Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (9 page)

“Then I want Tib to stay, and we want cakes and nectar.”

“Your Highness, it isn’t wise—” Finn starts, but Tirie throws him a look.

“Of course, sweet heart.” The woman says, stroking the girl’s hair. “I know it’s hard, everyone leaving, everything changing. But it’s how things are. People grow up and they go away. But we’ll make sure you aren’t lonesome, all right? Your cousins will be here soon. You won’t be alone.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and shift uncomfortably while the princess tries to compose herself. I don’t want to stay here. I have things to do. Important things. I wish I could remember what. I think of Saesa. She was going to be part of it. I wonder what she did after the guards let her go. I wonder if she’s trying to get me out. I wonder if Nessa will let me come back.

Margy calms down after a little while and Tirie leaves to call for the cakes. Finn stays. Watches. I go back to the mushrooms and sit when the princess beckons me.

“It’s not just a doll,” she whispers. “I haven’t lost my mind.” She moves closer. Leans toward me until I can almost smell the salt in her tears. Whispers so quietly that I have to watch her lips to make out what she’s saying. “It’s his tether. It’s gone, and now he is, too.” She searches my eyes and I watch her blankly. I don’t know what to say. “You really don’t know, do you? But I saw you. I saw you both. I thought you knew. I thought you could help.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. If I did, I would tell you.”

I’m glad when she says she wants her cakes in the garden. She calls it an atrium. When we go down, a table is laid out for us. Finn isn’t far away, but it’s much grander here. The princess doesn’t need to whisper so low to be secret. She stops asking me about the arches and instead wants to know where I’ve been staying. I tell her about Nessa and the others, and soon her tears are forgotten. There’s something about her. Something sweet that makes me want to keep her happy. To see her smile. So I keep talking.

The cakes are so sweet that they tickle my tongue, and the nectar is, too. I stuff myself full of both while the princess chatters away at me.

“Saesa is the eldest one, the one with the sword?” She asks. I shake my head.

“Raefe is the eldest. Her brother. Then Lilen.”

“The Mage student, right?” She leans back in her chair and rubs her belly. “Oh, I ate too many…”

“Me too,” I laugh. “Yes, Lilen studies at the Academy.”

“But Saesa’s the one you fancy.” She grins at me. I shrug. “Oh, I can tell,” she says. “You get the same look that Sara gets when she’s talking about the prince.”

“Maybe.”

“I wish I could learn swordplay, like her.” Margy says. “Like Azi.” She sighs and looks out at the snow. “I wish she was here.”

“Saesa?”

“Azi. She’d understand,” she sighs. “Never mind.” She gets up from the table and when Finn clears his throat, I do the same. “I want to go for a walk,” she declares to him. “Outside.”

“But Your Highness, it’s snowing.” Finn waves to someone outside in the hall, and Tirie rushes in.

“Yes, I know,” Margy says. “If Sara can ride in the snow, I can go for a walk. I’m strolling Tib home. To Lady Ganvent’s. It isn’t far. Send a page to announce me.”

“Your Highness, it’s…” Finn trails off as Margy presses her lips together and her nostrils flare out. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one Emmie makes right before she starts to scream. The first time I saw her do it, I was amazed by how effective it was. Finn and Tirie don’t let it get that far. Tirie calls for preparations for the princess, and Finn calls for the guard.

Not long after, we’re strolling together under a canopy carried by four strong lads. Ten guards arrange themselves around us, with Finn at the lead. Tirie and three attendants walk beside the princess, who chats happily with me as we go. Several paces ahead, men work with shovels and brooms to clear snow from our path. I can’t help but be amused by all of the fuss. It isn’t far to Nessa’s at all. Something else lifts my spirits as we leave the palace grounds. The feeling of loneliness that had settled over me fades.

“You’re safe.”

Yes, I’m safe. I grin. I’m safe, and I’m going home. I wasn’t caught for burning the towers after all. I can start my journey. Do that task I was meant to do. Whatever it is. With Saesa. Our adventure.

“Wait! Your Highness!” The procession stops and Margy turns. I follow her gaze back to the palace gate. There, a man in orange robes flails his arms as he slips on the icy cobbles.

“Dumfrey!” Margy giggles as his slip turns to a glide and he stops gracefully beside her.

“Mage.”

Yes, Mage. I scowl.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is Tib. Tib, this is Dumfrey. He’s one of the Mages who works in the palace. Show him a spell, Dumfrey.”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he says gravely. “You know I’m not allowed. Especially not now.” He bows to me. His pointed hat flops over his long nose and he pushes it back again. “Well, maybe one. A good one.” He wriggles his fingers and I shy away. “What’s wrong Tibble-dibble? Don’t like magic?” I shake my head. “Well, this one will keep you safe.” He moves his arms in a wide arc.

