Page 122 of The Starlight Savior

Saige gladly accepted the hug Conor pulled her into, relishing in the feeling of his lips grazing her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against him. “I should’ve listened to you. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Conor quieted her words with a soft shush. “You’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll figure it out.”

Despite the knowing feeling that no such promise could be kept, she leaned into the quiet comfort of his words nonetheless.

Chapter 45

Saige awoke to an invitation in the form of a pristine scroll, demanding her presence in the councilroom. In the wake of her trials, she took extra care at her appearance, embodying the powerful starlight-wielders she’d seen in glimmers of her visions. A satin blue dress hugged her body, long sleeves flowing down her arms. Her black cloak hung across her shoulders, paired with a choking pendant. She’d tried to request an eight-pointed star, but Kira could only find one with seven points, a moonstone glittering in the middle.

Eva had arrived to accompany Saige to her first council meeting. Her aunt braided her hair intricately down her back as Mika smudged coal under her eyes. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t just feel like a witch. She looked one too.

“Ready?” Eva said quietly, peering past Saige’s shoulder and into the mirror.

Nodding, she rose with a slow exhale. Kira and Mika bustled around the room, cleaning up discarded clothes and cosmetics.

“I’d suggest doing minimal speaking today,” Eva warned as they walked through the hallways. Her aunt’s thin hand rested on Saige’s arm as their dresses swept behind them. “It’s an honor to be included in the king’s court.”

“I’ve earned it,” Saige declared with a rise to her chin. Butterflies swarmed in her belly at the thought of being surrounded by Etrane’s most powerful. The blood bond itched under her dress as they arrived at the councilroom.

Gone were the ancient basins, replaced by a long table in the center of the room. A handful of seats lined the edge. Eva found her place beside the Zathos’s. Saige’s eyes immediately landed on the general’s son, the family clustered together. Conor’s back was rigid against the chair, but when their eyes met, his shoulders slowly lowered. The final seat was at the end of the table, right across from King Vospella. Saige hastily sat right as the king spoke.

“Updates,” King Vospella began.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said the king’s hand. He unrolled a parchment paper, a finger scanning the words. “The mist continues to drive west through Etrane, mostly through farmland. All villages and homesteads have been evacuated to Athalos.”

“Any news on Nical opening their gates to refugees?” Sebastien asked from beside his brother.

Saige’s ears perked. She’d heard minimal about the neighboring fire-wielding kingdom, including their closest town of Nical.

“Nasala continues to refuse to engage unless absolutely necessary. They keep any possible progress to protecting their kingdom a confidential matter,” Markus explained. The prince sat next to his mother, his beard neatly trimmed, revealing the sharp angles of his face. His gaze moved across the table, landing on Saige, sensing her peering presence.

“What is the mist’s current pace?” King Vospella turned back to his hand.

“Maester Romulus from Newstar expects the mist to consume Etrane and the majority of Brevil in two winters.”

The silence in the room thickened around them. Saige shifted in her seat, trying to veer her attention away from the looming pressure on her shoulders. If she was to ensure Opela’s safety, it would be up to her to push the mist back. But how? Wielders trained for years to master their power. Saige’s magic, foreign and untrainable, didn’t have years to spare.

A handmaid circled around the council room’s table, setting down parchment before the king’s court. Saige recognized it as the common map of Opela, but red ink was scribbled across areas where the mist occupied. Where Etrane was already evacuated, blue ink circled homesteads, villages, and towns.

“That is better news than we expected.” The queen spoke quietly, looking down at her own map.

“Yes, it appears the mist has slowed down,” the king’s hand agreed.

The updates continued throughout the meeting.

General Zathos reported that armies continued to form in the northern territories. The north was a subset of Etrane, connected to the old customs of Opela. They didn’t worship Tonirus, nor divulge in modern necessities. Instead they lived for Silva, separate from recent politics. Thanks to Markus and Sebastien’s involvement, General Zathos officially secured their alliance and commitment to aid in evacuation and fight against any enemies. Specifically Tiranos.

“Will your eldest son be leading them?” King Vospella asked, eyes trained on Conor.

“No, My Lord,” General Zathos said, “my youngest son is more equipped to keep the northern territories at bay.”

King Vospella nodded with disapproval. “What of the experiments?”

Maester Tobin straightened. “I sent correspondence to all allies last evening for any witches to replicate Lady Nerestel’s trials. Especially with the dead plants or Ignesa’s flame.”

“And?” King Vospella said with a wave of his hand.

Tobin shifted in his seat, diverting his gaze. “None were successful.”