Page 78 of The Starlight Savior

Niana was a perfect buffer for Saige to not only separate herself from Conor, but distract her from the castle’s turmoil. A friend that didn’t tug at her most vulnerable parts.

Conor slowly smiled as she turned towards the courtyard. There was a small piece of her that did want to celebrate, even if doubt still clouded her mind. Leaving Brevil, she sacrificed everything with hopes of peace one day. Deep in her bones, she knew she was halfway there. She just had to unravel the rest of her path.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Heavily armored wielders brimmed the corners of the great hall as Saige stepped into the gala. An expansive candle-lit chandelier illuminated the space, providing a soft purple glow over the guests. King Vospella and his queen, Leana, sat upon two thrones at the front of the room. A third one remained empty. Their lapels were forged in silver and dark purple fabric, glittering jewels encased in their crowns. Paintings of snow-peaked mountains, lightning storms, and battles lined the walls. The scent of roasted meat and glistening pastries filled the air as servants set up the buffet on long tables. On the farthest side, jugs of liquor, wine, and ale awaited the buzzing guests. Melodic, slow music flowed throughout the space as the wielders clung to each other, spinning and swaying.

Athalos’s citizens were dressed in their finest for the return of the northern legion. Even Saige, who sported the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. Mika informed her that Esme had sewn it herself, just for Saige. With exposed shoulders, the dark blue silk rested on her forearms, hugging her hips tightly and flowing out like water. The fabric trailed behind her as she walked slowly, eyes scanning, hoping to find a familiar face. Her onyx locks were pulled back into intricate braids weaved across her head. Curls framed her face, miniscule opals threaded into her hair like tears.

Finally she spotted the wisps of bright hair as Niana danced.

“My friend!” Niana cried as Saige approached. The ice-wielder was in her usual black, the long sleeve dress embracing her body tightly. “Oh! It is so good to see you.”

Their hug was quick, as Niana’s dancing partner waited impatiently for her return to his arms.

“We have so much to catch up on. I heard your magic is being tested!”

Saige’s eyes crinkled with joy as she laughed. “We’ll talk later. Enjoy yourself.”

Niana gave her arm a quick squeeze before returning to her companion. Saige’s skin prickled at the sight of Cylas, the warlock with the bear armor. He had been the one to hold Judith down, straining her arms in odd angles. All cleaned up, his dark hair was slicked back, white scars illuminated on his cheeks and chin.

Retreating to the corner of the room, Saige felt a chalice of ale instantly pressed into her hand.

“You’re here,” Conor said from beside her. His dark hair was brushed away from his forehead, curls growing thick against his neck and ears.

“I said I’d come, didn’t I?”

Conor smiled, his boot kicking her satin slipper lightly. “Will you dance with me this time? Or will you be running off with Niana again?”

“Well,” Saige said, cocking her head to the side, “she seems to be occupied. And a gentleman usually asks first.”

Bringing the chalice to her lips, she let the sour ale soothe her nerves. The more she saw the storm-wielder, the more on edge she felt, a flurry of emotions building in her.

“Is this not my way of asking?”

Saige raised her brows. Conor threw back his head and laughed in a way she hadn’t seen before. The sound exploded from his chest, drawing eyes to them. “You are one of the most stubborn individuals I’ve met.”

Saige jabbed a finger into his chest. “It’s your choice to put up with it!”

Before her hand could make contact with Conor’s body, he moved quickly to grasp her wrist. He tugged it towards his chest, bringing her with him. Her eyes widened by his sudden daringness. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Alright, alright,” said a voice from behind them, “quit toying and come give your brother a hug! It’s my gala for Tonirus’s sake!”

Saige looked over her shoulder to spot a group of warlocks coming towards them. Some were dressed in Etrane’s guard uniform, while three of them led the group, wearing the clean cut look of royals. The silver and amethyst crown around one warlock’s head revealed him as Prince Vospella, a stranger to Saige. His white hair was cropped short, eyes bright with amusement.

The man beside the prince, dark hair shaggy on his forehead, wore something quite familiar. A deep purple jacket and black trousers with the same house sigil as Conor’s. A snarling wolf in silver.

“Sebastien!” Conor laughed, letting Saige’s hand fall to her side.

The warlock reached to clutch Conor’s forearm, drawing him into a hug. Despite him being the youngest Zathos brother, he was almost a head taller than Conor, his arms threatening to burst through the fabric.

The prince stepped forward. “You must be Lady Saige,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Markus Vospella. I’ve looked forward to being blessed with your presence.” He reached for her hand, his lips trailing across her skin.

Her palm was heavy in his grip. Frozen, Saige didn’t know what to say or do. The urge to pull away tugged at her, but the prince’s gaze kept her stagnant, sending goosebumps bursting across her skin.

Sebastien pulled away from Conor, wrapping an arm around Markus’s shoulders. She drew her hand back, skin tingling. “Ah, the witchling we worked so hard on rescuing. ”

“Kidnapping,” Saige corrected, diverting her gaze.