Page 2 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“Are you hurt?” Sune’s voice called as he swam after her, finally seeming to notice the huge gash in her arm. “How did you manage to survive Kaja? Hel’s teeth, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Captain Sune,” Saoirse spat as she spun around. “I am safe. No need to play the part of coddling soldier with me.” She turned to him and glared, her dark curls rising around her in a plume. “You will not stop me from submitting my name into the tributary. No one can.”

Sune tried to argue, but she dove away before he had the chance to scold her further. She summoned a blast of water to push her forward, and a surge of waves obediently swelled around her. The sea whisked her toward the city, leaving Sune and his regiment far behind. Sune’s protesting voice grew distant, his voice quickly replaced by the peaceful, churning silence of the Maeral Sea. Shafts of sunlight cut through the choppy waves, spilling through the shallow waters and warming her skin like a promise.

In the distance, the soft glow of Kellam Keep beckoned to her. Her place in the Revelore Tournament was as good as guaranteed with what she had just managed to pull off. She didn’t know what her father would think of what she’d done. But she wouldn’t see him until nightfall, when the tributary ceremony would begin at the amphitheater. She banished him from her mind, refusing to worry about his response until the time came. She continued swimming toward Kellam, a satisfied smile unfurling on her lips.

She had really done it.

2

ROOK

Rook wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing away strands of damp hair from his forehead. He lifted his sword once more, facing Eros across the pavilion. He lunged, unfurling his wings as he swung at his opponent from above. Eros blocked his sword and their blades rang out across the sandstone courtyard. Rook altered the angle of his blade, swiping up and knocking the glittering weapon from Eros’s hands. Eros’s blade clattered unceremoniously on the stone, signalling his defeat. Rook spun away, his wings catching an upward draft of wind. It was a glorious day, the azure sky cloudless and clear.

“That’s enough for, now,” Eros called from below, grinning up at him. “You’ve proved your point, princeling.”

“I said I would best you,” Rook called down to his old friend. “Besides, we should save our energy for tonight.”

“Indeed,” Eros called up to him, sheathing his sword. “When should I expect you back?” he asked, scanning the expression on Rook’s face.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Rook called down, his wings pumping upward through the brilliant sky. He grinned as the sun warmed his skin and the wind tousled his hair, his heart soaring as high as his body was. His loose tunic billowed in the wind, sending cool whispers of air across his skin.

Rook climbed higher, shooting passed birds and tendrils of pale pink clouds. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being weightless in the heavens. He breathed in deeply as he held his position in the air, floating above it all without a care in the world. Fresh air filled his lungs, smelling of spring water and lavender. If he continued to fly higher, he knew it would grow cold, snowflakes soon clinging to his dark lashes and stinging his cheeks. But here, the weather was magnificent and golden.

Rook opened his eyes again and hovered in one place, looking across the vast kingdom unfurling beneath him. His heart swelled with pride as his gaze swept over the stunning city of Coarinth. His eyes roved over the smooth, sloping architecture that proudly shone from the highest mountain in all of Revelore, cut into the cliffs themselves. Several other Aerials flew through the city, dodging buildings and weaving through archways as gracefully as doves. From up here, they were tiny specks that flew in and out of view.

His gaze traveled down the twisting roads of Mt. Thalia that spilled from the city, following the undulating green hills dotted with wildflowers at the mountain’s base. He drank in the powerful, churning river that ran down from the mountain, cutting through clusters of trees and rocks like a great serpent. His eyes traced the roads that cut through the craggy cliffs of the mountain, weaving up the bluffs in a dance only known to those who dwelled there.

He left his vantage point, soaring over the rolling hills at the base of the mountain and flying over the great expanse of land that stretched beyond. An endless sweep of woodlands fanned out across Aurandel, carpeting the earth in a sea of green. The roaring Adonis River churned through the woods with white-foamed rapids, flowing down from Mt. Thalia like an the unbound hair of a maiden. The land was barely inhabited down here, mostly home to wildlife and nomads. For the people of the sky, to live on flat earth was nearly unthinkable.

Rook looked down, watching as his shadow passed over the earth in a flash. He spun in the air, twisting through the clouds with a flourish. Years of intense Aerial training had paid off. His body was one with the sky and air, fluid as a leaf on the wind. He didn’t think as he flew, simply absorbing the sunlight and crisp breeze that flowed over his skin like silk.

He caught an incoming breeze, hot and humid. He stilled in midair, detecting hints of salty ocean wind and the brackish tang of sea brine. Distantly, he squinted at the thin coastline at the edge of his kingdom, merely a streak on the horizon. Hatred flared in his chest, his mood souring as he stared at that distant stretch of white sand. He would do anything to be rid of that view. The Sea glared at him, the unending waves of green and blue shifting like a great hungry beast. Where the Aura drifted through the clear skies of Revelore, the Mer swam in the murky depths of the Maeral Sea. Rook turned away from the ugly smear on the horizon, despising the briny air that drifted inland.

Mer, he thought with a smirk. He didn’t know why they were still invited to the Revelore Tournament year after year. After the rift that had exploded between their two nations a hundred years ago, his ancestors should have banished them from taking part long ago. Moreover, the Mer were cunning, greedy, and obsessed with shining trinkets. But a part of him was glad they showed their scaly faces on the continent. The Tournament offered Aurandel a chance to solidify its superiority over the Mer in a public display of bloodshed. For that was the legacy the Mer themselves had caused: bloodshed and betrayal. It was a curse they had brought upon themselves a hundred years ago.

