Page 4 of The Starlight Savior

The wealthiest of Denholm resided in a cluster of manors on the village’s western border, farthest from the rest of the citizens. It was within one of these estates where Saige found employment. The Moore family was among the richest in Brevil, often traveling the mortal kingdom or lingering in Yethor. At fifteen, they hired her as a servant.

Their lack of presence was the main reason why she risked taking a job. Most women found occupation in nannying, healing or seamstressing. Such options were too risky for her to manage. Besides, the Moore family paid well for such little work to upkeep their space. She’d water plants, scrub floors, and bake as needed. And most of her time was spent alone.

The final manor on the edge of Denholm greeted her. Two stories and crafted by red bricks, the manor was lined by vibrant flower bushes in the front gardens. Approaching the estate’s looming doors, a tree with looping branches and roots was engraved on the dark wood. Terrus’s sigil.

Despite missing a day of work, there wouldn’t be much to catch up on. The family hadn’t been home for at least a moon cycle, leaving little for her to do. Sometimes she’d wallow in the small library or stare blankly at the ornate walls. But maybe today she’d bake. It often distracted her from whatever pressure sat upon her shoulders. Despite the rations, the Moores would absolutely have some goods hoarded.

Reaching into the pocket of her leather satchel, she wrapped her fingers around the iron key. Before she could push it through the lock, the door swung open.

Lizabeth Moore, the lady of the manor, stood in the entryway, scowling. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, bosom straining against her rigid corset. Dark hair was braided intricately across her head. A set of small legs was spotted between her skirts as her son scurried away.

Despite Judith’s warning, Saige stood frozen. Lizabeth’s single raise of an arched brow reminded her of expectant formalities. She lowered her head in a bow.

“Good morning, Lady Lizabeth.” She hoped Lizabeth didn’t notice the crack in her voice. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

“Where were you yesterday?” she pressed flatly.

“I fell ill after the meeting and—”

Lizabeth waved her hands in the air. “Yes, yes. I already know the news. We’re all damned, aren’t we? Come in, girl.” She turned on her heel, walking quickly into the parlor.

Saige remained rooted, peering from her hands to the open doorway. She was grateful to find the smooth olive skin of her palms instead of the eerie glow.

“Are you coming or are you going to stand there looking daft?”

Biting her lip, she shuffled inside the main hallway. Children’s laughter echoed from upstairs. Lady Lizabeth’s heeled boots echoed as she walked across the carefully weaved rugs and onto the polished wooden floors. Marvelous paintings of Terrus and the sea lining Yethor hung on the walls. She was tempted to scuff her boots against the priceless rug’s fabric below her feet. But there wasn’t a point. She’d be the one scrubbing it off later.

Turning left, Saige walked towards the servant’s stairs. Though the Moore family was often absent, they preferred she used the hallways designated for the help.

Before she could take another step, Lizabeth called out again. “Where are you going?”

“I-I was going to start on the day’s tasks, my lady. I’m already running behind.”

“We need to speak first. Come.” Lizabeth walked towards the sitting room.

Saige kept her hands behind her back as she strode forward. It was uncomfortable following Lizabeth through the manor, weaving through the hallways. Ornamented tables and armoires lined the rooms, polished swords mounted above. It was rare for her employers to acknowledge her unless they absolutely needed something. Whatever Lizabeth wanted now, Saige didn’t think her body could handle much more stress.

By the time she caught up, Lizabeth was already sitting upon a large wooden chair, velvet cushions keeping her comfortable. Saige sat across from her on the matching maroon sectional, smoothing her hands over her dress.

“Well.” Lizabeth cocked her head. “No easy way to say this, but I’m going to have to let you go.”

Saige smiled, her dark brows furrowing. Was this a joke? She debated on pinching herself right then and there. As if it was one of the many nightmares that prevented her from precious undisturbed sleep.

But as Lizabeth continued to look at her, frown deepening with each moment, Saige’s smile faltered.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I-I…did I do something wrong?”

Lizabeth sighed. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were at the meeting yesterday, weren’t you? Things are changing, girl. My family will be staying in the capital where we might live away from all this commotion. The people in Yethor will be well fed and taken care of. ”

Saige didn’t quite understand what she was hearing. “You’re always in the capital.”

Lizabeth’s full lips shrunk into a thin line. “There is no need for hired help, especially not from a stranger.”

The last word came out sharp, sending Saige’s stomach dropping. “You’ve known me since I was fifteen,” she reminded her.

“Yes.” Lizabeth’s face contorted. “But your parents are dead, aren’t they?”

“Judith is my cousin—”