sleep?” I ask, noticing the bottle on his bedside table.
    “Oh, as long as he needs to.” She settles into her chair again. “Another day, most likely.”
    Without warning, Da bolts upright and grabs me by the throat. His eyes are wild and frantic as he pulls me close to him. I try to pry his hands away, to escape, but his grip is too strong. His fingers are closing off my air. His lips curl into a sneer and his eyes bulge feverishly, darting back and forth.
    “Two steps in, I only took two steps!” He growls. “You can’t have her!” I choke and kick away from him as Emme dives for the bed. He screams piteously as she wrestles him away from me, prying his hands from my throat. I fall back to the floor and gasp for breath, my lungs burning, vaguely aware of someone else in the room as I try to recover my senses. Emme calls for the sleeping draught. I look up to see Rian uncorking the bottle. My father gurgles as they force it on him.
    “Leave him alone,” I croak. My neck throbs where he squeezed it. The struggle at the bed subsides and Rian sinks down next to me. He tries to put an arm around me but I move away from him. I don’t understand what just happened. My father attacked me. He has never raised a finger to me in all of my life. He’s one of the kindest, gentlest people I know. Emme finishes settling him in and smoothing the coverlet over him, and then comes to crouch beside me.
    “Oh, child, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “It comes with a blow to the head, sometimes. The fits. I ought to have warned you. It’ll pass in time.” She raises my chin to look at my throat, which I’m sure has already started bruising. I pull away and push myself to my feet.
    “I’m fine,” I lie, smoothing my trousers. I stare at my father, lying so peacefully again. I want to kiss him, to tell him it’s okay, but I’m too afraid it might happen again. Disturbed by own fear, I spin around and leave the room. I need to put space between us, to gather my thoughts and calm myself.
    “Azi...” Rian calls after me.
    My feet carry me unthinking through the house, out the door and into the familiar city streets. Dazed, I wander all the way to the low cliff wall near the docks, to let the sea air wash over me. All around, the people of Cerion bustle about their every day jobs, pulling in traps of shellfish, checking lists and collecting tariffs. Labor men work at cranking the lifts, hauling barrels on pulleys up and down the cliff side, loading and unloading the tall-masted ships lining the harbor below. I disappear into everyone else’s routine. Nobody recognizes me as Azaeli Hammerfel, the young new squire who won the Princess’s favor in the arena just weeks ago. Here, I’m simply a girl in plainclothes staring off into the vastness of the sparkling blue