Page 14 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“I-,” she began. She fumbled with her words, unable to find anything adequate enough to say in response to his display of raw emotion. Frozen and wordless, she opened her mouth to speak, but her father had already taken the cup from her hands with a smile. Paralyzed, she watched as he brought the cup to his lips and drank from it. She took a sip from her own glass and choked down the sweet burn of the alcohol, trying to resist the sudden sting of tears that threatened to well up.

Her father’s eyes dilated slowly, hazy with the effects of the serum. His expression went blank, all thoughts vanishing from his mind like the calm after a storm. He stared at her with an empty gaze, awaiting instruction. The blanket of guilt she had come to adorn grew heavy on her shoulders, but it was too late and far too dangerous to turn back now. She was enchanting the king after all, and the price of such magic was death.

“You will allow me to compete in the Tournament,” she ordered him, following Selussa’s instructions. “I will become a tribute for Elorshin. I will represent the Mer well.” Her father slowly nodded, his eyes still blank and cloudy. A single tear spilled down her cheek as she spoke to him. As much as she had burned with rage and fury the night before, it was painful to deceive him. As an afterthought, she quickly added, “You will not accompany me to the Tournament. You will remain here in Kellam, awaiting my return.” She didn’t know whether or not she’d be able to go through with it under the heat of her father’s gaze. Even if Selussa’s potion worked, she couldn’t risk his presence at the Tournament for her own mental clarity. Saoirse quickly wiped her eyes, straightening in the chair. What was done was done. This was what she wanted, after all.

After a moment of absorption, her father slowly returned. His eyes were bright and clear once more, completely free from the stupor of the Sea Witch’s potion. It was as if he had never been in a trance at all, his features completely aware.

“Saoirse,” he calmly told her, “You must be a tribute for Elorshin.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, fighting the guilt that seeped into her voice.

“Yes. You will bring glory to our people. You have been well-trained for this, daughter. You will win and return with the Crown of Revelore, that much I am sure of. The Elders chose Sune Kresten and Aurelia Eleni as the other two tributes. It is only fair that you should join their team as they set out for the trials. I shall remain here in Kellam, continuing the investigation of the missing merchant ships.” He gently wrapped her hands in his own, pulling her up from the chair. She buried her face in his shoulder, fighting back the urge to cry.

“Last night, I spoke out of fear and selfishness. Now I see that you must do this,” he whispered, gently stroking her head the way he used to when she was a child. “Forgive me for wronging you, Saoirse.”

He pulled back from the embrace and lifted his hands, brows furrowed in concentration. The water around his fingers began to hum with life and tremble as it rallied to his summons. He released a ripple that shot across the room and out across the Maeral Sea, surging with a force that nearly swept her away. Immediately the water felt different, softer and less hostile as it whispered around her. And then all went still.

“You are free to leave,” he assured her, lowering his hands. “The Sea does not cage you any longer.”

Saoirse bowed, the weight of what she had done settling over her with the force of a thousand stones. Her chest felt compressed, her heart thick in her throat. She lifted her head again and met his penetrating gaze. “Thank you, father. I will miss you.”

“Bring us honor, Saoirse,” King Angwin ordered softly. “May glory be given.”

8

ROOK

“You must be quicker than all of them. Mentally and physically,” Raven said. “You can use your swords and wings, but do not forget to use your minds first,” she told them, leaning forward in the candlelight.

Veila was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, writing everything down religiously. She dipped her quill pen back into her pot of ink in a flash, immediately returning to the paper without a break in her writing. Eros leaned back casually in his chair, arms crossed as he processed Raven’s advice with cool resolve. Rook toyed with his dagger and ran a finger around the black, glittering opal at its center.

“My second trial took place in a cave.” Raven shivered at the memory. “We were tasked with finding a key that would unlock the door to the cave. But that was the easy part. What we didn’t know was that to try and use the key, white hot flames burst from the keyhole and seared the flesh of anyone who held the key.”

Rook winced, imagining Raven at only seventeen fighting for her life in that cave. He still remembered watching her from his family’s private box above the arena, her flash of ink-dark hair standing out against the sand. He had only been eight years old at the time, still in his adolescent Squab training days. He hadn’t understood the stakes and political implications of the Tournament then. Back then, he needed Raven to win for selfish, childish reasons: so that she could continue sneaking him out of the palace to fly with him past curfew; so they could sit on the roof and point out the sparkling constellations in the night sky; so that she could make faces at him across the dinner table while their father lectured them on matters of state.

