Page 50 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Fifty

Lua

L ua left Audra with three attendants who’d been instructed to make her more presentable. Though he’d grown accustomed to her foul vocabulary, the veracity of her curses made the servants flinch. He gently encouraged Audra’s tolerance, reminding her that she had to make a good impression on members of the mage council. Only minor appearance changes, nothing she couldn’t throw off after the coronation and monthlong celebrations in Uduary.

Her sudden lapse into silence worried him, but he’d address her concerns later. All that mattered was they were together. The scent of her lingered in his hair, consuming him. He tasted her on his lips. He debated returning to her, dismissing the servants, and locking the doors behind him. But there were obligations he couldn’t avoid, and they had years before them.

The house of Silence had waited generations for this coronation, and preparations were hastily underway. Fallue leaned against a table while Anjing barked orders at the bustling workers. The younger mage bowed nervously when Lua entered; he’d been trying to strengthen their relationship over the last few years in anticipation—or hope—of becoming the head of the Silence mages when Fallue retired. But Lua suspected that the man might be too easily perturbed to hold the position when it became available.

Workers tested the ceiling’s panels repeatedly, oiling hinges when they caught and inspecting the ropes that would hold them open during the ceremony. They’d arranged the tables in spiral patterns around the center dais where the ceremony would occur. A dozen formal chairs for the joint council members were positioned around the throne on the stage. Lua expected half those would be empty. He frowned when he noticed a chair missing.

Fallue’s cane tapped rhythmically across the floor toward Lua.

“Where’s the Raani’s chair?”

“Can we continue our discussion from yesterday without you becoming emotional?”

Lua swallowed a retort that would have only proved him right. “If you’re going to repeat that I should give her up, you can save your breath. I won’t.”

“And what will happen when the rest of the council arrives? They’ll have better arguments, and you can expect less respect than I have shown,” Fallue said.

“Then we’ll replace them.”

Fallue’s calm demeanor vanished with a huff of outrage. “Oji?”

Anjing, the servants who lingered in the corners, and even the workers above paused at his tone. Lua raised his voice slightly. “Anyone who speaks against my anchor, speaks against me and shall be dealt with as I see fit.”

A murmur spread through the room, low enough to keep the words indistinguishable but loud enough to ensure that they’d heard him. Gossip spread faster than any decree would.

Fallue lowered his voice, leaning close like they’d once done when toiling over the scrolls in the lowest vaults. Back when they appeared the same age. Fallue hadn’t gained his tenth star until much later in life. “The council is made of both tribes equally. You can expect cooperation from Silence, of course, but the Songs will surely balk at this. And the ministers?— ”

“Selene’s anchor is Western. The ground they stand on is mole ridden.”

“Selene is not becoming Rajav. If she were, it would be our council members raising concerns. And rightly so,” Fallue said. “This spits in the face of tradition.”

“Raani Amala wasn’t wholly northern either.”

Fallue looked away. “There was never proof of her heritage either way. As long as she denied it to the council, they couldn’t refuse her. But your Audra Shan.” He shook his head. “I doubt she’ll be as complacent.”

Lua smirked. “No, probably not. So, I suggest the council attempt to adjust their demands and expectations unless they seek an early dismissal.”

Fallue hissed. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like your father.”

Silver lit Lua’s fingertips. “Watch your words, Fallue. Our history doesn’t supersede respect.”

Fallue caught the eyes of a few servants until they scuttled back to their tasks. “Walk with me, Oji. Anjing, carry on.” The mage gave a curt nod as they exited through the door toward Fallue’s office. Two guards walked behind them at a respectful distance.

“I can see that you are already attached to this one, certainly more than with Dain. But this bond is unpredictable. Unstable at best. There are reasons the Western mages kept to themselves. Their magic is difficult to control and, if memory serves me right, so are their mages. And their dragons?—”

“You don’t know that.”

“Listen to reason, Lua. Your father was so convinced of their danger that he spent countless wars wiping them out. And now you’ve brought one home as your anchor, with plans of elevating her to one of the most powerful positions in the country.” Fallue’s voice rose. “Besides, the relationship of anchor is meant to be with those without magic. Protocol and history affirm that two mages bound will only create a power struggle and eventually, someone must lose.”

“How long were my parents anchored? ”

“That’s not?—”

“How long?” Lua demanded.

“One hundred and fifty-three years.”

“An exceptionally long life for an anchor. My father chose Amala for the very reason I choose to keep Audra by my side. If a hint of Western magic could allow the last Raani to live for as long as she did tethered to my father, imagine how long Audra and I will have?” From his rooms above, a soothing sensation shimmied down their thread in response to his heightened emotions.

Fallue shook his head sadly. “But look what it did to Raani Amala. The torment and suffering she endured, so much so that she begged?—”

“I’d never hurt Audra,” he said. “You don’t understand what we have. You don’t know her.”

“And you do? How deeply can you know someone after only a few weeks? We don’t know what she’s capable of. Or what her magic could do. I doubt even she knows.”

They glared at each other while Lua chewed on a response. His words would hold little meaning here. Even though he’d be the Rajav soon, he’d spent a lifetime beneath his father’s control. His single act of rebellion—pledging to the less popular Silence moon—had widened the rift between the tribes. The council wouldn’t trust his judgement, even after he’d helped rid them of their oppressor. But he couldn’t avoid Audra standing before them for scrutiny.

“Will you train her if she’s accepted?”

Fallue rubbed his beard and sighed. “ If she’s accepted.”

