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

of me and his apology have lifted my spirits. The warm glow of candlelight dancing over his sleeping form comforts me. He knows me. At least I have him. At least we’re together. With a full belly and an exhausting day behind me, it isn’t long before I find myself dozing curled up in the soft cushions of the bedside chair. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping before I’m roused by a single thump in my room. When I open my eyes they’re drawn to the hallway, where an odd cast of light dances on the wall. It melds with the waning lamplight, but its pattern is a dapple of every color of the rainbow, and its flicker is brighter.
    In a sleepy daze, I glance at my father before I push myself up and tiptoe to the door. The light reminds me of the diamond in my pitcher, and its source is somewhere in my bedroom. Curious, I creep through the hall as quietly as I can and peer into my room. The pitcher on my windowsill lays on its side again, though I distinctly remember setting it upright in my haste this morning. Sparkling light glimmers from inside of it, casting colorful prisms across the walls. The pitcher wriggles a little, and the ribbons and lace adorning it flutter. I stand fixed in the doorway and rub the sleep from my eyes as I watch the odd spectacle. I’ve just about convinced myself that some outside source must be shining on the diamond inside to cause such an effect when I hear a tiny whisper.
    “You can stay, just be quiet—“
    “What?” I cross the room in two strides and pick up the little house. The light goes out instantly, leaving me blind in the sudden darkness. When my eyes adjust, I pull out the little bed and the scraps of lace and silk to discover my diamond rolling around beside a small black cricket. I stare at it for a moment. “Did you...” I realize that it’s mad to be addressing a bug and I shake my head. With impeccable timing as always, the hatch slides open and Rian peers in at me. I imagine how I must look, standing at my window, talking to a pitcher. Maybe I am going mad.
    “Catch any fairies yet?” He jests. I set the pitcher on its side. At this point, I’m not sure how to answer him. The whispering was clear as day, but already I’m doubting it. I had been sleeping. It was probably just a lingering dream.
    “None yet.” I force a laugh and tuck the makeshift bed back inside, careful not to crush the cricket. “Did you find anything?”
    “Nothing. But an interesting nothing. Can I come over?” I nod. The wall between us shimmers and shifts, and Rian steps right through it to stand beside me. As the wall solidifies again behind him, he gestures to it dramatically and turns to grin at me.
    “How...?” I gape at him.
    “I found a tome about borders and territory. It was fascinating. The theory is that with permission, one can cross any border, ethereal or physical, no matter how impossible it may seem.” The cricket’s chirp emanates from the pitcher, followed quickly by a “Shh!” I look at Rian, who has heard it too, and is staring at the source of the sound. He shakes his head dismissively and turns back to me. “It’s a fairly simple spell once you get the hang of it.”
    “How does it relate to the curse?” I ask, trying my best not to let my eyes stray to the windowsill where the cricket has started up again.
    “That’s where the interesting nothing comes in,” he says. “I was halfway through a book of known curses when I found a page torn out. The page before that described something similar to what you’re experiencing. I found several tomes with similar pages gone, but I was able to piece a bit of information together nonetheless. One of them mentioned an affliction that was caused by crossing into unwelcome territory, which led me to the book with that spell.” He reaches up and slides his fingertips through his hair sheepishly. “I got a little distracted after that. I really wanted to learn it.”
    “Typical.” The whisper from the