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

fur.
    “Elliot,” I reach my hand out to the fox and it trots up to greet me and nuzzle my hand. “Great! He can give us a ride back if we shrink down.” I remember the journey Elliot brought me on recently, to show me the corruption of Zhaghen and the distress of the fairies in Sunteri. We were able to cross continents in moments with me riding on his back. I crouch to stroke the thick fur at his neck, but when he looks up at me I pull my hand away. His eyes are wrong. They’re colorless and milky. Rian’s hand clamps over my shoulder and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the ground shift beneath me. Midway there, Rian whispers the revealer. When I open my eyes again, we’re in a hidden alcove just outside of the inn.
    “That wasn’t Da,” he whispers as he pulls me into the street. We pause at the guards posted at the inn door just long enough for them to wave us through. When we duck inside we find Elliot and Mya sitting at the table, going over a list of supplies. Elliot looks up and smiles at us.
    “We were wondering where you two wandered off to,” he says. “Never mind, you’re back in time for lunch.” He pats his stomach and grins.
    “Right. We’ve got some things for you to take care of after.” Mya shuffles the lists as Elliot pats the bench beside him to invite us to sit, and Rian and I exchange a worried glance. If Elliot has been here, wide awake, then who was the fox in the Half-Realm waiting for us to cross the border out of Kythshire?

Chapter Seven: Interrogation
    Tib
     
    Clanging. Shouting. Marching. Stench. Creaking hinges. Slamming door.
    The candlelight is harsh after so long in the darkness. I try to remember how long. Hours, not days. Hours since they put me in here in this tiny room. Musty-smelling, like the roots. Dry, like the sand. Cleaner, though. I panicked at first when they left me here. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Be calm, a voice told me. Breathe. I did. It didn’t help much. I cower from the approaching flame. Can’t see the man holding it. My eyes aren’t used to the light yet. He drops a tin plate onto the rough table with a clatter. I jump and flinch away. Eye the dish. My stomach growls.
    “Eat,” he says. Pulls up a stool to sit. His uniform is neat. Blue and purple. Cerion’s colors. Not city guard. Palace. Palace guard. He nudges the dish toward me. “You don’t eat it, I’m taking it away. Don’t know when you’ll get another plate. Go on.”
    There’s bread. Meat. Hard cheese. I pick up some of that, the cheese. I sniff it before I take a bite. It’s good. Better than I’ve had before, even at Nessa’s. The meat, too. It’s fresh and hot. Lined with fat. I clean my plate too quickly. He waits awhile before he starts the questions.
    “You like to climb?” he asks.
    I don’t answer. I mop the last of the fat with my bread. My stomach churns. The towers. The fire. I can’t swallow. I feel his eyes on me. Try to look innocent, like Saesa with the dock workers. Shrug my shoulders.
    “Sometimes.” I say. My voice comes out thick. Guilty.
    “Yeah?” He pours me a cup of something brownish from a pitcher. At first I think it’s ale, but it’s too sweet when I sip it.
    “What is this?” I ask.
    “Cider,” he says. He blinks at me in disbelief. “You never had cider?” He peers into the pitcher and swirls it, then looks at me again.
    “No, sir.” I remember my sirs. Nessa says politeness can get you out of a pinch. “Thank you, sir.”
    “How old are you, boy?” he asks.
    “Twelve, sir.” I drain my cup and he fills it again.
    “From Sunteri?”
    “Yes, sir,” I admit. Not like I can hide that, looking like I do.
    “How long have you been in Cerion?” he asks. He leans back on two stool legs. Puts his hand casually on his sword hilt. It’s a big one. Way bigger than Saesa’s.
    “About a week, sir.” I gulp the sweet cider. My mouth is so dry. “I came in with the fleet.”
    “And you been staying with Lady Ganvent