“No!”

“No!” I scream. Try to run. The guards catch my arms. The spell shimmers around the canopy. I feel something strange, like a piece of me has been broken away. Terror strikes me straight through the heart. I start to panic. I can’t breathe. Something is gone. Something important. I check my arms, my legs. No, it isn’t that. It’s something else. Someone. Someone I can’t remember. He was here, and now he’s gone.

“No,” I cry, trying to fight free.

“Let him go!” the princess shouts, and they do. I fall to the ground. I feel empty. She crouches beside me. Scoops something into her cloak. I don’t see what it is, but she cradles it gently. Hides it from the rest. Offers me a reassuring nod. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Don’t worry. I have him. He’s safe.”

“It was just a ward, Princess. I swear it,” Dumfrey says. “A protection spell, to keep you all safe outside of the palace.”

“See, Tib?” Margy plasters on a smile. “It was just a ward. It couldn’t hurt you. Dumfrey’s a good Mage. He was just watching out for us.” She offers me a hand up. Keeps the other one hidden under her cloak.

“Go on to the Ganvent Manse, Dumfrey. Let them know we’ll be along,” Finn says.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the Mage mumbles, then hurries off in a blur of orange.

“He didn’t mean anything, Tib.” Margy says as we continue on. “He was just trying to keep us safe. He didn’t know.”

“I don’t like magic,” I pant. Try to catch my breath.

“Lots of people don’t,” Margy says. “But it’s like everything else. Some is good, some is bad. You just have to look out for the bad and stick with the good.”

Tib

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Margary Plethore,” someone announces as the canopy halts in front of Nessa’s Manse. The guards in front of us part and stand in rows up the stairs. Nessa opens the door herself and dips into a low curtsy as the princess climbs the steps. Past her, inside, I see the others all lined up in the entrance hall. Even the cook. All except for Lilen. She’s probably still at lessons. Saesa’s eyes widen when she sees me following Margy. I smile at her, and she shakes her head and grins.

“Thank you for welcoming me, Lady Ganvent,” Margy smiles up at Nessa. “Tib has told me so much about your kindness to the children. I wanted to come and meet everyone for myself.”

“We’re honored, Your Highness,” Nessa says. “All of us.” She gestures down the line.

“Maiseline!” Margy cries, “I’ve missed you!”

“Pleased to see you again, Your Highness.” Maisie sinks into a curtsy and stays low so Margy can see Errie. She’s got a strange look in her eye, Maisie. A hopeful look.

“Oh, look at the sweet baby.” Margy offers the baby her finger, and Errie curls his tiny hand around it. “Handsome little one,” Margy coos.

“Like his father,” Maisie says.

“Will he call her Aunty?” Ruben whispers loudly to Saesa. She claps a hand over his mouth and shushes him. Silence falls over the room. Everyone is holding their breath. Maisie looks white. Finally, Tirie clears her throat. If the princess heard, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she moves down the line.

“You must be Raefe!” Margy declares as Raefe bows to her. “And, let’s see. Saesa, Ruben, Emmie, and Garsi.” She nods to each of them. “Oh, but Lilen isn’t here?” she asks Saesa, who cautiously slides her hand from Ruben’s mouth.

“She’s at the Academy, Your Highness,” Saesa replies. “She’ll be disappointed she missed you.”

“May I take your cloak, Your Highness?” Nessa asks. “Would you care for some tea?”

“No, thank you.” Margy turns to me. “I’d like to see your room, Tib.” She gives me a secret look. Her eyes trail to the lump under her cloak.

“Oh,” I say. I glance at Tirie, who is as disapproving as ever. “It’s there.” I point up the stairs. Dumfrey’s there, just inside my door. He steps out. His orange sleeve flops around as he waves at us.

“Everything’s clear up here,” he says.

“Very well,” Finn grumbles.

“Come, Tib!” Margy runs up the steps and pauses at the top. I turn to Saesa, who grins at me again. “She can come, too, if she wants,” the princess calls over her shoulder and disappears into my room.

“Taken away by the city guard before breakfast, and you come home with a princess after lunch.” Saesa laughs, and most of the others do, too. She throws her arms around me and whispers, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” My insides warm. I hug her back.

“Come on,” she says, and we take the stairs together two at a time.

Inside, Margy has taken off her cloak and piled it on my floor like a nest. She kneels beside it, hands on either side. “Close the door,” she whispers.

I go and peek downstairs first. Tirie is fussing over Maisie’s baby. Two guards are posted inside the front door. Dumfrey is showing Raefe and the others a sleight of hand. I close the door and go back to the girls. Saesa is kneeling beside Margy, peering at the pile of cloak.

