Page 25 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Twenty-Five

Lu a

T he horse jerked its head again and dragged Lua’s naked wrist from his sleeve into the midday light. He cursed. His flesh had burned tender-pink from the repeated exposure, and he was beginning to question the beast’s value.

Between the horse and Audra’s incessant warnings about her aunt, the journey was taking its toll. There was an unflinching edge to her voice that, combined with her emotional fluctuations, grated on Lua’s thinning patience. Aside from the effect these people might have on their combined energy and health, he didn’t care about them at all. Audra quieted blissfully. He sighed with relief.

And then she started again.

The verbal barrage set his teeth on edge and left little space to process what kept happening between them when they slept. He’d disentangled himself before she stirred each time. No matter how serene the moment in her arms had been, Lua wasn’t one to take advantage of his anchors. And he didn’t want her to misinterpret what had happened. He still wasn’t sure.

The horse jerked his arm into the light again, and Lua snapped, cutting Audra’s words off. “Maybe they should be careful. Surely, you understand?—”

She turned on him so quickly he stopped mid-step. The horse tossed his head, forcing Lua’s wrist from his sleeve again. He ignored the burn, eyes fixed on the dagger pressed against the pulse of her throat. Cold fury swept toward him. Blood broke through her flesh and trickled down to her collar, the same wound suddenly marring his neck. He held his breath.

“You even think of hurting them, and I’ll kill us both.” She held his gaze, sliding the blade across her skin until Lua winced. With a look of satisfaction, Audra cursed at him so fiercely he nearly blushed. Then she turned and moved steadily down the path.

Lua wanted to say he could stop her from hurting herself if he wished to, but his mouth wasn’t so foolish. Maybe the jade would protect her or, more likely, she’d cut their throats just to prove her point. But perhaps she’d already made it.

Beneath the shade of his hat, Lua watched the steadiness of Audra’s steps. The line of her shoulders. The cut of her jawline when she turned slightly. She had the beauty of wild things. Fierce and indomitable. Her anger diffused over the course of the next hour, replaced by familiar resentment.

He considered that he’d be rid of her when they reached the monastery and then be bound to someone steadier. Maybe Quin, he’d proven himself to be the essence of dedication and loyalty. But thinking of Audra’s death made his breath hitch.

He rubbed the blood from his neck, mildly sorry for provoking her. They’d have to tolerate each other’s tempers a bit longer. He sent a little magic down their thread. Audra startled, rubbing her throat as it healed. She didn’t acknowledge what he’d done, but her shoulders softened.

The air grew subtly stagnant as they hiked between shrubs and pines, stripping his sense of magic. Something powerful protected this land.

Audra could be leading him into a trap, but her emotions held true; and though she was a skilled liar, he doubted that deception extended to herself.

She scrambled atop a boulder and pointed down the side of the mountain. A wide grin spread across her face as Starling lit auburn hints in her dark hair. It must have been her emotions that suddenly quickened his heart. He stared at her with a sudden realization.

No matter what their futures held, he’d never let anyone hurt her. There had to be another way.

“We’re here.” She jumped down from the rock. “I’ll go first. Auntie doesn’t?—”

“Take well to strangers.” He finished for her. “So you’ve told me a thousand times today.”

“Didn’t think you were listening.” She scurried down the slope toward a modest house set inside an adjacent hill. The wood construction tilted, reinforced on one side by large stones similar to the ones that littered the surrounding landscape. The east-facing door allowed Starling to shine through the house for much of the day. There was a fenced area with a half dozen goats and chickens clustered together. There were two barns, one huge, the other modest. The few animals didn’t justify the size of either structure.

A woman’s thick frame filled the home’s doorway. Her gaze skimmed across Lua’s skin as he coaxed the horse forward. The air tingled with the same anticipation that precedes lightning, skittering down his neck and putting him on guard. Something about her whispered of his father’s musings. The Western mages were devious, dangerous. He studied her silver-streaked hair, broad shoulders, and hostile emerald gaze. If this woman were a mage at all, this wasn’t the elder auntie he’d expected.

