Page 10 of Mistake of Magic
“It’s time to go,” River said, more roughly than he’d intended. He turned and reached for the chamber’s large door. The sooner they walked in there, the sooner they could leave.
The Elders Council chamber was undeniably grand, a circular room lined with tall, arched windows and covered in a series of vibrant murals depicting the fae leaving Mors and creating Lunos. Golden trim lined each window and the edge of the domed ceiling, which rose to a small circular skylight two stories above. A single table on a raised dais in the center was carefully positioned to bathe the elders in the rays of sunlight flowing through the windows. It was an impressive set-up designed to project an image of divine power, but River had been here often enough to know that the elders rotated the table as the sun traveled across the sky, the radiant light little more than a well-made calculation.
Like Klarissa, the others wore voluminous silk robes, each in his own color. Blood red, deep green, sapphire blue, and—for the head elder and quint commander, sitting in the center chair—midnight black. The elders’ silhouettes cast long shadows along the floor, stretching over the marked line where solicitors were to stand. The most powerful quint in Lunos. And, until now, the only mixed-gender one.
Stepping up to the well-worn line, River spread his feet shoulder-width apart, bowing his head respectfully while the others fell into line beside him, Shade and Tye flanking Leralynn. The girl was most comfortable with the shifters, who were healthier for her than River could ever be. As he watched, Leralynn’s eyes narrowed on the elders’ shadows, then slipped along the floor in search of something—marks of wear, most likely. So she’d figured out the light trick already. Smart girl.
“The meeting of the Elders Council of the Citadel will come to order,” said the tall black-robed male in the raised middle seat, his voice booming off the domed ceiling. The silver hair hanging loose to the male’s shoulders concealed part of a jagged scar that narrowly missed his right eye. He gripped a palm-sized stone sphere and struck it against a carved wooden cradle on the table before him. That thud, too, echoed. “I am Elder Beynoir, the head of the council. With me are Elders Vallyann, Klarissa, Hairan, and Elidyr. Standing before the dais are River of Slait, Shade of Flurry, Tye of Blaze, Coal, and a mortal female.”
“Leralynn,” the girl said suddenly, flinching as the marble dome amplified her voice.
Tye—who bloody well should have known to keep his mouth shut—snorted softly.
“Your pardon?” Beynoir frowned down at her, as if surprised to discover that the mortal had the power of speech. In his defense, most immortals tended to lose said power upon walking into this chamber and grasping the council’s power over them.
“My name, sir.” This time, at least, Leralynn bowed. “It seems more efficient to call me Leralynn, rather than ‘that mortal female’over and over again.”
Elder Elidyr, sitting in his green robe at the opposite end of the table from Klarissa, suppressed a smile. With a lively oval face and thick brown hair plaited down the back of his neck, Elidyr had always been more comfortable sitting in a saddle than a chair, and he was the one council elder whose support and fairness River could count on absolutely. But Elidyr was only one of five.
Beynoir shifted in his seat, his black robes rippling in stark contrast to his light hair. “Yes, thank you.” His voice rose. “I understand that you five have come to request assistance in severing the tether between the fae and the mortal—Leralynn.” Beynoir paused to incline his head at her. “Such that Leralynn might return to the safety of the mortal lands while the fae remain able to reclaim the full power of their quint.”
In the corner of his eye, River saw Leralynn’s mouth open and shot her a warning glance that she, by some miracle of the stars, obeyed. “I fear you’ve been misinformed, Elder Beynoir,” River said crisply into the silence. “The magic has chosen a fifth warrior to complete my quint. We come before the council not to shatter the bond, but to renew our oath.” He paused, carefully keeping his gaze on Beynoir alone. “We informed Elder Klarissa of this a week ago.”
Beynoir frowned. “Klarissa?”
The female waved a slender hand, her champagne diamond flashing on her finger. “I little wished to prejudice you against them in hopes that common sense, duty, and safety would have prevailed before they arrived here. It appears, however, that I’ve given these five more credit than they are due.”
Beynoir’s brows narrowed at River, his hooked nose dominating his scarred face. “A mistake of magic has been made. Am I to understand that instead of correcting it, you wish to follow this error to its inevitable chaotic end and pledge a quint’s oath with the bonded human?”
“Yes, sir,” River said.
“Ridiculous.” Klarissa’s gaze focused on her nails. “A mortal cannot complete a quint. It is fortunate the council is here to intervene when young males think with organs other than their brains, Elder Beynoir.”
“If the council intervened every time a male’s cock got in the way of common sense, we’d have no time for anything else, Klarissa,” Elidyr said from the opposite side of the table, thoughts already racing in his intelligent eyes. “And I recall much the same once being said of us, for our mixed-gender bond. I’ll say now what I said then—themagicchooses the quints, not the council.”
“We are all fae, Elidyr,” Klarissa said. “This girl is human. It is absurd to pit her against Mors, and I submit that the council cannot set a precedent for absurdity.”
Elidyr opened his wide palms, his thick braid swaying as he turned to address the head elder directly. “The wisdom of the quint’s request is immaterial. The bond cannot be severed without the consent of all five quint members, unless one of them faces imminent death. I thus see little point in this discussion.”
“On the contrary”—Klarissa raised her chin, flashing a triumphant glance at River—“if these beings insist on tying themselves to a mortal, they can go to the mortal lands with her.”
“Enough.” Beynoir knocked the stone sphere against its wooden cradle, quieting the room. Seconds passed as the elder gazed down at the quint, tracing his scar with one long finger, each heartbeat tightening his jaw further. “I agree with Klarissa,” he said finally, the words echoing in the silence. “Pitting a mortal against the qoru will unduly endanger her and Lunos both. You five are playing into an accident, and that is not something I will condone.”
Ice rushed down River’s spine. “Sir—”
Beynoir raised a hand. “I may be unable to force you to sever the bond, but I need not make accommodations for you, either. You may, as Klarissa suggested, leave the Citadel’s neutral lands. Otherwise, you will be required to enter the Citadel as a new quint, and shall be treated as such.”
For the first time since walking into the chamber, River’s voice faltered. “You would have us start over as a new quint, sir?” he asked. “As first-trial initiates? After three hundred years of experience?”
“You have no years of experience being bonded to a mortal, River,” Beynoir snapped. “Other re-bonded quints are granted their former status as a matter of courtesy, not law. If you would like to remain in Lunos, you willallsubmit to the Citadel’s rules. Bare your skin to receive the trial runes, or leave Lunos. Those are your choices.”
Behind River’s back, his grip on his own wrist tightened so hard, his hand fell asleep. He and the other fae could face the trials again, weather the humiliations poured onto initiates, fight their way out before Klarissa’s training succeeded in ending one of their lives. But Leralynn.Stars.It wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth putting her through that. Turning to the girl, River shook his head.
Leralynn watched him for a moment, her beautiful brown eyes filled with warmth—and apology. Before River could move to stop her, she raised her face, turning directly to Beynoir. “Where do the runes go, sir? I’m ready to receive them, but I could use some instruction.”
7
Lera
