Page 43 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“Impossible,” Saoirse breathed, her mind suddenly spinning. He was lying. He had to be. “Perhaps it was all Yrsa,” she pleaded, trying to make sense of it all. “Maybe she forged the letters and sent them in his stead. Maybe she convinced the other nations of Revelore that such reckless orders came from Lorsan when she herself was behind their conception.”

“Lorsan met with my great grandfather in person several times,” Rook assured her. “They dissolved the treaties together. It would be impossible for Yrsa to impersonate him in that way,” he said.

“So you’re saying that Yrsa was innocent?” Saoirse asked, her voice pitching to disbelief. “You’re saying that the Mer made everything up so that they would have a reason to declare war against Aurandel?” She began pacing around the pavilion anxiously. “You believe the Mer to be warmongers searching for a fight, a people who would kill their own king in order to start a war?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Rook answered. “I am just stating what I know. I’m sure there was deception, but on whose end I am not sure.”

He stopped her pacing, putting his hands on her shoulders carefully. “I want to understand as much as you do,” he said quietly.

Her world was shattering, everything she knew about her people crumbling into ashes. The Auran betrayal was the driving force behind everything; it was the cause of the Tournament, the fracturing of Revelore, and of the enduring animosity between the four kingdoms of the continent. If Yrsa was not working for the Aurans, then who was she working for?

“Start from the beginning,” she said in a near whisper. “Tell me what you know. Give me your account of the War of the Age.”

He paced around the pavilion, just as restless as she was. His cloak caught in the wind, rippling as he strode anxiously around the marbled floor. “My great aunt married King Lorsan, ruler of the Mer. It was believed to be a love match, at least at first,” he added. “We had no knowledge of Yrsa’s intentions to spy, and we never received the information you claim that she gathered.” His eyes darkened, something like an accusation blooming on his face as he turned toward her. “Your king had plans to dissolve our trading treaties and break away from Revelore long before Yrsa. He sought to destroy the unity between our nations and obtain the Crown for himself. That was why Yrsa killed him. She had no choice.”

“Hel’s teeth,” Saoirse cursed. “You can’t truly believe that.” She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he admitted that he was wrong.

“What makes you so sure that what I’ve told you is false?” Rook asked, taking a step towards her. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath brush across her cheek. “Why is your version of the story correct and mine is a lie?” he said in a softer tone.

“Where is the truth?” Saoirse breathed. She gazed up at Rook, half wanting to throttle him and half wanting to press her lips against his. It would be so easy to kill him now. She could slip her dagger between his ribs right here in this pavilion. She could fulfill Selussa’s bargain and be done with it. But she couldn’t move her fingers to the blade at her hip. She was frozen.

Heart pounding, she tried to understand, tried to wrap her mind around a history she had never questioned until now. He was right. She had been so confident that Aurandel was to blame. But Rook felt the same way about the Mer, and who was to say that his suspicions were unfounded?

“What if we are both wrong?” Rook asked, his voice barely a whisper as the evening wind rushed past them. He lifted a hand to her cheek, and time seemed to warp and slow down. If not for the warmth of his finger tips, Saoirse would’ve thought she was dreaming.

“We could determine the truth together,” he said gently. There was something so sincere and unguarded in his tone that Saoirse couldn’t help but be taken aback.

She stared at his lips, soft and inviting. She could almost feel fate drawing them to each other with an invisible thread, compelling them to press closer. The gravity between them was undeniable, so palpable that she could almost taste it. It had been like that from the moment she’d sat next to him at the tribute’s banquet, she realized. She lifted her chin, their breaths mingling he lowered his mouth to hers. She began to shut her eyes, her skin tingling with anticipation as she felt the lightest brush of his lips on her own.

You have to kill him.

The thought broke the moment completely, shattering any seed of hope into a million pieces.

“Take me back to camp,” she said roughly, pulling away from him. “The second trial is tomorrow. We had better rest while we still can.” Rook stepped away from her quickly, as if he had been scalded by hot water. Of course he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. He’d be mad to desire a Mer. To want the enemy.

“Agreed,” he simply said, heading for the edge of the pavilion. She trailed after him, feeling hollow and more unsure of herself than she ever had before. There were so many questions and so little answers. And she was running out of time. She balled her hands into fists, her nails scoring little crescents into her palms. Without a word, Rook pulled her into his arms and leapt off the side of the pavilion, launching them into the air.

You have to kill him. The thought echoed through her like the toll of an execution bell.

* * *

Saoirse pushed open the flaps of her tent, her heart thundering in her chest. Titans, she was going mad. She had almost kissed the man she was supposed to kill, the man who was her enemy. She kicked off her boots, shoving them to the corner of the tent.

What is wrong with me?

“What happened?” A voice cut through her thoughts. Saoirse turned, meeting the gaze of Aurelia, who was sitting on the corner of her cot.

“Stars above, I didn’t see you there.” Saoirse nearly jumped out of her skin at Aurelia’s presence.

“Where did you go? Why are you so jumpy?” Her blonde eyebrows knitted together in concern and her mouth tugged into a frown.

Where to even begin? Should she tell her about the uprising in Terradrin that held countless implications for their future? Should they discuss the horrors they both faced in the labyrinth that morning? Or, most alarmingly, should she confess that Rook was now making her question everything she knew about Revelore? And on top of everything, she had made that bloody bargain with Selussa, a woman who she knew practically nothing about.

Saoirse sighed, her own mind unable to process it all. She sat down beside Aurelia, her shoulders finally slumping down after standing rigid all afternoon. The adrenaline of flying with Rook was wearing off, replaced by weariness that settled deep into the marrow of her bones.

“When we came to Aurandel, I thought the goal was simple,” she began, staring at the floor. “I thought we just had to survive the trials and win the Crown. But it all seems so much more complicated now. The political entanglements and the nuance of it all…” she trailed off, struggling to find the words to describe how she felt. She longed to tell Aurelia about Selussa and the bargain. But she couldn’t see how that conversation could end well. She wasn’t just gambling on Rook’s life, she was putting her own life at risk. And knowing Aurelia, she would try to hunt down that Sea Witch herself and take Saoirse’s place.

“I know,” Aurelia agreed, her voice going soft with sympathy. She put a hand on Saoirse’s shoulder, solid and comforting.

---