Page 23 of The Starlight Savior

The handmaid smiled. “Luxuries of magic.” A small flame appeared on her golden fingertips. “I assume there is no such thing as magic heated baths in Brevil, no?”

Saige shook her head, skin itching to soak in the warm water. King Brennus would never permit such amenities.

When the handmaids turned, Saige stepped out of her clothes. Her foot lowered into the hot water, wincing at the burn traveling up her skin. As her body sunk deeper, her muscles melted, shoulders relaxing against the smooth tub. Blinking away water droplets, she felt bathing soap being lathered into her palms. Behind her, hands scrubbed her thick hair until it smelled of honeysuckle.

When her skin was raw and dried off, the fire-wielder helped her step into her dress. Thick, dark green fabric hugged her body, long sleeves flowing down her arms and concealing the metal cuffs. The handmaids pulled and tugged at knots and strings. The corset, embroidered with patterns of flowers and leaves, was so tight around her midriff, Saige could barely breathe.

Eva and Conor sat in the armchairs as they awaited her. A third chair and full sized mirror had been dragged into the room. As Saige sat, a full-faced witch brushed her tangled hair, using her other hand to conjure a soft wind to dry her onyx strands.

“Well,” Saige said, narrowing her eyes at Eva, “why am I here? And how did you find me?”

Rising from the chair, Eva strode toward the mirror. “Our kingdom has been planning your extraction from Brevil for many moons.”

One of the girls stepped forward, carrying jars of thick salve, each a different color. Her cheeks and lips began to be painted intricately.

“Because you wish to use my…magic…against the mist,” Saige stated.

Eva nodded slowly. “Opela is dying. Patches of decayed land. Unforeseeable monsters attacking villages. We have had task forces sent out across Opela, but most do not return. Including my younger brother.”

“Why not?” Saige suddenly pushed. She didn’t know how this woman and her brother were relevant to her, yet she found herself pulled in. The softness of her voice. The visible grief in her gaze, glistening with tears. She somehow understood it all.

“My brother was stationed in the mortal kingdom. Before your laws were so intense. He had many difficulties with the mist, but decided to stay and aid Brevil. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Eva’s voice broke. She wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry.” Saige fidgeted in the chair as coal was smudged close to the bottom of her eyes. The fire-wielder brushed ink through her eyelashes.

“That’s another story for another time.” Eva sighed. “There is too much for you to know. More than you can learn in one sitting. But it is best to have some knowledge before tonight…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze became glassy. “Where do we begin…”

“Tell me more of the mist.” Saige’s neck strained as her hair was twisted and pulled into intricate knots and braids.

“Did you attend school?” Eva asked. When Saige nodded, she continued. “What did they teach you about the mist and the wars beyond?”

“That it was formed by corrupt magic,” Saige exclaimed. “Any kingdom who used magic would be impacted by the mist once the wards fell.”

“They were right in connecting it with the wards, but it wasn’t any magic. Tiranos spawned the mist, but not willingly. The barriers were forged with the creation of Opela. It was meant to be a safeguard to ensure minimal conflict. When the wards fell, the previous Tiranos ruler wished to reclaim Mara’s wishes of taking more land.”

Saige cocked her head. Mara was the Goddess of Water, yet how could a Goddess be greedy?

“So if it was water magic, why can’t Tiranos fix it?” Saige inquired.

“Because the wards and the mist aren’t made of any magic connected to the elements. It is ancient. But such magic often backfires. The wards were gone at the hands of Tiranos. There seemed to be some loophole though. An Opela without wards wasn’t safe. Mist traveled throughout, infiltrating the other kingdoms. Almost like a punishment.”

“That’s not the version I learned,” Saige spoke honestly.

“Of course it isn’t,” Conor sneered from the armchair. “Mortals often hide behind falsehoods.”

Eva continued, ignoring Conor. “General Zathos promised you safety and the ability to train. But I need you to understand Opela is at risk everyday. Not just from the mist, but Tiranos as well. They ambush and strike at any time. You must always be ready to fight.”

“How? I’m no soldier.”

“With your magic. One must always fight magic with magic,” Eva continued. “There is no other way. And for thirty years, we’ve searched for a witch strong enough for such a task.”

“How do I fight with magic if I don’t understand it? I’ve had no training or explanations.” Heat prickled Saige’s skin.

She looked down at her hands and the cuffs accompanying her. For the last day, she hadn’t been able to tell whether she enjoyed or despised the immobility. It had been ten years since she was completely absent from pain. Her grief and anger remained, lingering in her belly, but the physical symptoms of her magic were depleted. No glow of her hands or burn of her skin.

One handmaid stepped aside as Eva strode forward. She placed her hands over Saige’s, warmth tugging her back to the room. “I’m so sorry. You must have been so alone grappling with all of this.”

She looked at Eva. No one had ever expressed such condolences to Saige. Judith provided the physical support, yet she tiptoed around the subject of her origin. Althea didn’t know enough to realize the grief that blanketed her mind and body. It was intoxicating to hear it acknowledged, to feel the energy sitting between them.