“What we also didn’t know,” Raven continued with a grimace, “was that each time we tried to turn the key and failed, flammable gas would slowly be leaked into the cave, creeping closer and closer to the flames. With enough gas in the air, the entire room would combust. And it did for two groups of tributes: the Tellusun and the Mer.” Her eyes darkened with the gruesome memory. “Only one team knew how to avoid the flames. The Terradrin tributes realized that the cave was made of memordium stone, a kind of living rock that is sensitive to enchantment. There was a pool of water in the cave, deliberately placed there by the Master of Trials. From there, the Terradrin tributes determined that the keyhole would not release a plume of fire if first dampened with water. They were able to unlock the door quickly without being burned. We didn’t know it then, but water was the true key. It was the ultimate tool that would open the rocks for us. And it was right there under our noses.” She looked around at all of them, her eyes full of memory and sorrow. “But that is all in hindsight. We didn’t figure out that the stone had to be dampened with water. I fought through the flames and turned the key, my hands burning. If I had only stopped to think and use the resources at my disposal, one of my teammates would still be alive today. But we were anxious to complete the trial as quickly as possible, believing that blunt force and sheer willpower would get us through to the next trial.”

Rook knew the story well. In the end, one of Raven’s fellow tributes had burned alive in that cave. Raven blamed herself for his death, even after ten years. Every time she looked at the twisted flesh of her hands, she was reminded of that cave. Sometimes, when Raven’s carefully-fortified guard was down, Rook could glimpse the same seventeen year old in her eyes. He had seen the subtle signs of her lingering fear, from the slight twitch in her fingers when a fire came roaring to life in the hearth, to the wide-eyed look she’d get when she felt cornered. But when Raven caught him watching her, she’d harden back into impenetrable stone, any cracks of weakness quickly sealed back up like a tomb.

“Now do you understand why it is best to use your heads before your swords?” Raven asked them, looking each of them in the eyes. “Utilize your mind above anything else. Look around at your surroundings. See what tools are in plain sight. The trials rely half on strength, the other half on wit and mental clarity.”

Everyone nodded soberly, saying nothing. The room was heavy and foreboding, like a storm rumbling on the horizon. Rook looked around the darkened library, resisting the urge to stare at his sister’s mangled hands. He couldn’t imagine how she must’ve felt when the flames tore through the cave and ignited the room behind her. But he would soon find out. There were sure to be horrors in his own upcoming trials. His gut twisted at the thought of losing Eros and Veila, and nausea suddenly churned in his stomach. He hooked his dagger back in its scabbard at his waist, swiftly rising from the table. Following his lead, Eros and Veila rose from their places at the meeting table without a word.

“We’re to dine with Princess Hasana of Tellusun,” Rook murmured, looking over his shoulder at his sister. She didn’t need to ask to be alone; he simply knew. Raven remained seated, completely lost in thought. Haunting shadows played against her face as the candle flame flickered before her. She merely nodded at his comment, barely registering what he had said. It was always like this when she brought up anything relating to her experiences in the Tournament. Rook’s heart broke for her. But he was grateful she would relive her traumas in order to help him. To help save his life.

For his life was what hung in the balance.

Rook led Eros and Veila back through the stone hallway that led to the private library at the heart of the mountain, his mind racing with thoughts of the Tournament. Judging on his friends’ lack of words, he guessed that they too were lost in their own thoughts. Silently, they wove through the intricate labyrinth without speaking. Eventually, sunlight began to brighten the corridors, indicating that they were near the surface of the mountain.

“Well, that was encouraging,” Eros finally said when they reached the throne room of the Citadel. Though it was meant to be a jest, there was no humor in his voice.

“It was helpful, if not a little intimidating,” Veila mumbled, clutching her notes to her chest as wind blew through the open windows of the throne room. “We’ll win, I know it.”

“We must win,” Rook added, crossing his arms and looking out across the city. “We must keep the Crown and the throne of Revelore.” He turned to them, his eyes softening. “And keep our lives, too.”

Eros and Veila nodded in return, coming to join him at the window. Coarinth spread out wide below the palace, beautiful as it always was. Smooth sandstone buildings and levitating breezeways stood proudly against the azure sky, the stunning feats of architecture echoing the creativity and genius of the Aura.

“How much do you think the other tributes know about the trials?” Eros asked, interrupting the silence.

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