Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) Read Free Page A

“Squire Azi! You can keep it. Mother said!”
    “Thank you, Your Highness.” I tuck the ring into my surcoat. “And thank you for helping me win. Without your favor, I’d have to wait another year for my chance.”
    “I know.” She bobs her head, watching the players on the field.
    “You’d better go back up now, before one of us gets into trouble,” I say, feeling a little awkward with her sitting there. Royal pup , I think, and push the words away. I won’t ever have to hear them again now that I’m a squire.
    “Father said I could sit with you,” she bounces up and down beside me as the crowd cheers at the games that have failed to capture my attention. “And tomorrow, you can come to the palace and show me how to play at swords.” I glance up at the throne and His Royal Majesty gives me a friendly wave. I smile and bow my head respectfully.
    Normally I would welcome an invitation to the palace, but the timing is troublesome. Tomorrow, the guild will be readying to set off on the King’s Quest, which is traditionally declared on sunset the day after the festival. My duties to run messages, and inventory supplies and provisions for the trip, and to polish weapons and armor are too important to put off.
    The bench slowly fills with new squires and their proud knights, and we are presented with the ribbons and medals of our new station. I wish I could be present in the moment, but my thoughts are already on tomorrow’s obligations. As I bid farewell to little Margary, I wonder how I’ll manage it all.

 

Chapter Two: His Majesty’s Elite
    I’m half-starved and exhausted as Mum and I make our way slowly through the throngs leaving the arena. It takes us three times longer than usual to weave through the main streets, and eventually we break away to the lesser-traveled route which leads to our guild hall. The white stone spires of the palace gleam coral-pink us above the rooftops to the east, washed in the light of the setting sun. Mum and I avoid the road along the gardens that separate our street from the palace, knowing the crowds will be thick with sightseers along the park promenade, eager to catch a glimpse of the royal family returning from the games.
    Though our hall is only a fraction of the size of the palace, it takes up a modest block of the city on the other side of the forest park. The compound is made up of a row of three two-story houses at the façade, and then another row beside it to form an L-shape. Ours is the first house we reach coming from the west, and the closest to the market square.
    As soon as we step through our front door, all of the tension of the crowds and the games falls away. Our home is the perfect size for us, with two armchairs and a small couch surrounding the hearth, and a writing table against the front window. A cozy dining nook in the kitchen at the back of the main floor serves us well for breakfast and lunch. We usually take our supper in the meeting hall. Over the wooden counter, a window overlooks the back courtyard and my father’s forge.
    “It wasn’t a bad hit,” I say over my shoulder as we make our way upstairs. Here, in the safety of our house, the fight with Dacva seems trivial. “I barely felt it. I’ve had worse in training.” Usually by his hand, I think to myself as we reach the small dressing room which connects our bedrooms. “I’m used to it, Mum.” She strokes a sticky strand of hair from my forehead and hugs me tightly.
    “I know,” she says, sighing. “It still doesn’t make it easy for a mother to see her child bleed.” She steps back and brushes my shoulder with her hand as if to clean the bloodstain away. “It was well-fought, though, and Bryse is sure to be impressed by the amount of blood.” She rolls her eyes and musses my hair with her fingers. “Perhaps you should wear that to dinner.” We laugh and chat together as we help each other out of our armor, wash up, and change into comfortable, clean clothes. Mum