Page 22 of From the Mouths of Sirens

He looked down at her and grinned, choosing to abandon all the cynical thoughts that plagued him. He unfolded his wings, allowing them to spread out in the wind. Raven did the same, her own wings adorned with delicate gold chains that shimmered in the light of the moon.

“I suppose that would be too much to ask for,” Raven replied, her eyes glittering in amusement.

They took several steps down together, arm in arm. The guests grew quiet as the pair descended, their guests holding their breaths as they made their entrance. Against the ink-dark sky, the courtyard glowed with ethereal light. Twinkling lights were strung across the pillars at its entrance, shining like little stars on strings. Huge sconces housed warm flames that drifted into the sky, illuminating the courtyard below. Long dining tables were spread out across the center of the courtyard and stunning floral arrangements were piled high in the middle of the tables. But more captivating than the spectacular decor were the people that crowded at the base of the stairs, staring up at them.

Rook swept his gaze across the crowd as they continued down the stairs, taking in all of the different people gathered before them. In the darkened corner, pale-skinned people stared up at them, most of them with bright white hair and huge, luminous eyes. The Terradrin people. Earth-dwellers.

Next to the Terradrin, people dressed in vibrant robes and flowing clothing gazed up from the center of the courtyard. Standing in the middle of the group, Princess Hasana stared at him from behind a glittering veil, her piercing eyes bright even from a distance. Beside her, Ambassador Sahl gave him a warm smile. The Tellusun people. Sand-dwellers.

And to the right of the desert folk, his own people stood proudly, their chins raised to their queen and captain. Sky-dwellers. Wings of many different colors fanned out in the wind, their feathers shifting on the breeze.

And there, at the back of the crowd, stood their greatest enemies. Hailing all the way from Elorshin were the Mer, freshly arrived from the sea and late as always. They were dressed in blues and greens, shimmering dresses and sheer tunics. He took in the thin layer of scales on their cheekbones and shoulders, nearly translucent against their skin. Sea-dwellers.

Along the edges of the courtyard, the Order of Elders stood watching over the banquet like soldiers. Despite hailing from different countries and holding opposing loyalties, they all wore the same crisp purple robes that symbolized their sacred service to Revelore. Their vows were the same, even if they advised countries that hated each other. The Elders of his own people had always made him feel uneasy. With their secretive gazes and low whispers, he always felt like they knew something he didn’t.

He and Raven descended to the final few steps, now level with the crowd. The onlookers parted for them, stepping aside while they strode toward the Auran table. Rook could feel a thousand eyes burning into him, scanning his body from every angle and measuring his worth. He raised his chin even higher. When they finally reached their table, Raven took her place at a large throne centered in the middle. She turned to the crowd, composed and regal as ever.

“People of the sky, sea, sand, and earth,” she called out, her voice echoing across the open courtyard. “Welcome to Coarinth, the City of the Titans. We are honored to have you as guests.”

Rook watched as his sister surveyed the crowd. She was no longer his older sister, but rather the ruler of Revelore, the Iron Queen.

“The Tournament is a beautiful thing. It brings us together every decade, generation after generation. The Tournament heals our past and restores our hope. It makes us equals.” Raven paused, letting a smile unfold across her lips. The crowd was silent, a sea of expectant eyes all staring at her. “Let us feast tonight,” his sister continued with a smile. “Let us celebrate how far we have come in a hundred years. Tonight is for you.” She reached down to the table, picking up a golden goblet. She lifted the cup to the star-filled sky. “May glory be given,” she called out.

“May glory be given,” the crowd echoed across the courtyard, a chorus of different voices mingling together. But despite the volume of voices, there was something hollow about the sound. The clinks of goblets and glasses filled the air.

“Let the Master of Trials be welcomed,” Raven ordered, taking a seat in her throne.

She looked up at Rook, giving him a soft nod. He left her side and headed for the far left wall of the pavilion, where Eros and Veila stood waiting. At every corner of the courtyard, the tributes of the other nations gathered in their respective places, waiting to make their formal entrance. He headed straight for his companions, barely sparing a glance at any of the other tributes. Eros clasped his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile, seeming to forgive his cynical words from the balcony.

“Ready?” Eros asked with a steady gaze.

Rook nodded and turned back toward the crowd, his heart racing. All of the foreign ambassadors and court members had taken their seats at their assigned banquet tables. The crowd went quiet again, the stretch of silence louder than any roar of applause.

