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

spread of fresh rolls, cheeses and fruit. The message is already smoothed out on the table beside a map and two dishes containing the remainder of someone else’s meal. Rian picks up the note and reads aloud as I help myself to a warm roll.
    “Excellent pace yesterday, uneventful night. Believe we have found the boundary. Will reach by midday today. All is well.” Rian gives the note to me and takes a handful of berries for himself.  “See? Nothing to worry about. They’ll return the treasure today and ride hard for home. If all goes well, they’ll be back in a week. Maybe less.” He leans across me over the map and points to where it seems they should be now, based on the updates they’ve been sending. Ceras’Lain, where the elves live, is to the southwest of Cerion. Kythshire is rumored to border it in the far west, but its whereabouts are a well-guarded secret. The land is sacred. Legend and children’s stories say it is the home of the fae, but nobody has claimed to see a fairy for centuries aside from the occasional madman or imaginative child. Most everyone believes they were wiped out. I agree with them. If fairies were real, then why would they hide themselves away?
    “And if it doesn’t go well?” I ask as I reread the note, which is smaller than the palm of my hand. The writing on it is tiny, and I wonder how Elliot manages it. I turn it over to see Bryse and Cort’s freshly scrawled initials on the back. That would explain the empty plates. They must have finished their own breakfast and moved on to the sparring square next door already.
    “You worry too much.” Rian sighs and holds his hand out. “It’s going to go well.” I press the note into it. One of our duties when a note comes to the hall is to make sure every member has seen and initialed it, and then deliver it to the palace so they can be informed of the progress of the quest. Rian tucks the paper into the pocket of his robes.
    “I can do it today,” I say as we finish our quick breakfast and I follow him to the sparring square. Through the wall I can hear the faint rhythmic clang of metal on metal and occasional shouts. Rian pauses with his hand on the door.
    “I don’t mind,” he says. Ever since I told him about what happened with Prince Eron, he has insisted on delivering the notes to the palace himself. “I wish you would tell someone what happened,” he says quietly, tipping his head toward the door.
    “Tell them what, the prince breathed on me?” I roll my eyes, trying hard to make incident out to be less than it was.
    “Don’t try to play it down, Azi,” he scowls. “He put his hands on you.” I want to tell him it was nothing, that I’m not bothered by it, but I can’t. Not when I’ve spent countless hours going over every moment in my mind in an effort to figure out exactly what the prince was trying to lead up to. What might have happened if he hadn’t been interrupted by the princesses? What did Sara say when she said he’s been acting strangely? I feel Rian’s eyes on me and I look up into them. Instantly I feel safe.
    “Just think about it, okay?” he says. “They ought to know.” He slides the door open and we step through, and I press my knuckles to my lips to keep from laughing at the scene that greets us.
    Cort stands in the center of the ring, his deep brown skin already shining with sweat. He has attached Bryse’s massive shield to one arm, and it’s so huge he has to rest the edge of it on the dirt floor to keep it upright. In his other hand, he wields Bryse’s enormous sword, which is comically larger than the graceful dual blades he normally favors. He whips his long braids over his shoulder and braces himself behind the shield unsteadily. The tip of the heavy sword lowers ever so slightly as he stands at the ready. Opposite, Bryse charges him. Clenched in Bryse’s giant fists, Cort’s delicate swords could be toothpicks.
    The much larger man’s thick biceps ripple beneath his stony