Audra disappeared in her arms. Though she appeared middle-aged, her skin was smooth and lacked the cracked, dull complexion typically earned from living in the mountains.

Audra clutched Zin’s hand as Lua neared. “This is Chon. He helped me escape from Callaway.”

Lua was prepared for the lies this time, but something told him this auntie would not be so easily deceived.

Zin sighed heavily. “You should have abandoned him before now.” She scowled at Audra. “Remember what happened with your last lover? ”

“It’s not like that.” Audra’s voice dropped, cheeks flushing with mortification.

“It better not be,” Zin warned. Her gaze raked over Lua, pausing temporarily at his neck, then Audra’s. “Settle the horse and wash up. No hats in the house.”

“Auntie...” Audra’s words trailed away at Zin’s withering look. Grabbing Lua’s elbow, Audra twirled him toward the smaller barn. “She’ll warm up. It just takes her a little while.”

He doubted that was true. There was knowledge in her eyes, and Lua suspected she’d confront him when the time was right. Audra opened the gate and scratched the goats’ heads as Lua pulled on the reins and drew the horse inside the enclosure. She settled the horse in a stall while he cautiously retreated from any approaching animals.

He cleared his throat. “What happened to your last lover?” He didn’t care, but he was curious.

A hiss whistled between her teeth. “Nothing that concerns you.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. They both froze as energy swirled and tightened between them. “Anything that concerns you concerns me.” The words were in the air before he could taste them. Though they weren’t exactly as he intended, they held uncomfortable truth.

Audra shrugged. His hand fell away. “I met Kip after Traq enlisted. She was also a bit of a thief. More than a bit, actually. Downright devious to be honest. But she was fun at a time when I’d forgotten how to laugh. We’d been together for a few months. Done a few jobs before we came here. I’d believed what she said to me.” She shook her head. “One morning she was gone. Took everything I’d saved and stole some of Auntie’s goods as well. Zin hasn’t forgiven me for bringing her here.”

“Have you had many?”

“Lovers?”

He regretted the question. None of his business. It didn’t matter.

She smoothed down the horse’s mane. “A few. You?” There was no shame in her voice.

“Not as many as I’d have liked.” Damn his mouth, not what he’d meant to say either. But her laughter was contagious, settling in his chest until they entered the house.

Steady flames danced in the fireplace. Zin had drawn the curtains against the light and stood at the small stove beside the hearth, stirring a large pot. Scents of onions and peppers made Lua’s eyes burn as he tugged the hat from his head.

“It’ll be ready soon. Audra, go tend your brother, he’s been waiting for you,” Zin said, not turning around. “Your friend can stay with me.”

Audra gave Lua an apologetic look before disappearing down the hall toward a doorway at the end. Magic flickered across Lua’s arms, not strong enough to be a threat, but enough to get his attention.

Zin motioned him toward the stove. “I won’t bite.”

He swallowed a retort but moved closer all the same. She was several inches taller than him, with broad shoulders. Her skin was so smooth she might have been forty or four hundred, like his father.

She shoved the spoon at him. “Stir. I don’t trust you to chop vegetables since I doubt you’ve many common skills.”

Her tone was like the one he used when speaking to those deemed inferior. He ground his teeth but carefully avoided touching her when he took the spoon. She stood beside him, placing a white vegetable with green leaves upon a cutting board. The sound of the knife slicing succinctly through the stalks made a threatening impression that he took to be intentional.

“Does she know what you are?” she asked.

Lua always relied on his status and power to protect him when magic wasn’t an option. Rather than lie, he opted for silence thinking it held more weight.

“How many have you had before her?” Zin asked, her husky voice low.

He startled, tried to step away, but another’s magic held him in place. Breaking it would have required pulling on Audra.

The knife crunched through the vegetable again. Zin’s tone was dagger sharp. “Don’t toy with me, Moon mage. How many anchors have you had before?”

