Page 14 of The Starlight Savior

“I’m sorry.” It was all she could say. Althea was right. She knew small slivers of Saige’s life, ones that fit with Judith’s story. Yet what made her who she was, she had carefully put away, hidden from all of Opela.

“I hope one day you can heal from whatever the fuck happened to you before you came to Denholm. Losing your parents is the hardest thing anyone could go through. Not being able to know my mother has impacted me much more than I’d like to admit.” Althea’s voice cracked as she spoke, lip quivering. “I wouldn’t wish an isolated life upon anyone. But especially not for you. Gods, Saige. You deserve so much more. Don’t you know that?”

Saige opened her mouth, yet she was frozen. There was no response she could give that could reconcile this perception people had about her. Because it was true. All of it. It was as if Judith and Althea held up a mirror before Saige, revealing something jarring and indescribable.

Althea rose from the table when she realized Saige wasn’t going to respond. “I need some fresh air.”

Althea’s body weaved through the crowd. The mass continued to trail outside the entrance, the party spreading into the village square. Saige didn’t follow her. She sat there instead like the coward she was.

She scanned the dance floor. Hadeon’s white shirt was a beacon in a sea of dark green uniforms. A girl swayed comfortably in his arms to the slow harmonious tune. She was grateful Hadeon wasn’t waiting on the sides anymore for someone who wouldn’t come. Yet her chest ached nonetheless. One hand rested on the girl’s back, her chest pressed against his.

Hadeon was changing. But her yearning for him, his companionship, simmered deep. She rarely allowed herself to dream about such things. But now, it was all she could think of. What would it feel like to have someone’s chest pressed against her, lips grazing her cheeks, traveling down her neck? She had experienced it once by the fire. Now consumed by fragility, it was everything she craved.

Saige surged from her seat, the chair flying out behind her. There was no point in continuing the evening. She accomplished her goal, hadn’t she? Numb it all. Enjoy her friends. Or maybe she didn’t. If she was truly numb, her chest wouldn’t feel so burdensome. The conversation with Althea wouldn’t have happened, words sticking like honey.

Aren’t you lonely?

When I see you, it’s an empty canvas.

Despair dragged her through the crowd. She didn’t mind as she bumped into the shoulders of men and women, flying through the front door and into the cool air. Instead of being greeted with a clear path down the stairs, strong hands wrapped around her arms with a sudden scent of sweet spices and smoke.

“Careful there.”

Looking up, Saige expected to be in the arms of one of the soldiers or the drunken men slouching outside. The face that peered down at her was different. Unrecognizable.

Maybe it was the liquor, but Saige had never seen such a handsome man pass through Brevil. The candlelit sconces outside cast dancing shadows on his sharp jawline. Silvery storm clouds for eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked down upon her. Black curls wrapped around his ear and framed his face.

It was evident he wasn’t from here. Not because he was a new face appearing in a land of familiarity, but his skin. Most of Denholm’s citizens were naturally darkened by days of working outdoors, slick with sweat from the sun’s heat. This man’s skin was not kissed with sunshine. Instead it was pale. Like the snow from her father’s rare paintings.

“I-uh, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” Saige said, finally finding the nerve to speak.

The man chuckled softly. “No, I suppose you didn’t.” His voice was deep, a melody of syllables as he spoke slow and clearly.

“Thank you for catching me and not letting me embarrass myself out here. I hope you have a lovely night.” Saige moved her hands away from his chest, but he kept speaking.

“I doubt anyone would’ve noticed.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling brightly, catching on the silver trim of her hood around her neck. “Considering how utterly intoxicated everyone is. I’ve never seen such a drunken bunch of people.”

“It was a rough day,” Saige clarified with a polite smile. His hands were still on her arms, clutching her in place. He lowered them as Saige moved to continue down the steps. “Have a good evening,” she said with a curt nod. Smoothing down her skirt, she raised the hood of her cloak.

As she walked, a hand reached out again, grasping her arm. Turning, she found a desperate look on the stranger’s face.

“What is your name?”

Saige’s lips curled into a smile. The way he looked at her brought a lightness in her chest she didn’t recognize. It drowned out whatever anguish compromised her in the tavern. There wasn’t a single person in Denholm that didn’t know Saige, whether it be the strange child who appeared out of nowhere or the woman who kept to herself. “Why?” she asked curiously.

“Because I’d like to know what to call you when I see you again.”

She cocked her head. The stranger’s boldness was enticing. “You planning to stay awhile?”

“Maybe. As long as it’s necessary. I’ve taken a job here.”

“Mmm,” Saige said, nodding. She took a step back, letting the man’s hand fall away from her body. It felt like a trick, the mysterious outsider with dark hair and high cheekbones asking for her name. Maybe he was a soldier, recruited to Denholm after the chaos of executions and rations.

Normally, she would not give her name. But nothing was normal now. She didn’t even know what tomorrow would bring.

Aren’t you lonely?

“Saige,” she said, “you can call me Saige.”