Page 77 of The Starlight Savior

The tingling sensation began at the base of her spine, traveling up her neck and sending a warm numbness across her body. She opened her eyes to see a soft glow throughout her veins, different from her response to the other four elements. When her gaze landed on the bones, barely floating over the silver basin, something flashed before her eyes.

Quick portraits. Her mother and father. The soldiers in her home. A depiction of the stars above, partially blocked by the heavy cloak wrapped around her. Running barefoot from Oswan to Denholm.

The bones suddenly clattered. The light in her body burned out. Saige swayed, stars bursting in her vision as Conor reached out an arm to stabilize her.

“I…” Saige began, but the words became stuck in her throat. “What was supposed to happen?”

Conor still held onto her, his strong body keeping her upright, but he wasn’t looking at her. Tobin and Conor peered at each other, exchanging unspoken words.

“It appears,” Tobin began, clearing his throat, “we still have some testing to do.”

“I was able to connect to all of them though,” Saige pondered. “I don’t understand.”

“Most wielders can in some way, considering the elements are all around us. If we don’t draw from our blood, then it draws from our environment. The bloodline, your specific abilities, is what we are searching for. The explosions of your magic is what we need to understand.” Tobin paced as he spoke, thick wrinkles forming on his head.

“So what now? We try Sydera? Silva?” Saige asked, hoping for some sort of direction.

Tobin shook his head. “We’d know if you could shift like Silva. That is passed through bloodlines with connections to the strong blooded. Bears, wolves, and whatnot.”

Conor’s hands tightened around Saige’s shoulders. She peered to look up at him, but his eyes would not trail down.

“And Sydera?”

Tobin was quiet for a moment, stopping as he paced. “That is a lost magic. Most of Sydera’s witches were outcast, executed, or passed on. Maesters don’t know how to test for such a thing.”

Saige sighed heavily. After her encounter with Tiranos’s ruthless wielders, Saige couldn’t waste time waiting for answers to her endless questions.

“I must do more research,” Tobin continued. “We will try again tomorrow. Until then, rest up.” Before Saige could say another word, Tobin exited the training hall with a sweep of his robes.

Chapter 31

“You know,” Conor said from behind, “it takes time to master this. Tobin is rushing you.”

Saige turned from the haunting basins, smoothing the scowl on her face. This test was supposed to be simple, just as Conor had demonstrated. The moment he let his magic merge with storm, it had sung to life. When Saige opened the gate of her power, bits and pieces of herself latched onto the elements swimming in the bowls. Nothing flooded to life like it was supposed to.

“Rushing?” She snorted. “These trainings feel like they’ve taken ages.”

“The history lessons he’s been giving you”—Conor pointed to the stained glass windows and mural above—“some take a full sun cycle to get that down. Mind blockages take even longer. He has you working excessively to catch up on all you’ve lost.”

“I suppose I’m determined.” Saige crossed her arms.

“You absolutely are. Despite thinking you’re inept, you’re quite good at this whole magic thing, witchling.” Conor circled the storm basin, trailing a finger over the metal edge. The mist and lightning tickled his skin. “Will I be lucky enough to see you tonight?”

“Tonight?” Saige’s brows knitted together, a blush traveling up her neck.

“My brother, Sebastien, and the prince, they came home today from the north. King Vospella is throwing some gala to celebrate their return and victories,” Conor said tensely.

“Maybe.” Saige shrugged, pulling at a loose thread on her trousers. She knew little about King Vospella’s only son or Conor’s brother. Both of them were oddly rarely mentioned. “Am I required to attend?”

“Probably. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy it either way.”

“I don’t know.” Saige bit her lip, thoughts drifting off. The full moon festival was one thing. That was Etrane’s tradition, a symbolism of hope and peace. But throwing a gala when the land could be uninhabitable? She couldn’t imagine enjoying such a thing.

The alternative was wallowing in her quarters. But spending time with Conor seemed precarious. Her mind and heart tugged in different directions when it came to the storm-wielder. Anytime she was with him, her soul was stripped bare. Though Conor didn’t share slivers of himself the way she was forced to. Today was evidence enough.

“We should celebrate.” Conor beamed, breaking the silence. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, his palms resting heavy. Ease swept over her. “Again. Your progress has been amazing. I know things have been difficult, but everyone will be there. Niana—”

“I’ll go,” she said quickly.