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

without thinking. I push open the bedroom door cautiously to find Luca dozing in a chair on one side of the room. The boy in the bed against the opposite wall is barely recognizable with his swollen eyes and lip and his face mostly black with bruises. I step closer, cautiously, my heart racing. I think of the years of torment he’s caused me and the threats his guild has made against mine and it makes me want to hurt him more, to show him I’m stronger than he is, and we’ll always win. 
    “He looks a bit better now.” Luca pushes himself up with a groan and comes to stand beside me. “I thought you’d be celebrating!” He hugs me and I pat his arm halfheartedly.
    “We’re done. Mouli says you should come down and eat. I’ll stay with him.” The lie formulates in my mind and escapes my lips and I’m instantly ashamed of it. Still, I want Luca gone so I can be alone with my enemy. 
    “Ah, thank you, dear.” Luca pats my back. “He shouldn’t wake up. If he does, just give him another sip.” He gestures to the bottle at the bedside and I nod. I listen to his footsteps move through the house. I hear the door close.
    “Shouldn’t wake up,” I murmur and step closer. “What if you didn’t?” I imagine taking the pillow and pressing it to his face. I think of what would happen after. His guild would declare war. They’d come after us, full out. It would be the perfect excuse for them to get rid of us once and for all and take what they feel is their rightful place. I lean over him so my knees rest against the edge of the mattress. He’s my age, but much bigger. Lying there in bed, he looks so different than the sneering boy who flung secret insults in the arena.
    Still, I think about what it must be like to be him. It’s always been obvious swordplay doesn’t come as naturally to him. He’s had to work much harder at it than I have. For the first time, I see him not as my rival or my sworn enemy, but as a boy with an unhappy life. A bullied child who’s constantly forced to reach for something which will most likely always be out of his grasp. The whipping post for his family’s twisted frustration, a constant second place. As I begin to feel sorry for him, my mother’s words to my father ring in my ears: She’ll work it out . I huff and drop into the chair beside the bed. Why does she always have to be right?
    “Should’ve killed me,” Dacva murmurs, and I sit up and lean toward him. His blackened eyes are open just a sliver, and he’s watching me. “Self-righteous—“ He coughs and winces as he lifts his head. “Perfect little...Fishbait.” His eyes close. “Couldn’t just let me die, could you?” He reaches up to touch his face and groans. I uncork the bottle on the table hold it out to him.
    “Sip it. You’ll go to sleep,” I say, surprised by how much the bottle is shaking in my hand. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
    “You’re trying to poison me.” He could be glaring, it’s hard to tell. I shrug.
    “So what if I am? You want to die anyway, right?” He stares at me for a long time as though debating with himself. After a while, he grabs the bottle and tips it into his mouth, emptying it. His hand falls to the bed and his eyes close slowly. Trembling, I pick the bottle up and hold it to the light. It’s empty. I wonder if it’ll kill him to have drunk the whole thing. I’m only a little ashamed when I realize a part of me hopes it does.

 

Chapter Three: The Palace
    I wake in the morning to a soft tapping on my bedroom wall. Slowly I open my eyes and shield them from the morning sun which filters through the cracks in the shutters at my window.  The tapping comes again and I push myself out of bed with a yawn of protest. Yesterday’s hours of standing at attention have made my muscles stiff overnight, and I groan as I stretch my arms and legs. The polished wood feels cool and welcome on my sore bare feet as I pad across my bedroom. I gaze sleepily into