Page 16 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“They are the pride of our family,” Rook explained, picking up a volume. “Some would say they are the most valuable treasures we possess.” Hasana was silent, merely walking through the endless rows in slack-jawed wonder. Rook followed her around the corner, stopping abruptly when he saw what she was staring at.

He went cold with regret.

Hasana stood before the great glass case at the center of the room, gazing at the Crown of Revelore displayed within. It suddenly occurred to him that it had been insensitive and even foolish of him to show her the library. Why had he thought it a good idea to show her the Crown that all Revelorians envied?

Hasana was staring intently at the jewel-encrusted crown, something like amazement and terror on her face. “I’ve never seen it in person before,” she said slowly, as if in a trance. She placed a finger on the glass, trying to touch the Crown. “Each jewel represents a nation,” she breathed, her eyes tracing the four points of the Crown and the distinctly-colored jewels on each tip. “Forged for the continent of Revelore during the Great Peace thousands of years ago. It is said that the Crown was created as a weapon to protect the continent if the Titans of legend were to ever resurrect and return to take their revenge.”

“Yes, it was forged during the Great Peace,” Rook agreed, desperately trying to end this conversation and herd Hasana out before anyone discovered how foolish he had been to take her there. “But the rest of the rumors are meritless folklore, stories told to children to keep them from misbehaving. The Crown isn’t a weapon, it is merely a political symbol.” He tried to take her hand and steer her away, but she jerked away from him.

“Whoever possesses the Crown, possesses Revelore,” Hasana was saying, still mesmerized. Her eyes caught on the gleaming points of the Crown, shining like the spires of an ancient temple in the sunset. An eerie feeling crept up Rook’s neck as he watched her expression change from awe to hunger.

“Yes,” Rook interrupted, taking her hand and pulling her away from the display case. “And every nation has an equal chance of winning it fairly. The worthy are rewarded.” She reluctantly followed him, her eyes never leaving the glittering Crown.

“That’s not true,” she countered softly. Rook’s grip on her hand slackened, and he took in the sight of her form silhouetted by the blazing fireplace.

“There is no fair chance,” Hasana continued firmly. “Not while my people are starving and my lands are dying. Not while this continent is plagued with disunity and secrets. There is only ever one winner, and the rest suffer. The Crown doesn’t belong in the hands of one country. That is not how our forebears intended it to be. Do you really think that the Four Kinsmen would be proud of how Revelore has deteriorated into something so unrecognizable and divided?”

“What are you talking about?” Rook asked. “I-”

“What are you doing here?” a voice boomed from across the library.

Rook cursed at the sound of his sister’s commanding voice. He looked toward the doorway, watching as Raven strode in with a grim expression on her face.

“Raven,” Rook began, trying to calm his sister. “This is not what you think-”

“Get out,” his sister growled. She leveled a glare at Hasana that was so chilling that the Maeral Sea could’ve frozen over. “Get out!”

Hasana said nothing, merely returning Raven’s searing gaze with a polite nod. The Tellusun Princess exited the library with her back straight and her chin up, defiant and dignified. Raven whirled around to face Rook, her billowing robes pooling around her feet.

“What the Hel do you think you’re doing?” she snarled. “Bestowing generosity upon the poor girl because her father is dying? Offering one look at the Crown before the Tournament, so that she can go tell her tributes that it’s real?” Raven clenched her fists, her wings flaring with a fury so palpable that it made the library shudder.

“Why can’t we share this place?” Rook retorted. “What’s so wrong with finding an ally in Hasana? What are you afraid of?”

Raven narrowed her eyes at him. “We can’t afford to form alliances. To have friends,” she answered in a poisonous tone. “Having friends and trusting strangers gets you killed. That is not how things work, little brother.”

“Is it not true that the Crown was intended to be shared? What changed over the centuries to make us fight like animals for the right to possess it?” Rook asked, surprising even himself by the question. He knew the answers. He had been taught them his whole life. So why had he asked?

Raven’s eyes darkened like an unforgiving squall on the horizon. That look never failed to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge. It was the look that she had come to be known for, the look of a merciless monarch that struck fear into the hearts of the greatest warriors in Revelore. There was a reason she was called the Iron Queen, the Champion.

“Why must the Tournament draw Tellusun, Elorshin, and Terradrin here like lambs to the slaughter every decade?” Rook continued brazenly. His words were blasphemous.

“Because,” Raven replied, her voice like daggers, “the Tournament keeps the peace.” She looked over his shoulder at the Crown, her eyes shining in the firelight. “You were there the day mother and father were assassinated by those rogue Terradrin Revolutionaries. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you and I don’t face the same bloody fate.” Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “You have such a good heart, Rook. But to win, your heart mustn’t be good. It must be impenetrable. As strong as this mountain,” Raven added, gesturing to the cavernous walls around them.

“I’m sorry for bringing Hasana here,” Rook answered, lowering his head. “ I know why we must keep our treasures secret. I know why the Crown must be kept safe,” he said, half to Raven and half to himself. Something in him was stirring, and he didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking.

“This is just the way things are,” Raven said softly, the hot wrath in her eyes slowly melting into their usual cool reserve.

“Understood,” Rook acknowledged. He strode from the library, unable to talk any longer. He expected to feel shame as he wove through the mountain tunnels. He wanted to feel guilty for bringing Hasana to his family’s sacred quarters. But instead, all he felt was anger.

There is no fair chance. Hasana’s words echoed through his head as he rose through the mountain towards the surface. There is only ever one winner, and the rest suffer.

Hadn’t his own family suffered enough? Hadn’t they fought tooth and nail to get where they were now? Didn’t they deserve to rule? But even as the questions burned through him, a part of Rook wondered why he hadn’t known that the Tellusun people were starving. Did Raven know?

Rook emerged from the hallway, entering into the sun-lit throne room. The afternoon light shifted to pink and purple as the evening sunset bloomed along the horizon like spilled ink. He strode toward an open window, looking out on the courtyard below. There was a frenzy of activity as servants readied the pavilion for the upcoming tribute’s banquet. He watched as they strung up garlands of leaves and twinkling lights, unfurling silk panels and set out stunning bouquets of exotic flowers on every table. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. All of the fanfare and lavish display suddenly seemed cruel in light of what Hasana had shared in the library. They decorated the palace and fed the tributes fine food to mask the horrors to come and hide the tension brewing between the nations. But Rook could do nothing.

He didn’t even know if he wanted things to change in the first place.

9

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