Page 37 of The Starlight Savior

A flash of her father’s face lit up behind her eyelids. His dark hair sticking to his forehead, blood trailing down his neck from the slice of a sharp sword to his lifeline. Red tainting her mother’s golden hair. The day it didn’t haunt her mind would be the moment she was free.

A day that would never come.

Conor gave one last squeeze to Saige’s hand before letting it go and retreating. An act of defeat, as if he knew that she could not let go of the memories, of the weight and guilt that gnawed at her skin, a wound that would never close.

Taking Conor’s arm, she followed him through the dining hall’s door and half expected him to push her in, leaving her to be eaten by the wolves. But he paused, taking hold of her wrist once again.

“You are defenseless in there,” he acknowledged.

“How observant of you.”

A ghost of a smile trailed Conor’s lips. “But this is your opportunity to show King Vospella that you can be a part of this world. That you can be trained as one of us.”

“Is that what this is all about? For me to prove myself?”

Conor nodded. “It is a risk to take in someone like you.”

Someone like you. Someone who was born and raised to hate, despise, and fear magic-wielders? Saige wanted to ask more, to tug her wrist back into her own space and demand him to clarify. But there was not enough time for such explanations. The last few royals were beginning to stride through the dining hall doors, elaborate dresses flowing behind them and shining swords strapped to hips.

“If you want to be trained and help the kingdom, the king must see that his…investment will be fruitful. Anytime you feel your magic surge, think of my thumb.”

Saige’s face paled, her eyes dropping down to his large hand wrapped around her wrist again.

“Or hold onto your own wrist and focus on that movement,” Conor added, noticing the look of shock.

“And if I can’t control myself?” Saige shifted on her feet. A single time of dampening her magic was not enough hope in being able to control it.

Conor lowered his head. In a soft voice, he said, “Then I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Saige held his gaze, letting his words sink in. There was no other choice but to control the magic, to sit in a room full of royals who knew more about her father and his life than she did, and wait for the king to deem her worthy enough to be trained.

As a witch.

She imagined her mother and father, but this time they were not decaying on the floor, their blood seeping through floorboards. They were smiling at her. They had been dead for over ten years, all to protect her. If she threw it away, it would be for nothing.

She didn’t say a word as she pushed through the door, her chin raised, hair flowing down her back, the dark blue dress trailing behind her, and walked right into her fate.

Chapter 17

All evening, Saige focused her energy into finding any form of distraction. The shine of her empty plate. The feeling of food in her mouth. Her beautiful dress, hot and sticky against her body. The inside of Saige’s wrist was warm as she imagined Conor’s thumb rubbing back and forth. Voices around her began to sound as if she was dunked in her tub, increasing in volume as her skin tingled. Whether anyone tried to speak to her, she didn’t know.

When supper was complete, she was relieved. Chair legs scraped against stone as bodies rose from the table. Saige followed suit, her hand still wrapped tightly around her wrist. Pushing through the crowd, she heard a booming voice that stopped her in her tracks.

“Saige Nerestel.”

His voice rattled in her skull, urging her to stop. Her body unwillingly lunged towards the king, his tone demanding her acknowledgement.

Magic, her body screamed at her. He was using magic. She barely hid the disgust on her face as her body moved methodically towards the platform. Everyone had left besides the twin guards in onyx plated armor, who didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“I’d like some time alone with Lady Nerestel.”

The guards didn’t question the king’s judgment, trusting his command and retreating past Saige. The heavy wood echoed as the door slammed.

“You clean up nicely,” the king bit out. “Just last evening you were simply a clueless, rabid girl. But now it almost looks as if you fit in here.”

Saige’s fists clenched at her side, her thumb trailing over her skin. The urge to look away, to disintegrate at the intensity of the king’s gaze was great. It burned her eyes. But she couldn’t. The command in his voice was laced with a sort of power she had not experienced before.

“Although I did not see you speak a word this whole evening.”