Page 28 of The Starlight Savior

“Your kindness flatters me,” she mustered.

“I’m sure it does,” Conor murmured. They turned right again, leading towards a set of wide wooden doors. Two warlocks in armor opened them, nodding at Conor as they stepped into the dining hall.

Saige knew so little of what she was walking into. Brevil only spoke of their king, Claude Brennus, and the gratitude they were supposed to feel from being protected from war. He constantly declared he was blessed by Terrus himself. But now, standing in the castle, Saige was unprepared for the life laid in front of her. Especially this supper.

Yet she found it was exactly how she expected and more. Three long wooden tables sat in the middle of the large space with more chairs than Saige could count. Dozens of food platters were placed between flickering purple candles and luminescent flowers and vines. House sigils hung on banners around the room. Witches and warlocks of all ages were a symphony of blues, purples, silvers, and blacks.

Of course there was no one wearing green. She was out of place once again, despite the warlock on her arm.

At the front of the dining hall, a smaller table sat upon a platform, facing the guests. A large woven tapestry backdropped the ten chairs, depicting the snowy mountains, lightning, and a storm God towering over them. Eight wielders sat on the platform, leaving two chairs empty. The King of Etrane sat in the middle, beside who she presumed to be his wife. His gaze radiated power as it locked on Saige, penetrating right through her skull. His white hair was tied back, revealing porcelain skin without a single wrinkle. His robes’ indigo threads glimmered as he shifted in his seat, leaning back.

“Conor Zathos,” the king spoke. His voice was deeper than Saige expected, but enchanting nonetheless. They paused at the door, her grip tightening on his arm. Conor’s muscles flexed under her fingertips. “You’re late.”

“My apologies.” Conor bowed his head. “The lady needed a moment to ready herself. Your invitation was quite unexpected.”

“You may take your seat.”

Conor dropped his arm, giving a quick squeeze to her hand. Her body suddenly felt cold without his warmth next to her. He walked through the room, not looking back as Saige was gawked over.

Stepping up onto the platform, Conor surprised Saige by taking one of the empty seats. She had been so entranced by the king that she hadn’t noticed General Zathos and Lady Zathos sitting up there. Without his wolf helm, he looked strikingly like his son. His ebony hair was cropped short, his face sharp like knives. His wife, Conor’s mother, looked more beautiful when she wasn’t infiltrating Saige’s village. Her dark hair was braided intricately down her neck. Strings of jewels wrapped around her throat.

Saige didn’t know what to do or where to move. Her body was floating as she waited for instruction. The only person who wasn’t looking at Saige was Conor. He still looked at the king, waiting. Each guest looked at her like she was on display.

Now she understood why Conor suggested the cuffs. But thanks to her outburst, she didn’t have to worry about burning brightly.

“Sit down,” the king spoke finally, one brow raised.

Saige tried to step forward, but the room blurred around her. “I-I don’t know where to sit.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She was prey here, waiting to be pounced on by a room of endlessly powerful predators.

“You didn’t tell her?” she heard Lady Zathos say, leaning towards Conor.

“I was informed it wasn’t my task to enlighten her on her lineage,” Conor said smoothly, gaze remaining on King Vospella. His voice was void of all humor and teasing, flat and powerful in the presence of the king.

“Speak with respect,” General Zathos barked.

“There was no disrespect in my words,” Conor said. “I was ordered to keep watch and escort her, nothing further.”

“Your orders may govern your actions, wolfling,” the king said slowly. “They do not excuse your tone.” He looked to Saige. “You’ll be sitting with the Nerestels.” He raised a hand, gesturing to the table closest to him.

Sweat pooled in the palm of her hands. There was too much going on, too many people looking at her. Wolfling? Nerestels? What was he speaking of?

“I-I’m sorry, my lord,” Saige choked out, hoping she addressed the king correctly. “I don’t understand.”

As the king smiled, Saige finally could see the strong yet dangerous warlock who ruled the storm kingdom. Saige swore his eyes were lit with magic, his smirk cruel and cunning. “What remains of your family.”

Chapter 13

The king’s words immobilized Saige. The dress, once beautiful, was a cage wrapped around her body, constricting and squeezing the life from her. Eyes roaming across the room, she searched for any sort of anchor or exit. Something to help ground her or flee. Steel bit into her back as Saige thoughtlessly backed up into the guard’s blade.

“Well?” King Vospella said, feet kicked up on the table. Did he think this was all a game, dangling such atrocities in front of her?

“I don’t know what you speak of,” Saige finally bit out. The room broke into a unison of murmurs. She couldn’t latch onto a single word as her heartbeat thudded. The king barked out a laugh, leaning over to General Zathos.

Her gaze on the king was suddenly broken. Eva stepped in front of her, grip tight on her arm. Saige could barely feel her feet as she was led away from the entrance and towards an empty seat beside Eva’s.

“What is this?” Saige choked out, absently lowering herself into the wooden chair. Eyes pinned on her from all directions, expectant. It was suddenly as if everyone knew more than she did.

“I thought you would’ve picked up on it by now, especially with the letters,” Eva murmured closely. “If it was my choice, I would’ve confessed in your quarters.”