Page 66 of The Starlight Savior

“How do you know?”

“Think about what Tobin explained. The mind tries to protect itself, and for many years, it protected you from the moment that altered your experience forever. The block that kept you in the way of the very thing that triggered it: your magic. Now that the block is gone—”

“Well it’s not fully gone,” Saige clarified, setting down the mug. “I haven’t been able to conjure it since.”

Conor took her hand. “Either way, your defenses are lowered, and you’re becoming more open to being able to touch your magic. Even if it is just a bit. You are no longer being protected from the truth of what happened to your mother and father, or the things that you couldn’t explain.”

“I still can’t explain it,” Saige said. “It doesn’t make sense…”

“You can explain it easier than your ten-year-old self can, can’t you? You know that your father was a warlock. You know that you also possess magic, and what happened that evening was not some phenomenon, but just your power presenting itself at the right age. Your father must’ve known it was coming, didn’t he?”

Saige nodded, thinking back to her nightmares. There had been a context to his words that she had never understood. Could never quite pinpoint what they meant. But it was making more sense.

“Was he using magic on me?” she said, her voice cracking.

“Yes.” His words were heavy in the air. She hadn’t realized she hoped Conor would say no, that her father would never do such a thing. But of course he would. One thing everyone was consistent on was her father’s need to keep his family safe. If it was at risk, why wouldn’t he use magic on his daughter?

“How?” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand, shifting on the seat beside her so their eyes met. “Tell me again about your nightmare.”

She told him again, adding every detail she could remember. Conor sighed.

“One of the oldest kinds of magic is connected with spirit. The ability to thread to someone’s soul, the core of their energy. It looks differently in everyone, but King Vospella possesses it too. The ability to enchant. It doesn’t control you, but it nudges you in the right direction. You have to want whatever the enchantment is to some degree. Use the right intention, words, and movements, and it can be very powerful.” Conor hesitated, diverting his gaze to the wall of books. “Your father…he was known to be skilled at that. A sort of charisma that could manipulate the spirit of magic. It was why he was such a loss to Etrane when he decided to stay in Brevil with your mother.”

The tea went bland on her tongue. “So what did he do to me?”

“It sounds like he enchanted you when he touched you. Essentially demanded that you didn’t move from under the bed until you were safe. The magic locked that intention in place, and your mind was too small, too weak, to fight past it.”

“And to the soldiers?”

“Probably the same thing. Demanded that they look past what they saw and heard and believe there was no magic.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“No,” Conor said slowly, “it sounds like it didn’t.”

“Why? The soldier was mortal. Wouldn’t my father be stronger?”

“Every mind is different. Protected and strengthened in different ways. Just because one is mortal does not make their mind weaker. Eons ago, Brevillian soldiers were trained at strengthening their minds. That man, the general, could have had the same training.”

Her head lolled back in exhaustion. In moments where she believed she was at her breaking point, another discovery was thrown at her. The man she had envisioned as her father was not a mortal blacksmith, but a talented, powerful, and manipulative warlock.

“I don’t know why it hurts so much,” Saige said.

“It’s an invasion,” Conor said, “for your mind to be altered and for magic to lock you in place. I understand, believe me. I do.”

“You do?” Saige said, her eyes wide.

Conor squeezed her hand. “Yes.”

“How?” Saige pushed unexpectedly. Gods, she wanted to know this warlock before her. Trust him.

But Conor only smiled, a sad look in his eyes. “I think that is a story for another evening, at another time.”

“You’re quite mysterious for the general’s son.” She grimaced, pulling her hand away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Then why don’t we start over, witchling?”