Page 10 of The Starlight Savior

Sometimes it wasn’t enough.

Rising from the bed, Saige tugged on her mother’s black cloak before she could change her mind. Her hands shook as she pulled the thick hood over her head. Silver symbols embroidered the edges of the soft fabric, bringing a sense of beauty and peace to her normally drab wardrobe. She had taken it the day she fled Oswan, her home village, the fabric too large for her child-sized body.

Now it fit perfectly.

As Saige passed Judith’s home, she paused at the dark windows. If the soldiers didn’t find the concealed stash, Saige could sneak a bottle or two. She didn’t have to go to the tavern to get her fix.

Yet it was not the liquor she craved. It was something else entirely that she wouldn’t find here.

She continued on her path, heading towards the village square. Her hooded cloak concealed her face. Over the years of keeping to herself, she memorized the paths of the village without looking up. And the benefit of keeping her head down was so did others. There was never much conversation or gossip she could offer anyways.

Heavy footsteps echoed all around her. A plethora of soldiers patrolled the roads, striding back and forth. The trees shook as warm wind swept against her face. She could hear the tavern as she approached. Bustling and drunk villagers laughed and sang, stomping to music that engulfed the streets.

It was a large wooden building, tucked away from the square’s shops and wagons. Light flooded from open doorways and large windows, curtains pulled back with a welcoming embrace. A couple was wrapped around one another, the woman’s body pressing into the post supporting the awning, her laugh melodic around them. Saige’s gut twisted at the sight. Not only had her inner power grown with age, but the sadness of isolation too.

Get it together. Normally she wasn’t so absorbed in her own slopping pity. She had accepted her circumstances long ago. But the day had disrupted the routine that kept her sane. It left room for everything she shoved away to break through.

Clinking glasses and shuffling feet greeted Saige as she walked in. The whole village was crammed into the open space, spilling out into the streets. Tables and chairs occupied every corner. Fiddles and drums erupted, creating a joyful beat, as people danced in the middle. To the right, a long bar was tended by a handful of women with stained aprons and red cheeks. They ran back and forth, hands full of mugs of ale and glasses of liquor.

Saige lowered the hood of her cloak, heading straight for the owner of the tavern.

“Ah.” Klara, the tavern owner, smiled, brushing her red braid off her shoulder. “I was wondering if you would show tonight. No cousin?”

“No,” Saige said with a tight-lipped smile, “she was in bed by the time I left.”

“Well almost the whole village clearly needed their fix, even you!” Klara laughed, her warm eyes crinkling.

“Oh really?” Saige said dryly, looking out across the tavern. “I guess getting our homes raided makes people want to drown their sorrows.”

“Don’t say that too loud; a soldier may hear and assume you’re a wielder,” Klara hissed with humor glittering in her eyes.

Saige tried to smile back, but the accusation reminded her of exactly why she was here. “Fetch me your strongest.”

Klara raised her brows. “That rough?”

Leaning against the bar, Saige said, “All this mayhem makes one want to drink. And I need one quite badly.”

Klara turned towards the shelves behind the bar, grabbing an amber bottle from the top shelf. Scooping a glass up from below, Klara set it down and filled it to the brim. “On the house.”

“I—” Saige began, but Klara held up a pale hand.

“Tomorrow night this space will no longer be for the people, but the king. I couldn’t care less about how much gold I get from you when all this will belong to the soldiers. It’s on the house.”

Saige shook her head. “I can’t accept this. Won’t you need the coin?”

“And spend it on what? Ration cards? I doubt coin will mean much when the king controls what we put in our mouths. Next thing you know, he’ll be asking us to report how often we sh—”

“Careful.” Saige raised the glass to her lips, letting the liquid coat her mouth. The soothing tingle arose instantly. “Don’t let a soldier hear you say that.”

“You know I speak for both of us.”

When she raised the glass again, she took a long sip, letting the burn travel down her throat, into her chest, settling into her stomach. The numbness soon followed, the hum under her skin subsiding to a dull throb. Her voice was thick as she spoke. “Thank you for everything, Klara.”

Klara waved her off, but there was a strange look in her eyes, suggesting this was the last evening of serving her villagers. Saige enjoyed the rare evenings she visited Denholm’s tavern. It’s owner remembered every face that walked through the doors. Getting them so liquored they’d have trouble walking home. Saige hoped to be one of them tonight.

Weaving through the tables, she searched for the dark curls of the twins. Most of the seats were occupied to the brim, with a handful of individuals residing in solitude.

The blacksmith who kept to the edge of Denholm.