Page 81 of The Starlight Savior

“He’s…” Conor’s gaze drifted past Saige and towards the group of warlocks and Niana drinking ale and dancing along. One of the men in guard uniform was spinning Niana, her bright hair drifting in the air. “Sebastien is an exception. He can protect himself better than I can.”

“How so?”

The corner of Conor’s mouth twitched up. He leaned in, letting his lips brush against her skin. She felt her skin raise all the way down her neck. “Some things may need to be discussed in private. There are often people listening for these exact slips of the tongue.”

Pulling away, he watched as her eyes widened.

“Spies?” she whispered. “Like…Niana’s sister, Mayla?”

Conor smiled. “Yes, most kingdoms have intelligence gatherers who will report back to their own. Considering Etrane tends to accept any magic-wielder, they’re more difficult to spot.”

“So don’t speak about soul-baring secrets in public?”

“Correct,” Conor said with a quick nod.

“And what about Tobin?”

“What about him?”

“You didn’t want to share your secrets around Tobin either.”

“You could imagine that the very man who trains the majority of wielders would have loose lips.”

“Tobin?” Saige laughed. “A gossiper?”

“You’d be surprised. Not a malicious sort, but still.” Conor shrugged. “Loose lips.”

“Noted,” she said, putting the information aside. She wasn’t inclined to share much information with Tobin anyways. At least not anything most of the castle didn’t already know.

“Now, we have the whole night ahead of us.” Conor tugged her against his chest once again. “Let’s spend it right.”

Chapter 32

The music continued all evening with a multitude of dance partners stealing Saige away. Conor, Niana, and even Sebastien all took turns dancing with her, hands sweaty as they skipped along to the beats.

The only one she avoided was Prince Markus Vospella.

She didn’t know why, but his lingering heated gaze left a chill spreading down her spine. The way he looked at her…it was different. She couldn’t place her fingers on it.

But no matter what dance partner she had, she always fell into Conor’s arms. Over the last handful of weeks, something had shifted. Despite not knowing when it began, she was drawn to the handsome warlock. Anytime she was with him, a calmness swept over. His subtle words explained the walls he had up, similar to hers. The only difference was most had the ability to see through hers. Conor’s defenses were more difficult to decipher.

When the music died down, the royals stood in front of their thrones with prepared speeches. General Zathos boasted of Sebastien and Markus’s hard work in the north, emphasizing their ability to reunite subsets of Etrane that previously clashed. King Vospella provided miniscule updates on the mist, reassuring that there had been no current movement or increased risk. Lastly, the queen led a moment of silence for the lives lost during Tiranos’s infiltration. Tears brimmed her eyes as the wielders bowed their heads. Priestess Domina murmured a prayer, blessing their journeys to the Otherworld.

“Need a break?” Conor asked once the music and gala continued.

Saige looked up to see him standing beside her, hands behind his back. “Sure.”

With a smile, Conor lifted his arm. She slid her own between his, her other hand resting on the soft fabric of his forearm. They threaded through the crowd, walking out two glass doors.

“Going on a walk,” he informed the guards as they stepped forward.

The crisp air awakened her senses as they stepped out into the castle gardens. Her head buzzed from the goblets of ale, ears still ringing from the crescendo of music. She only ever saw the gardens during the day, and it was otherworldly trailing down the quiet moonlit path. Budding flowers illuminated all corners. Bright pinks, blues, and yellows awoken with the power of the stars. Water trickled down a stream that flowed from melting snow of the mountain peaks around them. Wisps of willow trees trailed across her head, tickling her scalp. Across, a temple dedicated to Tonirus was lit up by purple candles and orbs of light.

Conor’s arm was heavy, laced between hers, his scent tickling her nose. She had the urge to bury her face into his neck, to soak in the comfort of his presence. But the anonymity of him tugged at her.

They were alone now. No spymasters or shadows to linger on their words.

But she wasn’t going to beg someone to trust her.