Page 35 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“Enough, Osirus.” My father cuts him off, but I’ve goaded the old councilman too far, he can’t help but keep going.
“—us to feel comfortable with the fact that if something happens to Nox, we are left with someone who has no magic of her own to protect the kingdom with. Our history dictates that rulers are chosen by the strength of their magi—”
“Osirus,” my father interjects, voice cold and lethal from where he stands, placing his hands on the table. The energy in the room becomes ominous, palpable to every person within it. Nearly all of the men on the council shift uncomfortably in their seats, but the two older female members remain motionless, small smiles curling their lips. “Let’s first start with the fact that you are wrong about previous rulers being chosen by their magic. They were chosen when their souls were deemed worthy.Thenthe magic shifted to them from the current ruler, who wasalsochosen because of their worthiness.”
The ancient texts we have on Void Magic rulers dictate that when a descendant of the Void line was found worthy, their flame would turn blue during their ceremony. I’ve always found it odd that the texts left out how that worthiness was determined. The child chosen would have common raw mage magic like everyone else, but when they reached the age of sixteen, the life and death magic of the Void would transfer to them from the current ruler. Together, both would rule, until the next-in-line reached the age of twenty-two and officially took the throne.
“Secondly,” my father continues, “I absolutely can—and will—expect you to bow before Bahira, should she ever be named queen. If that is going to be a problem for you, Osirus, then I will have no choice but to remove you from this council.”
I keep my posture steady, spine straight and head raised, so that—on the outside—I appear calm and collected. On the inside though, my mind is chaotic from my father’s words. He has never, ever threatened anyone on this council before for disagreeing with him. In fact, he’s always chosen people that have varying ideas and opinions—a necessity, he claims, to running a well-balanced kingdom.
“The fact of the matter is that my son, your crown prince and Bahira’s brother, is in a foreign kingdom to figure out why we felt such a strong presence of magic there and why we continue to feel it in waves now,” my father says, pushing back from the table and folding his arms over his chest. His magic, a light purple in color, pulses around him as he looms over everyone else.
“Disregarding everything about your daughter becoming ruler, which is currently a moot point considering Nox is alive,” Councilman Kallin says, eyeing Osirus down the length of the table before looking back at his king, “we still should consider the possibility that we may need allies should Nox find something thatcouldbe used against us. We may need to reveal our long-guarded secret.”
My father stares at him for a few seconds before jerking his head in a small nod. “It is something I have been considering already, Councilman Kallin.”
My head swings to look at him, the surprise surely showing on my face. The other members start talking in low voices to each other, but my eyes are locked on to my father’s. Noting my shock, he leans towards me and speaks in a low voice,
“It will depend on what Nox discovers that is emitting such powerful magic that we can feel it even here. It might be something to bring down the Spell or break through it. And with what Nox has reported regarding the size of their army…” He trails off, shaking his head. “We would not have enough magic to protect us, should they try to attack.”
I lean back against my chair soundly, my self-composure crumbling under the weight of what’s just been revealed. We are talking about war. A war between realms that shouldn’t even be possible. The pressure to figure out what is blocking our magic doubles in an instant.
After the revelation that war might be a real possibility, I need to get my mind off of everything. I worry daily about Nox being so far from home and surrounded by people who might kill him if they find out who—orwhat—he is. I worry about finding a fix for the declining magic that is our people’s very soul. I also selfishly worry about who I will be if I never find my missing magic at all—if I never become whole. But now is not the time for those thoughts.
No, as I climb up the hill that leads to our training grounds, the only thing my mind is focused on is Gosston. The late afternoon sun shines on the open landscape dotted with hills and small ponds. In the distance, younger mages practice wielding their magic. Tree branches and rocks lift into the air, glowing lightly in a variety of colors. Water gleams a muted red as it spins like a cyclone above a pond, a mage nearby standing with his eyes closed and hand extended out. When I crest the top of the hill, the land flattens back out and I see a group of men and women sparring together. Standing off to the side—his muscled torso gleaming with sweat—is Gosston. He’s only a little taller than I am, but he’s much wider, his arms and shoulders thick with strength. He already looks fatigued, most likely from sparring most of the day. Pity for him. My steps are sure, my grip on my spear tight, as I stalk to Gosston like a forest tiger hunting a gazelle.
“Hey, Bahira, do you want to spar?” I hear Daje ask a little too loudly as he begins to walk towards me.
“Sorry, Daje,” I respond, my voice low. “I already have a sparring partner in mind.” Daje comes to my side, matching my steps as he follows my line of sight.
“Bahira, don’t do this,” he warns as his hand stretches out to grip my arm, but I quickly step out of his reach. Ignoring his protests, I continue walking until I’m just a few feet in front of Gosston.
“Hello, Gosston.” I twirl my spear until it’s in front me, the tip pointing directly at his heart. “Let’s spar.”
He gives me an incredulous look before stepping back and releasing a scoff. “I think I’ll pass, Bahira,” he chides, moving to get around me.
My spear snaps out, the side of it stopping a hair’s breadth in front of him. The air crackles with anticipation, like an impending maelstrom of violence while I smirk bitterly at him. “What’s the matter? Afraid that I’ll beat you in front of all your friends?”
He laughs, though the sound is shaky. “I’m not going to spar with you.”
“No, you’ll just run your mouth and expect me to not do anything about it,” I say, dropping my weapon slowly to my side as I step in front of him. His eyes narrow in my direction, his muscles beginning to tense. “Pick up your sword.”
“I’m not sparring with you,” he repeats, frustration causing tight lines to form at the corner of his mouth.
“Pick up,” I growl the words this time through my teeth, “your sword.” More people start gathering around us, forming a semi-circle in the grass. I know I should probably care about creating a spectacle, about how it will lookpolitically,but everything around me fades to a blurry haze except for Gosston, whose annoying face is the center of my building fury. He folds his arms over his chest, making no move to unsheathe his weapon.
“Bahira, there are other ways we can let out your frustration,” he jeers, licking his lips as he eyes me over with zero regard. “Let me take care of you. You already know it’s—”
“Quick?” I interrupt, my eyes and smile daring him to act. “I know it’s quick—and terribly unsatisfying. Just like how this littlesparring matchwill be.”
He scowls, a blush beginning to stain his cheeks. “Fine,” he snarls, bending over to unsheathe his sword from where it lays. “I’ll spar with you. But just remember, it was yourcrazyass that asked for this.”
Someone—perhaps Haylee—starts cursing under her breath. I have been called many things, butcrazyis one that perhaps bothers me the most. That one word changes everyone’s perception of me and demeans and discredits everything I am working for. It’s a cheap way for those who lack the intelligence to see beyond what’s right in front of them to try and bring me down. I inhale deeply, honing in on my surroundings to help me focus. I feel the warmth of the sun above and the tickling of the pillow grass beneath my feet.
Challenging someone to fight isn’t the mage way of handling disagreements, but when was the last time any of them treated me as mage anyway? I’ve had to navigate my role in this kingdom as the only one of mykind.No, violence certainly isn’t the mage way, but it is absolutelymyway.
Gosston lifts his sword as we begin to circle one another, his face contorting into a confused snarl. “You have to know I was justjokingwhen I said you cry about being magicless. It’s not like it is asensitive subjector anything.”
