Free Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) by Missy Sheldrake Page B

breeze. I think of it purposefully, and I feel the crunchy leaves beneath my feet fade away to be replaced with soft, spongy moss.
    “Did you see that?” Rian asks from beside me.
    “What?” I look around the sparkling scene hopefully, but my heart sinks. Flitt isn’t here.
    “Not here. In the Half-Realm,” Rian says. “Never mind. It was probably nothing.” He closes his eyes and I know that he’s trying to keep himself in control. Kythshire is like a wonderful dream. The air here is saturated with magic. I can feel it surrounding us, thick and tangible, like the scent of a delicious meal luring me, inviting me to enjoy every last bite. For Rian I know it’s more like he’s been starved for a week and then dropped in the middle of a great feast and forced to resist it. I squeeze his hand and he forces a smile.
    “All right?” I ask, and he nods. “Oh, Rian, she’s not here.” I pace, trampling the moss as fear and regret wash over me in waves, followed quickly by anger. I’ll find whoever has the diamond. They’ll pay. If any harm has come to Flitt, heads will roll. I think of my sword and wish for it and feel it at my back. For good measure, I wish for my armor as well and it appears out of nowhere, fitted perfectly as always to my body.
    “Calm down,” Rian murmurs as he flexes his fingers, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself. “Maybe she’s dancing at the Ring?”
    He points to the waterfall that acts as Flitt’s entry to the pristine circle of white mushrooms where the fairies convene to discuss and dance together. We’ve been there a few times, but never without her.
    “I have an idea.” I tighten my grip on his hand and close my eyes.
    I calm myself and focus on Flitt: her seven ponytails, each a color of the rainbow, her skirt of bright ribbons, her ever-changing eyes.
    “Flitt,” I whisper, and my feet leave the ground again.
    “Well it belongs to me and I want it back. And, oof! Hey! Watch where you step, you big oaf!” Flitt’s voice rings out squeaky and annoyed from the ground at our feet.
    “Yeah, I’m talking to you, Stinky!” she shouts up at Rian. “What’s the big idea, blinking around at full size? I thought Mages were supposed to be smart!”
    Suddenly, the ground grows closer and the trees surrounding us stretch impossibly higher, and I realize that Flitt has shrunken us down to her size. I don’t even care. I dive at her and throw my arms around her and sob with relief.
    “Hey, that’s short enough,” Rian squeaks from beside me, where Flitt has shrunken him to half my height.
    “That’s for stepping on my foot,” she sticks her tongue out at him. “Lucky you didn’t step on my everything and squish me, lummox.”
    “It wasn’t my fault.” Rian makes a gesture and shoots up taller. He measures his chin to the top of my head to make sure he’s got it right. “Azi was navigating.”
    “Typical. Always placing blame. You can let go of me now, Azi.” She wriggles her shoulders and squirms out of my embrace. “Be more careful next time. Oh! And I have a petal to pick with you, Azi! What do you mean, losing my tether?”
    “What?” I ask, distracted by our glittering surroundings. We’re standing at the base of a great, twisting tree which has grown in an impossible way. Sections of the bark have separated and grown together again to form rows and rows of tiny doors and windows. Some of them glow with various colored lights while others are dark. Each door is decorated with trinkets and baubles, some natural, some man-made. I spot all sorts of found objects here and there: a thimble, the clip of a belt, a broken hair comb. Rough gems and cut gems sprinkle the ground around us and decorate crevices in the tree as far up as I can see. Dozens of baskets woven from golden wheat hang from a network of tiny ropes on pulleys all along the massive trunk. Odd things poke up over the edges of them: torn bits of parchment, seashells, balls of