Page 27 of The Starlight Savior

No one uttered a word as the three handmaids worked quickly to make Saige presentable again. Heads lowered, their hands shook as her hair was rebrushed and concoctions smeared on her face. She remained as still as possible, her mind buzzing with all that she’d learned so far.

When the handmaids turned towards the door, Saige stumbled forward. “Wait!”

Eyes widened, the three witches looked at her. The fire-wielder stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Yes, my lady”

“I—” Saige’s mouth remained open as she tried to conjure the words. “Thank you. For everything. I didn’t mean to—”

“Please don’t apologize, my lady.” The handmaid held up a golden hand.

“What is your name?” Saige’s cheeks reddened. “You’ve all helped me so much tonight. I feel rude not knowing who I’m thanking…”

“Oh,” she whispered, looking at the two other girls. “That is something most nobles do not ask—”

“I am not noble,” Saige whispered, “and I don’t know what may happen to me when I walk through the doors.”

The handmaid nodded, face softening. “I can’t speak for my companions, but you can call me Esme.” She took a step forward. “It hasn’t been confirmed, but I believe I’m being assigned as your handmaid. I hope knowing you’ll see a familiar face will calm the nerves.”

“Thank you, Esme.” Saige smiled earnestly.

Esme followed Saige out of the quarters, closing the door softly behind her. It was her first time venturing past the barriers of her quarters. Athalos’s castle was made of stone, and metal sconces illuminated the hallways. The eastern wing was where the king’s court and his guests stayed. Beside her door, tapestries of house sigils lined the walls. The same carving of her door embroidered on thick purple fabric caught her eye.

Conor leaned against the door across from her’s, smiling as she approached. His hands were behind his back, hair still wet from bathing. His dark purple coat was smoothed over, paired with black trousers and heavy boots. A silver dagger rested against his hip, the hilt carved from swirling metal.

“You cleaned up quite nicely,” he said.

“Is that your family sigil?” Saige pointed to the snarling wolf embroidered on the lapel of his coat. She hadn’t noticed it before.

Amusement flashed across Conor’s face. “Something like that.” He held out his arm, waiting for her to interlace it with her own.

Saige hesitated. It felt like a surrender, allowing him to parade her through the castle. Yet she had no other choice. It was her first time venturing out of her quarters, encompassed by this magical, foreign world.

Conor’s body relaxed as she took his arm. “I’m sorry to say, but there will be few moments spent alone. There will always be someone with you in Etrane. Whether myself, a guard, Eva.”

“Part of being your duty?” Saige murmured.

“Just a precaution. You never know what may happen.”

As they walked, she made the mistake of looking up. There was no denying that the warlock was handsome. The moment she spotted him in Denholm, he was a bright star in an empty sky. Now she understood why. Of course a warlock couldn’t blend in. He was a vessel of power, floating in a sea of mortals limited to rations.

Her feet ached as the heeled green shoes clicked against the stone floor. The castle was made up of twisting staircases and long corridors. The unusual sconce flames flickered purple, glowing off the artwork and craftsmanship surrounding them. Saige absorbed the elaborate and detailed paintings lining the wall. Depictions of the deities and Etrane were masterfully crafted, while powerful portraits with stone cold gazes peered down at her.

There were endless doors and dozens of floors to venture through. But finally, Conor tugged her through a large entryway that exited onto what appeared to be the main floor.

Standing at the top of a grand staircase, Conor paused, allowing Saige to drink it all in. The main hall was larger than Denholm’s square. An intricately woven rug of a glimmering moon sat on the stone. Servants, soldiers, and magic-wielders bustled around, weaving quickly around one another. Some were dressed in armor, while others wore skin tight trousers or trailing dresses. It was another world, completely separate from the peaceful villages she had grown up in.

She didn’t realize her grip had tightened on Conor’s arm until he led her down the stairs. She suddenly was grateful for his guidance. Stepping into this otherworldly experience, Saige didn’t know if she would’ve had the courage to descend alone.

The witches and warlocks around her looked up as Saige and Conor continued down the main stairwell, her dress trailing over a deep purple rug. She couldn’t help but stare back. From their lush hair to smooth skin, it was as if the magic that flowed through their bodies enhanced every piece of their existence.

How could Saige possess the same thing? Her magic ripped her apart, draining her of a life she so badly wanted to possess.

“You do look beautiful tonight.”

Conor’s gaze remained straight ahead as he turned them right, his words hanging between them. Maybe it was the rawness tearing through her, but Saige allowed herself to drink him in. His dark hair was thick, pushed back and curling around his ears. A ghost of a smile played on his full lips.

He knew she was looking at him.

Her head snapped forward. She could think he was handsome; she could enjoy his company, but she could never let herself fall into the traps of alluring smiles and compliments. Saige could never live a life of trust or intimacy. Not with a mortal, witch, or warlock. It wasn’t in her nature.