Page 33 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Thirty-Three

Audra

A udra inhaled the familiar scents of cloves and vanilla. The combination roused memories of autumnal festivals, spicy soups, and sweet pies. But there was a newly familiar odor too, a combination of night and rain, that made her feel safe.

She had little desire to break from the moment, noticing the warmth of what her head rested on. It rose and fell gently, both comforting and disconcerting. Her fingers skimmed over fine cloth and silky hair as the steady thrum of a strong heart pulsed beneath the splay of her hand.

She startled and tried to draw away. An arm tightened firmly around her. Moon’s fingers pressed intimately against her ribs. His blue robes covered their entwined bodies, the sheen of his black ones peeked from beneath. His breath dissipated in the cool air of predawn light. A small frown tugged at his lips with her movement.

Above them was a low wooden roof where spiderwebs had thickened over generations. Old burns blackened the walls, marring the beams from the dirt floor upward. The pattern of it scratched at distant memories .

She couldn’t say how long they’d been like this. That neither of them had pulled away was unnerving, and that he continued to hold her was unsettling in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. Audra uncrossed her leg from his thighs and gently lifted his arm away. In response, he rolled toward her. His breath skimmed the top of her head as he draped an arm across her chest. His hair tickled her neck. The thrum of her heart synchronized with his, .

Never in her history of lovers had she slept like this. People were always too warm or moved too much. They snored or didn’t smell good. Moon, it seemed, was different. It could only be the bond that allowed their bodies to conform so smoothly together and kept her from rushing away.

Not Moon. Lua Koray. Moon Oji.

Shit.

It was too easy to remain pressed against his warmth when she knew his heart was cold. This was worse than she’d ever imagined. And she was accomplished at imagining terrible things.

He killed his father, Xiang had said. But she didn’t care about the division of the Moon tribes, didn’t care if they lived or died. Though it seemed odd that something as profound as the death of the Rajav wasn’t more widely known. There’d been gossip about it from the guards on Callaway, but she’d been too busy thinking of ways to escape to pay much attention. And even those on the Requin were tight-lipped about it. Sailors typically gossiped worse than bitter village elders about each other’s children.

The Rajav’s death was being kept quiet until they brought the Oji under control.

Audra studied the sharp line of Lua’s jaw, the twitch of his brow, the way his black hair held pigments of darkest blue and plum. She’d suspected he was someone of status but wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told her who he was or what he was capable of. She felt like a cursed idiot. The truth was, even if she’d known, it wouldn’t have made any difference.

Moon Oji Lua Koray, first in line to inherit the supreme seat of power and his father’s tyrannical legacy. Lua, whose life and death were tied to hers .

She needed stronger curse words.

His rage had been all consuming, devouring everything in its path, terrifying. He hadn’t hesitated to drain the lives of his tribespeople when they threatened her. If she hadn’t begged him to stop, he would have killed them all. But Xiang had spoken of Bolin with sincerity, whatever other lies the man had told her, that much had been true.

She should hate Lua for everything his tribe had done to hers, but her feelings were a jumble of horror, awe, and knowingly misplaced admiration that each vied equally for prominence. Never mind the compelling attraction that was more difficult to deny with each passing day. Those recurring thoughts that she should have refused to pluck him from the water all those weeks ago were fleeting and sour. With a huff, she scurried from beneath his robes into the chilly morning air before he could reclaim her.

Lua’s eyes slit open like an annoyed cat, before closing again. He rolled away, pulling the robe over his head.

“Why didn’t we go back to Auntie’s?” she asked quietly.

His breathing altered but he remained quiet. The bag she’d abandoned in the woods lay on the floor beside the base of the warped central supporting column that held up the remainder of the roof. She eyed the two rows of carvings that ran up opposing sides of the column. One set for Bolin, the other for Audra. But hers stopped too soon.

Time had carved its name on every edge of this place. The back of the home had collapsed, its roof scattered down what had once been a hallway to three bedrooms. A soft wind gently rustled the piles of leaves and twigs. The rounded hearth stones had shifted with the cracking mortar. Returning to this broken home gnawed at unhealed wounds.

“Why are we here?” she whispered.

Lua sighed and rose slowly, rubbing his neck. The burn was gone, nothing remained of Nori’s spell. “You insisted on coming here after we got the bag.”

Audra remembered nothing after they’d leaped from the top of the tower. Leaped? No. They’d flown. But that didn’t seem possible. She pressed fists into her eyes to quell the watering.

“You wanted to come home,” he said softly.

The heat of him moved closer, and she resisted the seductive tug of his proximity. “I don’t remember.”

“Not surprising.”

“Is that something you do?” she asked.

“What?”

“Alter people’s memories? Auntie said that?—”

“No.” Lua snapped. “I don’t. I wouldn’t. There’s too much cruelty in that spell. You were just exhausted.” His voice was pained.

“You killed those people.”

“I’ll kill more if I must.”

“And... Did you kill your father?” Her chest wrenched as his expression soured. “Is altering memories worse than that to you?”

“You wouldn’t understand unless you’ve seen or experienced it.” He assessed her coolly. “Those mages and soldiers were going to kill us if I didn’t kill them first. Their deaths gave us the power to get away and the strength to heal.”