L ua stifled a gasp when Audra entered the room. He’d only ever seen her in travel-worn breeches and dusty robes, but the woman who stood before him had transformed into something sleek and dark.

The traditional black tunic had been tailored to accentuate her shape. Thirteen silver stars were sewn down her right sleeve, while the left sleeve was blank. Her robe was black, its glittering interior lining matched his own. Form-fitting breeches were tucked into elegant, tall boots laced to her knees. They’d cut her hair at a sharp angle that followed her jawline, and her skin glowed from the scrubbing she’d endured. Dual kohl stripes painted from above the arch of her eyebrows, down her eyelids, to the middle of her cheeks to symbolize the revered status of Raani and her full lips were stained a deep crimson. Audra looked exactly like Lua had instructed, and he didn’t care how presumptive it was.

She stood before the council’s five men and three women, meeting their scornful gazes one at a time before seeing the look on Lua’s face. Her cheeks flushed.

Fallue cleared his throat. “Audra Shan, you stand before this council, as all potential anchors must, to submit to questions that will determine your compatibility with the role of anchor to the Oji Lua Koray. Do you swear to answer honestly?”

Audra swayed nervously. Lua responded to her quickening pulse by sending a small reassurance toward her. She took a deep breath. “I do.”

He’d prepared her for some of the questions, the ones about her parentage were easy. The council exchanged nervous glances when she spoke of her mother as a Western mage. They’d openly frowned when she recounted her healer father who’d died fighting the Moons in Oxton. That drew questions about her loyalty to the Moon tribe.

“I have no loyalty to the Moon tribe,” she stated flatly. Anjing raised his voice in outcry. Sharine, the head of the Song mages, sneered. The woman’s rich brown hair had auburn hints, her complexion was pale as milk. Audra regarded her casually. “My loyalty is to Lua.”

They quieted at that. Lua smiled. It was the answer he yearned for.

Who did she worship? What was her daily ritual of prayer? Audra had no such rituals or worship. She held nature to the highest regard and hoped to be returned to the ground someday or left for animals to eat, rather than burned at sea like their tribes preferred. Would she consider converting if asked? Her glance at Lua revealed her answer. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d play along if she had to.

What about the rest of her family? She skirted around her aunt and adopted brother, briefly mentioning her older brother, who’d gone missing in the same battle that killed her father. Lua had warned her not to mention Bolin at all. When the questions turned to situational theorizing, Audra held her ground. Some answers struck well, others fell flat.

“Fallue said you are a mage in your own right,” Sharine said. “Do you have control over your magic?”

Her eyes darted to Lua again. A sheen of perspiration dotted her brow, smearing the edges of the kohl as the hours had worn on. “I didn’t think I had much magic until recently.”

Sharine’s smile was tight. “Our mages train at an early age. How is it your magic only just arrived?”

“Maybe because all the Western monasteries were destroyed and our history stolen from us during years of Moon and Starling assault. There wasn’t anyone left to learn from.” Audra’s glare was unflinchingly hard.

Sharine cleared her throat and exchanged uncomfortable glances with several other mages before she spoke. “Historically, Moon mages haven’t been allowed to bond to each other as we deem the connection too volatile. Would you be willing to give up your magic in order to keep the bond?”

Audra frowned, confused. Her eyes found Lua’s. “Is that possible?”

Sharine’s tone was condescending. “Magic can be gifted. Many mages pass theirs on to subordinates when they retire. But it cannot be taken or coerced unless?—”

“Unless someone over ten stars demands it,” Lua said. Audra held his gaze for a long moment before turning back to Sharine. He didn’t want to hear her answer. Lua moved to her side and gripped her hand. “These questions are at an end.”

“Oji, we aren’t done,” Sharine said.

Lua silenced her with a raised hand. “I am stronger with her beside me.” He tugged on their threads, a rope of green and silver swept above the council members’ heads as they gasped. It sliced the wall sconces in half and scorched the stone. The rope spun around the room while encapsulating himself and Audra in a sphere of silver and emerald. Then he added two more spells: a shield before them and a platform beneath their feet that raised them a foot above the ground.

“Audra defended me without hesitation when Selene’s loyalists attacked us after we crossed the river. If she gives up her power, you will say she’s not physically suited for the job, that she’d be a liability and unable to protect me.” He shook his head. “Do not expect me to tolerate these games. Audra will be my Raani, and she won’t give up her magic. Not to you or anyone.”

The council shifted between open hostility and nervousness as the spell lashed inches above their heads. Fallue alone sat unflinching, his expression resigned.

Audra clenched Lua’s hand. “Stop. I can answer their questions.”

His anger surged as he regarded the council members, sitting in their high-backed chairs, dressed in the finest robes with their anchors safely roomed nearby. The former Rajav had allowed most of them to choose their anchors in exchange for favors. But Li-Hun was dead, and no one would dictate who Lua could have anymore.

His magic blazed toward Sharine. She jerked backward, raising a shield before her, but it cracked beneath the ferocious assault. His thread stopped inches shy of her heart and hovered, licking hungrily toward her.

A thin green strand curled around the silver, winding from Audra’s hand to the tip of Lua’s magic. The pleading tone of her voice reached him.

“Stop, please .”

Emerald brilliance surged down Lua’s thread, forcing it to retreat and spiral backward. As her magic sputtered in the air, Audra yanked her hand from his, glaring accusingly. The platform beneath them vanished, and they dropped to their feet.

The council erupted in shouts. A few people looked sick, others nervous, but it was Master Fallue who spoke calmly. “Now we see the power of Western magic.”