Page 36 of The Starlight Savior

“Ah, your infamous childhood. I heard it was quite savage.”

“Did you? The handmaids gossiping again?”

“A bit. Although no bad things. They did say your brother is quite handsome. Why haven’t I met him yet?”

“He’s not around much nowadays.”

“Are you two close?” Saige always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling.

Conor shrugged. “As close as you can be. A lot of our childhood was spent training against each other. When you have two powerful wielders bearing children, they need to be trained with a purpose. Doesn’t leave much room for bonding.”

As they turned, the dining hall doors greeted them. But instead of walking through, Conor quickly tugged her to the left, right into a small storage room.

“W-What are you doing?” Saige asked with widened eyes.

“I—” Conor hesitated, his hands slack at his side. “I have to remove the cuffs.”

“What?” Saige cried, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You expect me to go in there without some sort of magical restraint?”

“It is not my expectation,” he murmured. “It is the king’s, my father’s—”

“Fuck their expectations!” Saige’s cheeks burned red. Heat tingled at the base of her neck, threatening to flow into her fingertips. If she was in the dining hall now, cuffs removed, how could she control any of this?

Gods, she was beginning to rely on these wicked cuffs.

Conor reached out slowly, placing his large hands over the metal and bringing her towards his torso. The scent of spices and smoke enveloped her, their breaths heavy in the air. His head dipped, a dark curl landing on his forehead. But she scanned everywhere but him. A bruise blossomed under his thumbnail, his skin trailing Saige’s hand. A shelf loomed behind Conor, trinkets, weapons, and supplies spilling onto the floor.

“Saige?” Conor whispered. “We have to go. I need to take the cuffs off. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe. Trust yourself.”

Finally, she looked up. There was something in his gaze, as if he were searching for what she would do next. The idea of putting herself and others at risk was something she’d never allow herself to be a part of. But the king gave her no choice.

“Fine,” she whispered. She loosened her arms, surrendering all control of her body to him.

Conor closed his eyes, the thumb that had grazed her skin returning to the cool metal of the cuffs. The symbols glowed before the metal loosened and unclamped.

A sudden rush of energy flowed through her, the phantom remnants of power she had begun to despise increasing with each breath. She heard Conor yelp as she felt her arms and hands burn hot. Behind her eyelids, she could see the light burning bright, sunrays seeping through thin curtains.

“Saige,” Conor choked out, his grip never loosening around her wrists, “I need you to listen carefully. Focus on my thumb on your hand. Don’t focus on the light or the magic or anything that is going on inside your body—fuck—just focus on my thumb.”

He continued speaking. Pulling her wrists against his chest, he brushed his lips against her ear.

Focus on my thumb.

And so she did. The skin was not smooth, but not rough either. Just used. Lived in. A raised scar trailed over her wrist, up and down in the same motion, until the burning in her chest caved in, the fire in her hands and arms retreating to a tingle.

When she opened her eyes, Conor’s jaw was clenched. It was the only sign of pain Saige had caused him in simply existing without control. His bright eyes softened, emotions swimming in the silver pools.

“Don’t pity me,” Saige choked out. Her wrists were still pulled to his chest, and yet she didn’t tug away. His thumb moved in gentle strides. It kept her grounded. More present than she had ever felt.

Tidal waves flooded her system. Shock, awe, gratitude, jealousy. Why couldn’t she have been able to calm herself down before? The only thing she knew was to release. Not to contain. And yet a warlock’s simple thumb could level her emotions and magic better than she ever could. Maybe if she had known how to do this beforehand, she could’ve—

“Stop.” Conor tightened his grip on her hand. “You’re not as unreadable as you think. We all learn to control our magic as children. The difference is, we had someone to teach us.”

Saige pulled her hand back, her wrist bare without Conor’s long fingers wrapped around it. “Maybe I could have—”

Conor shook his head. “Stop dwelling in the past! You will always be shackled to this. Never in control.”

Saige did not know how to let go though. She was exhausted, but she knew nothing else.