The Master of Trials appeared at the top of the grand staircase. High Elder Korina Petrakou stood above them all, her face lit with warm, golden light. The woman was at least seventy years of age, but she stood with strength and vitality. Unlike the majority of Aurans, she had no wings. But Rook knew that her sharp mind and quick wit made up for her lack of feathers tenfold. The old woman took a few steps down the stairs, a long cape trailing behind her. Instead of wearing the traditional purple robes of the Elders of Revelore, she had been given a gown so black it seemed to absorb the colors around it. The Master of Trials was stoic and emotionless as she continued down, observing everyone in attendance with a keen eye.

“People of Revelore,” Korina said when she left the final stair, “you have sent your finest to compete for the Crown. The Tournament is a long-held tradition in Revelore, one of the most time-honored events in all of history. As you all know, the Tournament was established centuries ago by the Order of Elders. This year, I have the privilege of presiding over the trials.” She paused, letting her words hover above the crowd. “In the days of old, the only prize to be won was pride and the mere title of champion. Now, the stakes are much higher and more befitting of the death-defying trials you will compete in. The country who wins the Tournament wins the Crown that was forged in the heart of Mt. Thalia.”

Her voice drifted through the courtyard, amplified by some unseen magic. Everyone in the courtyard watched her intently, hanging on every word she spoke. “Your tributes have proved their worth to your country, but now the time has come for them to prove themselves to the world,” she continued. “Through three trials of strength and wit, one nation shall emerge victorious. That nation shall earn the right to rule Revelore and possess the Crown.” She looked at all of the tributes carefully, seeming to look into their very souls. “Which one of you shall be named champion?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy as a stormcloud swollen with rain. Rook shivered under her gaze, his skin prickling. Her eyes were dark and swimming with secrets that he’d give anything to know.

Korina turned to the Terradrin tributes to her left, her black robes pooling around her. “Adresin Vasalor, Neia Landum, and Diru Balran of the Under Kingdom,” she announced, gesturing to the ground-dwellers with a sweep of her hand. “Honored warriors, please take your place at the tribute table.”

The three Terradrin tributes emerged from the darkness, all of them tall and lean with muscle. They bowed to Korina, turning toward the table at the center of the banquet. One of the men, Adresin, wore his long hair loose around his shoulders, a shock of pure white against the dark sky. The other male tribute wore his white hair in a braid down his back, so long that it almost trailed past the sword at his hip. With a start, Rook recognized the female tribute as Neia Landum, Captain of the Terradrin army. He was surprised that she had been chosen to represent Terradrin, given her status. He had many dealings with her in recent years, and none of them were pleasant. With the controversial Auran occupation in Terradrin, the last person Rook wanted to face in the arena was the Under Kingdom’s military leader.

Rook watched as the ground-dwellers made their way to the table, their white hair bright in the moonlight. Twelve chairs sat behind a long table at the courtyard’s center, giving the tributes a view of the crowd before them. The Terradrin warriors claimed the first three chairs at the table, hidden under a soft covering designed to reduce the amount of light that filtered through the courtyard.

Korina then turned to the Tellusun people, directing her piercing gaze to the shadows. “Numair Majid, Ramin Naseeba, and Noora Mir of Tellusun.” The three Tellusun tributes stepped into the light, bowing to the Master of Trials.

“Please take your place at the tribute table, honored warriors,” she told them. They strode through the courtyard proudly, their signature desert clothing loose and airy in the wind. Rook spared a glance at Hasana, noticing how she glowed with pride as the tributes wove their way between the tables. When they had seated themselves next to the Terradrin warriors, Korina turned to Rook.

“Veila Stjarna, Eros Morningstar, and Prince Rook Adonia of Aurandel,” the Master of Trials called out. Rook and his companions stepped forward and bent into their customary bows. As he lowered his face to the earth, it suddenly dawned on Rook that it was all real. Like a bucket of ice cold water thrown over his head, the reality of what he was about to face washed through him in a biting sweep that sent his fingers tingling. Though he had trained for this moment all his life, the Tournament had seemed like a distant dream up until now. He rose from the bow, his gaze finding Raven’s across the crowd. She smiled at him encouragingly.

“Honored warriors, please take your places at the tribute table,” Korina ordered. Eros strode forward first, Veila and Rook following close behind. It was surreal, walking through the crowd and heading for the tribute’s table with his closest friends. As Rook lowered himself into a seat, a sacred weight seemed to settle on his shoulders. There were now only three empty chairs left.

Finally, Korina directed her gaze to the far corner of the courtyard. There was a heaviness in the air as everyone in attendance held their breaths and waited for the Master of Trials to call out the names of Elorshin’s tributes.

“Aurelia Eleni, Sune Kresten, and Princess Saoirse Kellamheart of Elorshin.” Everyone in the crowd craned their necks, trying to glimpse the Mer tributes. Ice ran through Rook’s blood as he watched the sea-dwellers emerge from the darkness and bow to Korina.

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