And curses were not easily broken.

Rook flew back to Coarinth with a sigh, his wings gliding gracefully over turbulent winds like a ship cutting through unruly waves. This was the first Tournament he’d been chosen to compete in. Alongside Eros and Veila-the most talented soldiers in the Aerial ranks-he would lead the Aura to victory. His people would remain the uncontested rulers of Revelore as they had for the past century.

Rook drifted back to the familiar treacherous mountain paths of Mt. Thalia, soaring upward to the magnificent heights of the city of his birth. The familiar rise and fall of the sandstone buildings loomed closer as he drew near with each pump of his wings, their brilliant shining domes catching the sunlight like blazing torches. Scattered throughout Coarinth, floating pavilions and gazebos drifted through the clouds, tethered to the earth with glittering gold chains. The wealthiest among the Aura lived in beautiful floating manors, complete with open-air courtyards and breathtaking windows that allowed the wind to blow through the rooms with ease.

The city was especially beautiful during the Tournament season, with ceremonial banners and lanterns hanging on every lamppost and doorstep. Though it was only the second time in his life that he would witness the Revelore Tournament, he still remembered the electric energy that had pulsed through Coarinth during the last one ten years ago. As a child, he had participated in the parade that had woven through the streets of the imperial city, watching with fascination as the three Auran tributes were honored with garlands and jewels. One of the tributes, his older sister, Raven, had only been seventeen at the time. Just as her ancestors before, Raven had been the last tribute standing, thus winning the Crown and leading the Aura to victory.

And now it was his turn to bring Aurandel glory.

He glided back towards his own home at the highest point in the city: the Citadel of Auarandel. Rook descended to a roofless sky bridge between two quarters of the Citadel, his boots gently hitting the bridge. He walked through the corridor, dodging several hanging plants and their curling vines. He tucked his wings against his back and swiftly cut through the corridors, making his way toward Raven’s private quarters across the main courtyard.

Climbing up a set of stairs, Rook finally entered the receiving courtyard of the Citadel. Most of the servants were in a frenzy, decorating for the upcoming banquet that would take place in three days’ time. The marbled courtyard was glorious in the soft afternoon light, the grand staircase that led up to the castle’s enclosed throne room spilling into the pavilion like a waterfall. Tables were being set up for the foreign ambassadors and their tributes across the courtyard, all furnished according to the traditions of their countries. Set in the darkest corner of the courtyard, where the sun drifted in only minimally, the tables of the Terradrin were tucked away. An overhang of fabrics formed a tent-like covering over the table and further obscured the sun. Knowing that the ground-dwellers’ sensitive eyesight would still be adjusting to the world above, Rook himself had ordered that they not be put in direct sunlight. If he was to compete with them for the Revelore Crown, he wanted his rivals to be in peak condition. It wouldn’t be fair to compete against people who were practically blind, and it wouldn't be right to refuse them time to properly acclimate themselves to the abrupt change in light. When he bested them in the arena, he wanted a fair fight.

Rook walked swiftly past the tables assigned to the Mer, cringing at the bulky barrels of salt water that sat on the delicate blue tablecloths, seeming completely out of place in the splendor of the courtyard. Like the Terradrin, the Mer also required special provisions for them to adjust to the world above the sea. Their bodies were equipped to breathe seawater, not the air on land. But their lungs could acclimate to the surface if they drank titansblood, an elixir made of mangrove and willowherb that allowed them to oxidize the air. Rook shivered with disgust as he thought about their strangeness, wishing for the thousandth time that the rest of the kingdoms would just cut them off from the continent. A hundred years ago, the Mer had made it clear they were not interested in unity. And when his people tried to make amends and seek reconciliation with Elorshin eight years ago, their negotiations had collapsed in a disastrous assassination plot that killed both his parents.

Rook grimaced at the thought, knowing that keeping their painstakingly arranged peace treaties with the Mer were of the utmost importance, regardless of his feelings or not. The vicious courts of Revelore had made the last century Hel for Aurandel, but at least they had managed to keep things under control through the use of the Tournament. To preserve his kingdom’s rule, Rook would silence his complaints of Elorshin and hold the Mer at arm’s length, as his ancestors did before him.

Rook strode up the grand staircase two steps at a time. Though it would be faster to fly through the airy Citadel, he had to balance his time between walking and flying in order to maintain his carefully conditioned strength. His boots echoed through the spacious throne room, his footsteps muted by the wind that whispered through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lining the room. Transparent, gauzy curtains drifted softly in the warm breeze, its woven flecks of gold catching the light. A breathtaking view of the sapphire-blue sky and the brilliant sweep of distant mountaintops swept in through the window.

“Ah,” a voice called from an alcove, “I was just coming to find you.” Raven strode out from a corner of the room, her dark, waist-length hair shifting in the breeze. She was wearing a simple lilac tunic and loose breeches that tapered at the ankles, the traditional style of Auran commoners. She grinned at him, her dimples identical to the ones that graced his own cheeks.

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