He was neither relieved nor comforted by her clarification. Instead, he continued to stir the contents of her copper pot. Sweat dotted his brow. Though the seduction of a lie tempted him, he chose truth. “Four.”

The knife sliced again. “All dead, I’m sure.” When Lua didn’t reply, she continued, “How many stars are you? I want to know what we are dealing with.”

The dawning threat of her, what she was, what she might be capable of, chilled him despite the heat. Her enormous presence engulfed the space, swirled around him and thickened the air. There wasn’t any point in fighting her. In his weakened state, she’d easily overpower him, but neither of them would risk hurting Audra.

“Thirteen.”

She scraped the refuse into a small bucket before adding the vegetables to the pot. Her face was close to his, breath like the steam that sometimes rose from the poisoned river. “Why Audra?”

He swallowed. His arm burned from the constant stirring, but he couldn’t stop. “There wasn’t a choice, believe me. The magic lashed out when she saved me. There weren’t any rituals or agreements, it just happened.”

Zin’s jaw clenched. She grabbed another vegetable and chopped it murderously.

“How did you know?” He glanced at her. Most mages couldn’t see the bond. It was a subtle, intimate thread usually only revealed during battles and was difficult, but not impossible, to trace.

She sneered. “It was shining in the air before you both came down the hill. It’s just one of the reasons your leaders wanted us killed. Don’t you know your own history?” Her eyes met his. “Or did you only learn what they told you?”

He bristled at the truth of her words. “We don’t have a lot of texts about …” He let the sentence trail away, wondering why Audra was taking so long.

“I suppose you wouldn’t. Li-Hun probably destroyed or hid everything over the last few hundred years.” The blade came down again. “Silence, eh?”

With instinctive magic, he dropped the spoon. The handle slid down the inside of the pot before disappearing beneath the stew. Lua stared at her. Most of his own tribespeople couldn’t see the difference in magic unless they saw the sigils on the robes or the color of the magic they cast. But the Silence sigil was hidden beneath the blue robes. She shouldn’t have been able to tell .

Her smile was grim. She scraped the orange stalk into the pot. “I spent a lot of time with the Moons in my younger years.” With a flick of her wrist, the spoon emerged from the pot, steam rising from the handle. Zin grasped it without flinching and wiped it on her apron. She held it out to him and leaned against the counter. “You’ve outlived four anchors. How many died of the siphon. Two?” She studied him as she asked. “Three? Four?”

A subtle squint gave him away.

“Three then,” she said. “I won’t ask what happened to the fourth. I don’t care.” Her voice lowered as footsteps lumbered down the hall toward them. “You’ve known too many years, and Audra should have many more before her. Preferably without you. What will you do about the bond? Because I will burn your tribes to the ground if any harm comes to her.”

Her eyes flashed emerald. Energy whipped around the room and pulled Lua’s hair from beneath his robes. It squeezed the breath from his lungs before he could react.

Zin’s spell released as Audra rounded the corner with a tall, lanky boy draped around her shoulders. Their smiles were similar in shape, but his eyes were green, like their aunt’s. A sinking understanding swept over Lua.

Zin wasn’t her aunt.

Ferin’s grin broadened when he saw Lua. He lurched forward with open, welcoming arms, as if greeting an old friend. Lua shuffled backward but the boy was too fast.

“No!” Lua’s magic reached out; all attempts to contain it failed as Ferin wrapped hot limbs around him. Silver slicked over the boy’s hard skin, sliding away from him and swirling safely back into Lua’s arms. The boy laughed without sound.

Audra gently pried them apart. Lua looked from the boy to Audra before meeting Zin’s eyes.

“This is Ferin. My brother,” Audra said, smiling and running a hand down the boy’s arm. Not a boy.

This was all magic and lies.

Lua released a shaking breath. Zin’s magic transformed them both to what Lua was meant to see. Audra’s home was a den, and her family was made of dragons.