Page 35 of The Starlight Savior

“Well,” Saige said, taking a step back from the door, “this is quite the adjustment then.”

The other handmaids trailed in with cosmetics and her dress. This time it was not green, but a deep blue. Almost black. The same color Eva wore. Short sleeves wrapped around the tops of her arms as the corset she still wore pinned her midriff in place. She felt exposed, despite the dark color. As if every curve and muscle and bone could be spotted.

Now that she knew what she was truly here for, there was an unfamiliar pressure on her chest that she didn’t recognize. There hadn’t been many expectations growing up. Her parents encouraged Saige to be as free as possible. Now that made sense, knowing how her father grew up. He was crafted to be the perfect warrior. Perfect warlock. And yet he failed. He became a father and husband instead.

She could feel the expectation behind what came next lingering. She was presumed to weave herself into a world she didn’t understand, to mold herself into a witch. Oscar Nerestel’s daughter.

But how?

With hopes to ease her restless thoughts, Saige absorbed the three handmaids’ conversations. Clearly more comfortable than yesterday, each of them talked animatedly as Saige was prepped.

“With all the mist commotion, do you think you’ll return home to Nasala?” the freckled one asked Esme.

Esme shook her head as she brushed through Saige’s hair. “I don’t think so, Kira. They aren’t allowing anyone past their borders.”

Kira sighed. “Hopefully they open them soon. I’m sure you miss your siblings. Did you hear one of the Zathos brothers evacuated a northern commune? It’s getting closer.”

“Which brother?” the third handmaid asked, swiping rouge over Saige’s lips. “They’re both dreamy.”

“Sebastien,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s much more handsome. Even if he is the younger one.”

“I always loved when they stayed in the capital,” the third one continued. “They were a bit savage, but the general does have harsh training methods.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Esme sighed, hands braiding quickly through Saige’s hair.

“I suppose so. Sebastien is next in line to be general when his father steps down. He’s already leading that northern army where they’re from. Isn’t that noble, Mika?” Through the mirror, Saige could see Kira’s pale cheeks turn crimson.

“Not the eldest one?” Mika asked, cocking her head.

“Conor must possess something different,” Kira exclaimed. “Why else would the king keep him so close?”

Before they could continue, Esme pinned a silver comb into her hair. “You’re finished, my lady.”

The door suddenly opened. “There you are,” Conor called. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

All three handmaids bowed, but she could see Kira’s cheeks were still rosy, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for the help.” Saige turned to each of them. “Esme, Mika, Kira.”

As they left, Conor’s gaze trailed down Saige’s body. Instead of wrapping her arms around her midriff, she took his extended arm.

“You know their names?”

“Of course I do.” Perhaps the wielders preferred to ignore the staff pampering their lives. Saige would do no such thing though.

“That’s kind of you,” Conor said softly, leading her out into the hallway. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing could be worse than last night,” Saige said honestly.

Conor paused in the hallway, head bent low as he looked at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, witchling. It’ll be okay.”

“Witchling?” Saige mused. “Where did that come from?”

Conor shrugged, resuming their route. “Usually referred to an untrained witch, although they’re often younger than ten.” He flashed her a grin.

“Is it similar to wolfling?” She kept her voice steady. There was something there in that word that tugged at her.

Conor’s body went rigid beside hers. “Sort of. Just a silly thing from childhood.”