Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) by Missy Sheldrake

belt pouch and pulls out the tip of a quill. She keeps pulling and pulling and the object keeps coming, impossibly growing out of the tiny pouch. It’s a beautiful sleek bluehawk’s feather: royal blue edged with aqua, and with creamy spots speckling it from top to bottom. It isn’t the sort normally used for writing. It’s too fine and rare. She smoothes out the vane and hands it to me. “Fitting for a Wind fairy, don’t you think?”
    “Definitely. It’s beautiful…” I turn it in my fingers and feel its silky fronds between them. “Rian will be honored, Flitt. I’m sure of it.”
    “Eh, we’ll see. Stinky hasn’t really shown me a lot of patience,” she yawns. I consider reminding her that he’s probably impatient because of the way she constantly torments him, but I decide against it. This is a huge step for relations between our people. One that Flitt has apparently fought hard for, based on her relationship with me. I can’t help but feel a little pride at that. All this time she’s been away, she’s been fighting for us to be closer. I smile.
    “Your question,” she says. I think for a while.
    “Something big is coming, you said. The threat. What do you know about it?” I ask as I tuck the feather reverently into my vest.
    “It’s complicated. It has to do with the…” she peeks out of the pitcher and looks around cautiously. “You know. The things where the stuff comes from.” I know what she means. The Wellsprings. I thought the only one was in Kythshire, but we learned that there was another in Sunteri that had been drained by its surrounding Sorcerers. Tib and Mevyn had something to do with restoring it. I thought I had been there to see it, but my memories when I try to recall it are too foggy. Perhaps because it was around the same time Rian proposed to me. I get too distracted by memories of that wonderful time when I try too hard to remember.
    I nod to Flitt. “Go on.”
    “Well, ours has been giving portents for a while. Since before you and I met. Warnings of dark magic all around. They’re linked, you see. All of them. They know what’s going on with each other, everywhere. And the threat is just that. Bad people trying to reach the link. Trying to learn what’s known. Oh, it’s too difficult to explain here where I have to be so secret. Give the feather to Rian and then come see us in Kythshire, okay? I have to go. I’ll try to come tomorrow again if there’s not as much dancing.”
    “Wait, Flitt—” I cry and snatch up the pitcher but I’m too late. She disappears, leaving me staring into the bundle of silks in confusion and disbelief.
    It’s a lot of information all at once, and it’s just like her to leave me so abruptly to try and sort it out without her help. I set the pitcher down and gaze off toward the Academy spires, pristine white against the distant blue sky. Most of Cerion’s Mages are trustworthy. It’s rare to see the Mark on any of them. Uncle makes sure of that, as do the King’s highest Mage advisers.
    We’ve shown our respect for Kythshire’s Wellspring for generations now. But could it go on this way if the fairies revealed themselves, or would it go awry? I myself have felt the power of magic before. When I attempt to use Mentalism, it’s intoxicating. I avoid it at all costs because of that. I don’t like the out-of-control feelings it gives me. Would the pairings help curb that desire, or feed into it? I imagine it would depend on the partner. Still, I’m excited for Rian that Shush would choose him. The two seem like a perfect match for one another.
    I find Saesa waiting in the sparring square as I expected, sharpening my sword with a whetstone.
    “Again?” I laugh. “Thank you, Saesa, but if you keep sharpening it, I fear there will be nothing left.”
    Her reply is a respectful bow after she slides it back into its sheath and hands it to me, hilt-first.
    This session I have Saesa try a similar blade to mine: a great sword, long,