Page 13 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Thirteen

Xiang

X iang watched the Song mages raise their arms beneath the moon. Jayna was already eight stars, becoming an Octra was an impressive accomplishment for someone barely into their third decade. Septra Nori was only seven, and he was her senior by over a dozen years. Yet, even if they’d had Verina’s nine-star strength with them, the triad still wouldn’t have been a match for the Oji if he were at his strongest. Everyone was keenly aware of the risks that came with fighting Lua. Seeing the remains of the Mirren had turned those fears to truths.

Stars weren’t necessarily indicative of talent or experience so much as raw magical power, but few mages had ever achieved thirteen. At least that’s what Selene had told him. She was eleven stars, would’ve been more if she’d siphoned the Rajav. But in the end, Bolin had killed her father for her.

Even after all these years being forced to serve it, Xiang still hated magic. It had stolen everything from him during the war: his homeland, his family, and, in a way, his greatest love. If the Moons hadn’t wiped out the Western dragons and their mages, he often wondered what sort of life he and Bolin might have had in their homeland. It was a dream, of course. Their country had fallen long before either of them had been born, but he’d used those dreams to get him through the nightmares of their reality.

Thinking of Bolin only brought longing, which was useless. Instead, he studied Galia. She stood on the bow, her eyes returning repeatedly to Jayna. Their affection brought discomfort. It was sweetness doomed, like when worms bred beneath the skin of fruit back home. Galia was too much like himself and Jayna too much like Bolin. Equally stubborn in their affection.

Jayna would hit ten stars in another ten years, and that would be the end of their love. Every ten star needed an anchor, and all anchors were chosen by the Mage Council to ensure the strongest life force and physical strength. It was the best way to guarantee longevity. And though anchors were the force behind an advanced mage’s strength, they were ultimately viewed as expendable as their mages’ power progressed. When compromised, a mage always sacrificed their anchor to save themselves. It left them weak for months, no matter how strong the new anchor was. There wasn’t room for love or attachment unless it grew afterward. Jayna and Galia had to know this.

Inside his cabin, he stripped his armor, thinking of the men on the Requin , their dirty lives snuffed in a blaze of fire and screams. He envied them in a way that slumped his chest. He patted the small vials of liger’s bane secured in his vest pocket. Someday, when he could stand no more, he’d fall into death’s arms. Maybe he’d take Selene with him, but that would kill Bolin as well.

He pulled out the blade that Bolin had given him after they’d first met and settled the small mirror on the desk.

Although Xiang had only a trace of magic to speak of, Lua had taught him this simple trick many years ago—before he understood the Oji’s motivations better. It was the only spell Xiang had ever succeeded with, maybe because the reward was so valuable.

The knife sliced his forearm as he repeated a short mantra. A thin stream of blood rose from the broken skin. Bolin greeted him from the mirror, flecks of lighter tones catching the light in his brown eyes; his broad smile lit the room. Dark brown hair framed his square jaw. It had grown long again. It always grew too fast.

His mouth moved, but sound didn’t travel through the image. With paper priced too high for anything other than administrative necessities, they’d learned to communicate with rough gestures and signs. Sometimes it left them wondering what the other meant from hundreds of miles away. It was enough to see Bolin safe and healthy in Uduary. It was enough, because it had to be.

Bolin’s smile faded, replaced by worry. Xiang offered reassurance. He told him he loved him. Bolin nodded, mouthing the same words. Xiang wanted to tell him they were nearing the Western shores, that he could see the Shei-nam mountains in the distance, that they were still lavender beneath the Starling light. But he couldn’t. It would have to wait until he returned home. Xiang would beg Selene to let him see Bolin. She’d relent if Xiang came back with her brother in tow. But if he didn’t, well, punishment came in different flavors, and she liked for him to taste them all.

They had to reach Lua before he used his new anchor. She was an odd choice, surely born out of necessity. A thief and woman slender enough to pass as a boy was well below any mage’s standards. Anchors were supposed to be robust, strong enough to defend their mage from physical assault while being used as a source for their magic. But the standards for the Moon Oji had always been higher.

Lua must have been nearly dead when the Requin found him. It was safe to assume the thief and Oji were anchored, given the circumstances, though it was unusual to find someone willing outside of the Moon tribes. That they’d bonded without the traditional rituals was even more curious. Xiang knew of only one other time that happened, but there may have been others that he was ignorant of.

Bolin’s wide grin demanded attention. Xiang pressed his fingers to his lips before raising them and offering an easy smile. The image faded before Bolin could reply.

A fresh scab sealed the cut. Xiang traced the dozens of scars that lined his arm. He’d bleed a new place tomorrow, and another the night after. Forever, until they were together again or one of them died. He stared at the blank mirror for another moment before a shout above pulled him back to the deck.