She shook her head. “No. Their leader—Xiang, I think—was going to release me.”

Lua’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why would he do that?”

The bloodstone pressed against her thigh from inside her pocket. She shook her head. “Something about my brother.”

The suspicion dissipated. He looked away and cursed. “I didn’t know.”

“Know?”

“That Bolin was your family,” his voice dropped. “Not until Zin mentioned him.”

He stepped forward and Audra slid back. “Why would you know? I never told you his name. Why would I when you refused to tell me yours?”

“A fair point.” He pursed his lips and had the good sense to look guilty. “Zin knew that Bolin was in the northern tribes. Did she never tell you?”

Hurt bloomed behind Audra’s ribs. Zin was always secretive, and Audra had trusted she kept things from her for good reason. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The omission cut deep and made her wonder what else she didn’t know .

“What do you know of your mother’s relationship with Zin?”

“Why?”

“She told me things about your mother, my family. Things she’d seen.” He moved closer. “And about the bond between us.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. With the events of the previous day still fresh, she’d nearly forgotten her fury. “You still plan to kill me when we reach the monastery?”

He sighed. “No. Not since before the argentava. I’m sure you’ve considered your options since this mess began. Maybe debated handing me over to your Starling friend, hoping to separate us.”

She scowled at his words, but stubbornness wouldn’t let her look away.

He shrugged. “I would have done the same. Perhaps that’s why the magic anchored us together.”

“Why?”

“Survival at all costs is intrinsic to our natures.”

With a sneer she returned her attention to the room. “Pretty sure it’s intrinsic to everyone’s nature. Maybe we’re just better at it than others.” Her fingers danced over the central beam’s etchings before she stared down the fallen hallway.

Wherever she moved, she was acutely aware of the pull to him, like the orbital force of the moons or Raia’s ring around the planet. It was stronger than before, an ache that wanted tending, an itch begging to be scratched. Lua moved with her, staying within a few feet. It was difficult to tell who was anchored to who or whose desire was stronger.

“Is it always like this?” she asked. She could almost feel his breath against her neck, taste his scent on her tongue. Her heart thudded. She hoped she didn’t have to explain.

“No,” he said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. His fingers thrilled her skin through her clothes as he turned her around. “It’s never been like this.”

She stared at his arrogant mouth too long.

“The others... I heard their thoughts, felt their emotions. Bending them to my will was easy. But?—”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking. You never did. What about the rest?” Audra asked .

“I could only control you those first few days. You’ve resisted every time since then,” Lua said. “But I feel all of your emotions.”

His cheeks flushed as hers warmed. “All of them?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes. But I can’t tell what’s yours or mine anymore. It’s damn confusing.” His fingers trailed down her arms before falling away. “Did you know what your mother was?”

“She didn’t hide it from us.”

“And how Western mages bond?”

Lorah had been honest about her mage history, telling them she wouldn’t dwell on her past because it led her to Kaul, their father, and to them. But she refused to discuss more than that, insisting she’d tell Audra more when she was older while only sharing childish tales of lore and warnings hidden in nighttime fables. When Auntie had talked about their past on one of their visits, and hinted at Audra’s future, Lorah quickly bundled Audra and Ferin up and departed. They didn’t go back much after that, not until the night Pangol fell.

Lua retrieved the bag from the floor. “Did you find anything?”

She yanked it from his hands. “Don’t touch those!”

“Can they explain how to unravel the bond?”

“I don’t know; it’s old language. It’ll take some time to decipher.” Audra clutched the bag to her chest.

H e sighed, rubbed his face again. “We don’t have a lot of that. Zin said we’ll both die if we try to break the bond.” Lua stepped back and sat on the floor. “Sit,” he said, “please. I’ll tell you what she told me.”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving? What if they come after us?” she asked.

“They’re too weak to consider it. We can spare a few moments.”

Audra settled across from him but held up a hand before he could speak. “In fairness, I warned you about Zin.”

One eyebrow arched. “And do you think you were completely forthright?”

She shrugged. “It’s not like I could ask if you wanted to meet a hostile dragon hiding in the mountains who’d probably want to kill you.” Her smile was mischievous. “You weren’t listening anyway. I hoped the shock would give you perspective.”

“So, you know what they are?”

“Did you honestly think I was too ignorant to know they weren’t human?” She scowled. “To feel a dragon’s protective magic and know her feral love.” She shook her head. “You really think less of everyone. Your arrogance will get you killed.”

Along their shared thread, Audra felt the sting of her words wound him, but no denial came from his lips. Instead, he took her comments quietly, with more introspection than she thought him capable. That awareness drew her to him but instead she leaned away. Her questions could wait until they were moving again. She cleared her throat. “There’s something missing from here. I’ve searched every time I’ve come back, but with no luck.”

He glanced around at the crumbling facade. “What?”

“Something my mother wore for protection. They were here the night the village fell but they disappeared. This might be my last chance to find them.”

Cautiously, he took her hand and gently squeezed it. “You’ll have more chances, Audra. I promise.”