Page 38 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“The border is rife with violence, Captain Aderyn,” Raven interrupted. “How were the securities of our cityso overlooked?” She shook her head. “Meysam is under military control to prevent such chaos in the first place. To protect our people and their trade routes.” Raven paused. “How were they so bold, and so successful?”

“The mob grew too quickly to have happenedorganically as the city slept.” Aderyn rubbed his temples and averted his eyes. And-” he broke off. He looked at the floor, as if second-guessing what he was about to say.

“Out with it, Captain,” Rook ordered, crossing his arms.

The man looked up, something like fear in his eyes. “And I have reason to believe they were not alone in their efforts, or sympathies."

“Elaborate,” Raven snapped.

“It looked to me like there were,” he stumbled on his words, “like there were Tellusun members.” The words filled the tent like a fog, heavy and tense.

"Are you insinuating that Tellusun organized this assault with Terradrin?” Rook stared at his sister in disbelief.

It didn’t make sense. The desert kingdom was across the continent from the Under Kingdom. Anyone passing from the Shujaa Desert to Terradrin would have to travel by land across the jungled islands of Mythos and through the treacherous mountain pass of Aurandel. Either that or sail through the unruly waves of the Maeral Sea, which was possibly the most challenging route to take. Aerial spies would’ve noticed any unsanctioned merchant ships and land trade being conducted almost instantly.

“You are implying that they have formed some kind of alliance behind our backs?” Raven hissed. “In direct defiance of all sacred beliefs, no less. If this conspiracy has any merit, those responsible face high treason punishable by death, Captain Aderyn.”

“I would not wager my life on it yet, Your Majesty. Still, I cannot imagine their goals in pretending to form an illicit alliance, unless someone else entirely wishes to turn us against each other,” Aderyn answered. “We’ve captured several of the rebels and taken them for questioning. We’ll get answers soon enough,” he assured them.

“Speculation," Raven began, “is of no use to me. You will interrogate these prisoners yourself, and returnto Meysam with double the original garrison. I need answers immediately.”

Rook cursed, pacing across the tent. “Hel, I should be there,” he swore, balling his hands into fists. “I could leave tonight, fly in and question the damned radicals myself. Assess how severe our losses are with my own eyes.”

“You can’t,” Raven retorted. Of course Rook knew that it was impossible to leave the Tournament. He was bound to the trials now, and if he left his place would be forfeit. He wouldn’t be able to leave until the last trial ended. He continued pacing around the tent, his wings itching to take flight.

“Captain Aderyn,” Raven ordered, “return to Meysam with haste. Your first priority is to gain control back over the city. Take fresh soldiers with you. Show the people of Meysam that we are still in control and that this skirmish does not pose a threat to the Auran occupation. Enforce a strict curfew. Any groups gathering after the curfew are to be arrested and questioned.”

“What of the captured radicals?” Aderyn asked.

“Use whatever means necessary to get them to speak,” Raven replied quickly. “If they don’t talk, send them to the salt mines.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Aderyn replied with a bow. “I will report back as soon as I can.” He turned to Rook, concern on his face as he surveyed the bloody gash across his forehead.

“May glory be given, Prince Rook.” With that, the captain unfolded his wings and stepped into the torrent of rain outside the tent, leaping into the dark sky as a flash of lightning tore through the clouds.

The two of them stood in the tent in silence, the pounding of the rain echoing the rhythm of Rook’s heart. Of all the times to have an attempted uprising, it had to be in the middle of the Revelore Tournament. Rook looked at his empty hands, feeling completely useless.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Raven said, “you’re needed here too, Rook. Winning this Tournament is just as important as quelling a rebellion. If we lose this, there will be a dozen more rebellions within the week, each larger than the last.” She crossed the room, taking his hands in her own. “Keeping the Crown and maintaining order are the most important acts of leadership and sacrifice you could make.”

“Understood,” Rook replied numbly. Emotions swirled in his chest, tangling together in a confusing knot. Memories of receiving a similar rolled parchment ten years ago flooded his mind, telling him of the uprisings that followed in the wake of his parents’ deaths. He remembered the chaos that had ensued for years. For chaos was what became of the continent when Aurandel wasn’t there to maintain the peace.

“We must summon a meeting with Princess Hasana and King Grivur as soon as possible,” Raven added wearily, running a hand through her dark hair. “They’d better have answers.” She pulled her hood up again, her glittering eyes shadowed. “Find Hasana. I’ll pull Grivur out from whatever rock he’s hiding under. Meet me in my tent in ten minutes.”

“Shouldn’t we summon Princess Saoirse too?” Rook asked without thinking. He winced as his sister turned around slowly, a disapproving frown etching its way across her smooth face. “This involves all of Revelore, does it not?” he quickly added. “King Angwin did not attend the Tournament. His next of kin should hear whatever the other nations have to offer. Our reputation is soured, so we must invite the Mer princess to appear judicious and respectful.” Raven turned to glare at him, as if she knew his true motives for demanding Saoirse to be present.

“So be it,” she replied simply, her voice unreadable. Raven swirled out of the tent, the roar of the rain filling the small space as she flung open the fabric doors.

Shrugging his tribute’s cloak back on his shoulders, he pulled the hood over his head and made for the entrance of the tent. The deep purple fabric was tailored to him perfectly, providing him with carefully cut holes that allowed his wings to expand even as he wore the cloak over his back. Rook pushed open the tent, taking a step into the rain. His boots sank in the mud as he strode through the tribute’s camp, slurping with every step. Beyond, the silhouette of the arena stood against the horizon like a menacing beast. The mere sight of it left a bad taste in his mouth.

He wove his way through the tent rows, nodding to several other tributes who stood watching in their tent doorways. They had all been given their own private quarters, made of unique swaths of fabric that represented the nations they came from. Though Rook would’ve preferred to return to the Citadel each night, it was customary for the tributes to sleep next to the Stone Circle until the Tournament ended.

He headed for a cluster of gold and orange tents, where the Tellusun were likely mourning their fallen tribute within. The one who had died in the claws of the chimera. Rook grimaced, stopping just before the tent given to Hasana. Though the princess had been offered comfortable chambers within the Citadel, she had preferred to stay near her country’s tributes in her own tent. The tent was beautiful, even in the dreary downpour. It was lined with intricate threads of gold along the edges, golden tassels and beads hanging in ropes at the entrance. Above the tent, the flag of the Tellusun lay limp against the central pole, soaked in rain. Rook inhaled, already dreading the discussion. He hadn’t spoken to Hasana since their conversation in the library.

There is no fair chance, she had said. Not while my people are starving and my lands are dying. Not while this continent is plagued with disunity and secrets.

Rook straightened and cleared his throat, preparing to call out to the princess. But before he could say a word, the tent flaps opened and warm firelight spilled out over the mud.

“Prince Rook,” Hasana acknowledged, as if she had known he had been standing outside for some time. She wore no veil, only a gold circlet framing her brow. Her dark hair was pulled into an intricate braid that twisted over one shoulder. Rook looked to the fire behind her, spying the two remaining Tellusun tributes sitting in front of it. Their cheeks shone with tears in the firelight, their shoulders hunched over in defeat. The female tribute, Noora Mir, stood quickly at the sight of him. She grabbed her bow, ready to protect Hasana should the need arise.

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