Page 56 of The Starlight Savior

“I was a coward,” Ilia cried softly. An energy crackled between them as Ilia’s fingertips glittered purple. “I could’ve saved her—”

“How?” Saige pushed. “Your hands were bound. Would you have bit them? Kicked em’ in the groin?”

Ilia let out a half-hearted laugh, magic dimming from her hand. “Maybe.”

Saige lowered her head, meeting Ilia’s eyes. “There is nothing you could’ve done to stop them. None of us could have. Even myself. In moments where we may be in trouble, our minds responds in the safest way. Sometimes we freeze. Sometimes we fight back.”

“What do you do when you’re scared?” Ilia said softly, moving closer to Saige.

Her smile faltered. All she could do was speak honestly. “I’m always scared. Oftentimes when I don’t know what to do, I…hide.” Shame burned low in her stomach as she offered comfort she didn’t believe she deserved.

Ilia’s dark brows pulled together. “Hide? How would that make you feel better?”

“It doesn’t,” Saige admitted, “maybe in the moment. But we often have to face our fears anyway.”

Ilia looked down. “I don’t know how I can move forward without her.”

“What was your sister’s name?”

“Syla.”

“Beautiful.” Saige squeezed her knee. “I imagine Syla would suggest starting with today. And whatever tomorrow holds, you’ll be able to face that too.”

Ilia was quiet, letting the words dangle in the air. A soft smile danced upon the healer’s lips as he peered at the two witches while wrapping the girl’s wounds.

The thoughts about Ilia’s grief had come so easily. Saige didn’t know what was preventing her from believing the words herself.

“My lady?” the healer said, rising from the ground. “Why don’t you come with me? Maybe you truly will be of help.”

Saige nodded as she rose. “Be well, Ilia.” She smiled. A small strip of cloth was placed gently over the cuts on her face. “If you need anything, my name is Saige.”

Ilia’s eyes widened, her face splitting into a smile. “Oh, we all know, my lady. We’ve been praying for the savior witch to defeat the mist.”

“The savior?” Saige drew her brows together.

“It was beautiful to see your magic today. We’ve all been so jealous of Esme…” Ilia’s brows drew in. Saige’s heart clenched witnessing the hope in Ilia’s eyes, suddenly extinguished. “I’m sorry…about…”

Hearing savior uttered from her young lips was cold water splashing against her cheek. Shocking and frightening. If only they knew she wasn’t truly capable of doing magic. Not in the way that could defeat the mist.

“Thank you,” she murmured before following the healer to the next row of shelves.

“The name is Otto.” He gave her a sheepish smile and reached for the satchel strapped across his linen uniform. A jar of salve, strips of cloth, and bundles of herbs were pulled from the pockets. “Can you heal?”

Saige looked down at her hands. “No. Not yet, I don’t think.”

“I’m sure your presence is enough. But use these for any wounds until a mender can come.”

Otto and her visited each servant who needed support, physical and emotional. While he healed wounds with magic and salves, Saige simply sat with them.

Sometimes she would talk, telling the servants, young and old, of her time in Brevil. Or of her father. Her heart beat quickly with every word as she answered their questions truthfully. Others wished for her to listen as they recounted their mornings and the disruption to their routine. Servants often rose before the sun, preparing food, washing clothes, and sweeping hallways. The Tiranos legion had already been waiting for them, requesting for someone to retrieve the ancient-wielder Etrane had captured from the mortal lands. Most of them had remained silent and unyielding, resulting in battered bodies and bound limbs.

Every one of them apologized for Esme’s death.

She thanked each of them for their bravery, wishing them well. Yet when they referenced her as savior or ancient-wielder, her insides turned sour. She was neither. She was only a girl from Brevil hoping to gain some sort of composure herself.

They continued on until Saige spotted Kira, her other handmaid who swooned over Conor’s brother. Sitting at one of the crafted wooden tables, her handmaid cradled her arm. As they approached, Kira rose quickly, wincing into a curtsy.

“Lady Saige, I apologize for my lack of presence today. Once I get fixed right up, I’ll be available—”