Page 121 of The Starlight Savior

“To stop the bleeding, my lady,” the handmaid said apologetically before leading her from the room.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“What have you done?”

Saige’s door swung open, Conor rushing through. His cheeks were pink, eyes widened. The vein in his neck bulged at the flex of his muscles.

She sat up in bed, her head swimming.

“A fucking blood bond, Saige?” His hands raked through his hair. Pacing across the room, he muttered under his breath. “I should’ve known they would have something like that up their sleeve.”

“Conor,” Saige murmured, “what are you talking about?”

He looked upon her with the same panicked gaze he had given when the king stepped forward. “You should’ve said no.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“You always have a choice, Saige. Always.”

“And be sent to my death in Brevil?”

“The king would’ve never just thrown you away for being too powerful.” He strode forward across the room, gripping her hands tightly.

“So what? He would’ve locked me up? Used me at his disposable? Your father said I’m a weapon. An asset. The king granted me freedom. Ability to explore this power without shackles around my hands!”

“The blood bond is a shackle. You didn’t even have the chance to specify the terms further. Your task is to dedicate yourself to Etrane. That could mean anything. The king could claim any of his demands and wishes are for Etrane!”

Saige shook her head. Pain blossomed behind her eyelids. “Conor, please. I can’t think of this right now. What’s done is done.”

“Did you look at your arm?”

“What?”

Conor reached over, quickly pulling up Saige’s sleeve.

“Gods, Conor.” Saige winced. “You’re hurting me!”

He didn’t relent. Tugging the blood stained bandages away, he revealed her arm. Instead of the clean cut from the king’s dagger, an inky black design was marked on her body. It was the same way the king had dragged his finger along her arm, his blood forming an intricate circular shape. Where her own blood once welled, there was clean skin.

“W-What is this?” Saige stammered. Jerking her arm away, she rubbed her palm over the mark. But it didn’t go away. Even when she ran to the bucket of water in the washroom, it did not go away. She scratched at her skin. Despite all her efforts, it remained.

“You are marked,” Conor said sadly. “The consequence of a blood bond.”

“Why wouldn’t he have warned me?” Saige shrieked.

“Would you have said yes if so?”

“N-No! I didn’t want to be marked.” Her breaths came quick and hot. The King of Etrane had branded her.

Weapon. Asset. Pet.

Her nails continued to scratch against her skin, but not even the red, angry marks would appear. The ink of the blood bond was thick and heavy, tingling beneath her.

“What do I do?” Her voice was quiet. Somehow the act of marking her was heavier than the words she agreed to. Words could be altered, twisted, compromised. The brand could not.

Conor’s panic dissipated at the sight of Saige. He stepped from the bed to the washroom, holding Saige’s hands in his. Her fingers itched to pull away, to tear at her skin until the mark was gone. But she let the weight of his hands, the soft drift of his thumb, relax her. He brought them to his lips, kissing each finger lightly.

“There is nothing you can do now but obey.”