“I don’t see anything,” Saesa says.

“You have to be open to it,” Margy whispers. “Tib, come here.”

I kneel between the two of them.

“He’s sick,” Margy says. I peer into the cloak-nest. The creature nestled there is white and bony. Frail. Completely still, like he’s dead. My heart aches. I reach for him. I know him, somehow. “I forgive you for not telling me, Tib. I know we have to protect them, the fairies.”

“Fairies?” Saesa leans closer. Looks harder. Laughs merrily. “Is that what you were doing all morning, Tib? Playing fairies? We were all so worried about you! You should have seen Nessa when I told her about Bren. She’s put him on her blacklist. He won’t be doing much business after turning you in, when she gets through with him. I had to tell her about Feat, too, but she’s okay with it…” Saesa goes on and on, but I don’t hear her. The creature turns its head weakly. Opens its black eyes to look right at me.

I remember. Roots. Trees. Fighting. Running. Climbing. Burning. Swimming. He’s been with me through all of it. I remember the Mage in Nessa’s sitting room. I remember our conversation at the arches. I think of Dumfrey just now under the canopy. How his ward struck us. The voice in my head saying no. The feeling that something had been ripped from me. It was him. Mevyn. Mevyn. He looks so much worse now. Thin, like a ghost. Fading. Almost nonexistent.

“What happened?” I whisper. Saesa stops talking. Watches me.

“Mage. Ward. Draining.”

“Oh, Dumfrey,” Margy whines softly. “He’s so bumbling. He means well, though.” Margy reaches out to the skeletal figure. She almost touches him, but stops herself. “Please, what can we do?”

Mevyn doesn’t answer. His eyes drift closed. I know he’s barely hanging on. I remember the empty pool in Sunteri, near the trees. How he wept. I remember the important thing I had to do. Go to Kythshire. Ask for help in restoring the Wellspring. It’s Mevyn’s quest. I can’t do it without him.

“He needs a Mage,” I say reluctantly. I hate them so much. I hate that there’s nothing I can do myself. “He needs magic.”

“I still don’t see him,” Saesa says. She’s confused. She still doesn’t see Mevyn, but she’s starting to believe us. “I’ll go get that orange Mage. He can help.”

“No,” the princess says as Saesa starts to get up. “Fairies are secret. No one else can know.”

Mevyn moans. Reaches out to the princess. Points to her with one finger. Margy stiffens. Glances at the closed door. Nods slowly.

“All right,” she whispers to Mevyn. “But you have to keep my secret, too. All of you. Nobody can know.”

I glance at Saesa. Remember what she told me once. There aren’t really any secrets, there’s just information with a higher value. I wonder whether she’d sell the princess’s secrets.

“I promise,” she says convincingly. I nod, too.

Margy places her fingertip in Mevyn’s palm. It glows with a soft, pink light that streams from the princess to the weakened fairy. Slowly, Mevyn’s form becomes more solid. The flesh on his bones thickens to muscles. His skin deepens to a healthy bronze color. His hair brightens to yellow. Wings of gold unfurl from his back.

“I see a light,” Saesa gasps. “A golden light. Is that him?”

I can’t answer. I’m mesmerized by Mevyn’s transformation. Margy seems different, too. Her eyes are brighter. She’s happier. Relieved, like a heavy weight has been lifted from her. She giggles beside me as the fairy zooms past her. He darts around the room and then dives quickly behind my pillow as a knock comes and Tirie pokes her head in.

“At the very least,” Tirie says shrilly, “I must insist upon an open door.” All of us nod at her, wide-eyed. When she leaves, Mevyn comes to sit on my knee. I’ve never seen him looking so whole and healthy. His skin glows with winding golden lines. His hair waves on its own. His shining, spiky wings are twice as large as he is. A spear is slung over his shoulder. As I watch, his tattered pants are replaced with armor of leaves and bark that look like they’ve been dipped in gold.

“You’re a warrior,” Margy gasps.

“And you, Princess, are not supposed to have magic, are you?” His voice is stronger now than it has been in my head. Deeper. Commanding. It echoes over us and in my thoughts, too.

“I can’t help it,” Margy whispers. “It just comes to me. It fills me up and weighs me down and makes me cry. I can’t let it go or I’ll start a war. That’s my secret. Nobody can know.”

“You’ll start a war?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. Royalty isn’t allowed magic in Cerion,” the princess says gravely. “It isn’t like Sunteri.”

“Why not?” I ask. When I think about it, it’s a good rule. Sunteri would be a lot different with that rule. More equal. Like here.

“Because of the Sorcerer King. Diovicus?” she asks, a little surprised by my ignorance. I shake my head. Stories and history. A boy in the dye fields has no reason to hear about those things. Margy goes on.

“King Diovicus was the King of Cerion a very long time ago. He didn’t care about our kingdom or its people. He was cruel and selfish. He burned people who disagreed with him. He controlled people to do his will, and he made armies to march on Kythshire. He wanted to destroy all of the fairies there to claim their power for his own. My great-great-great grandfather rallied an army to stop him. The elves helped him. They won, and that began the Plethore Dynasty. He made a pact with the fairies who survived, that there would be peace in Cerion as long as the Plethore line ruled. With two promises: One, we would keep the fairies’ existence a secret and two, the ruling family would swear to never wield magic again.”

Margy’s eyes well with tears and she shakes her head. “I can’t help it, though. It just comes. It comes, and I give it to Twig. He helps me with it. He understands, but now he’s gone. Nobody else knows. Not even Paba. I’ve kept it a secret all this time.”

“Give it to me then,” Mevyn says. “All of it. And then you will be rid of it for now.” He settles in her hand. She closes her eyes and the pink glow returns. Mevyn soaks it all up. Basks in it. Radiates with magic so strong I can feel it myself, in my bones. The golden curls on his skin burst with light. Beside her, Saesa seems to be staring off at the wall over my shoulder. Dazed. I wonder if it’s Mevyn doing it. I don’t like it. When the magic is finally absorbed, Margy slumps against me.

“What about Twig?” she whispers sleepily. “I need him. He’s my friend, and I’m so worried something’s happened to him. Please, can you search for him or his tether?”

“Of course you’re worried,” says Mevyn softly. He drifts up to her face. Places a gentle hand on her cheek. Gazes into her eyes. She smiles peacefully. Drifts to sleep. Mevyn turns to me.

“It’s nearly time,”
his voice echoes in my mind.
“You remember our journey? Our adventure?”

I nod.

“You did well, Tib. Now that I’m restored, I’m certain we can find your sister.”

“My sister?” I whisper. I think back to Nan beneath the tree. Zhilee. “But, she was killed.”

“Zhilee, yes. But your other sister. You wanted to find her, remember?”

I’m confused at first, but then I remember her. Older sister, sitting in the red blooms, her nose buried in a book. Riding off with the Sorcerer who later terrorized us, held us with roots. Rage wells inside of me, and with it, longing. Yes. I want to find her. I want her to see me. The brother she abandoned. I want to see her, the last of my family. The family she destroyed with her greed for power. Sunset. Sunset, and she didn’t come through for us. Sunset, and she let Zhilee die. I hate her. I love her. I’m confused. How can I feel both so strongly?

“I want to find her,” I say. Maybe seeing her will help me understand.

“
Good,
” says Mevyn. “
Then for now, my friend, it is best that you don’t remember. As I always do with your permission, for your protection and my own, I will make you forget.
”

I nod, and my eyes slowly drift closed. When I open them, Margy is standing and stretching. Yawning. Saesa blinks rapidly as she comes out of her own trance.

“I’ll be going now,” Margy says airily. I pick up her cloak. Hand it to her. “I want to be back at the palace in time to dress for dinner. I had a wonderful time.” She tilts her head at me and smiles. “Would you come to visit again? I’ll send an invitation. And you, Saesa. It would be lovely to have new friends to show around.”

“I’d be honored, Your Highness,” Saesa grins.

“Please, just call me Margy.” She smiles and skips out into the hallway, where Tirie is waiting at the top of the stairs.

“It was awfully quiet in there, Your Highness,” Tirie says suspiciously.

“We were playing the whisper game,” Margy says without missing a beat. “I’m sleepy now.”

“The litter,” Tirie calls down the stairs as she fusses with Margy’s cloak.

“No, I’ll walk,” Margy says cheerfully. “It isn’t far.”

At the door, everyone makes their bows and curtseys. The guards file into their lines. Margy waves at us from beneath the canopy. We watch them go until they disappear around a distant corner, and then Nessa pulls me into the sitting room. Asks me what happened. The others lounge on the floor, listening. My memories are foggy, like I have to fight through something more important to get to them. I answer their questions until my head tips to the arm of the sofa and keeping my eyes open is a battle. Nessa sends everyone off. Helps me to my room. Puts me to bed. Tucks the blankets around me. Smoothes my hair. Kisses my forehead. Stays with me until I drift to sleep.

“Wake up. Get dressed.”

It’s dark. Silent. The whole house is sleeping. I pull on my shirt from yesterday, yank my rumpled pants over my boots. Grab my belt with the knife on it that I thought Finn took from me yesterday. I don’t remember getting it back, but here it is. I yawn. Wipe the sleep from my eyes. Slump onto the bed again. Wonder why I woke so early. There’s no light coming in through the shutters. It’s not even morning yet.