Page 41 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“Impossible,” Grivur replied in horror. He turned to Hasana, his eyes wide. “What do you have to say, Daughter of the Shujaa Desert?”

Hasana’s gold eyes glinted in the candlelight, betraying nothing. “I know just as little as you, King Grivur,” she answered calmly. “It is well known that trade between the Terradrin and Tellusun is only permitted during the spring monsoon season. My people have no reason to venture so far during the autumn months, nor would they dare to enter a city under Auran occupation so recklessly,” she added. “And how they could manage to sneak into a city so well protected by the Auran legions is beyond me.” The slightest of smirks twisted at the corners of her mouth as she met Raven's gaze. "Perhaps your commanders do not know the Tellusun well enoughfrom the Terradrin? After all, our trade, as you put it, is a bigger issue to us than to you. Why would we sabotage ourselves?"

“Tread carefully girl,” Raven all but growled, her cool demeanor showing the first cracks of frustration.

Brazenly, Hasana said, “Perhaps your commander’s eyes were mistaken, Your Highness. Are relations between our people not cordial?” Hasana continued, lifting an eyebrow. “The peace between our nations has been maintained for over two decades, has it not? Can you truly imagine my people attempting an uprising with the Terradrin?” She lifted her chin definitely, the very picture of confidence.

“I do not dare grow too comfortable, Princess Hasana,” Raven replied darkly. “You are a fool if you believe I do not watch every nation with scrutiny at all times. Nothing is beyond the realm of possibility.”

“I can assure you that I have no knowledge of Tellusun rebels in Meysam nor in my own city,” Hasana retorted cooly, unbothered by Raven’s biting words.

“We will be sending more Aerial troops to Terradrin and Tellusun,” Raven stated, seemingly finished with the conversation. “I expect there to be no resistance.” Her word was final. “We will continue this meeting in two days, when the Tournament is over. Until then, I am stationing extra guards with both of you at all times. I am suspending all diplomatic rights until the end of the Tournament. There will be no messages between your cities that I do not read first,” Raven ordered. “Any attempts of communication shall be intercepted, I can assure you.”

Grivur balked, his eyes wide with disbelief. If Hasana was bothered by the Auran Queen’s suspicions, she didn’t reveal it. Saoirse clenched her fists. How Hasana could withstand such treatmentwas beyond her. Each nation held their own power, their own rights to govern. None of this affected her, and yet she was furious. Never before had she witnessed Aurandel’s iron grip on the continent so close.

“You can’t do that,” Saoirse began, the words slipping from her mouth on their own accord. “If there are uprisings in their cities, Grivur and Hasana should be the first ones to know. Their peoples’ lives may be at stake. And, if what you have said is true, you should have consulted Grivur immediatelyinstead of seizingthe opportunity to demonize Terradrin’s leadership in front of all of us.”

The room was deathly silent as her words hung in the air. Raven stared at her, a slow contemptuous smile creeping across her face.“Mer Princess,” she told her condescending, “you have much to learn. You are sitting here on a mere formality because of my younger brother's misplaced sense of honor. The Mer have long kept this table at arms length, yet at your first gathering, you expect to unravel the rules that have governed it for over a century?" Raven smiled condescendingly, raising her arms in some kind of peace-offering. “What else should a queen do, but protect her lands and her people from violence and chaos?”

“It isn’t right,” Saoirse argued, heat burning on her face. “You speak of your people, but you consolidate power and weaken your allies.” She turned to Rook, half expecting him to side with her. But he was staring at his feet, his mouth twisted into a frown. Hasana gave nothing either, training only an unreadable gaze on her. "I may not have much experience in these matters, but I see this injustice clearly.”

“What do you know of right?” The Auran Queen hissed between clenched teeth, slamming her fists into the tabletop so hard that the hastily laid goblets bounced into the air and onto the floor.“What do you know except treachery and backstabbing?” The Auran Queen swept a finger across the room, landing on Saoirse. “Eight years ago, your mother destroyed my family to undercut our power. And therest of you stood by!" Raven shook her head. “You should be grateful I allowed you to compete at all, yet you question me with no remorse,” she said poisonously. “You should be grateful that I have allowed you to compete in this year’s Tournament. If you question my authority again, you shall be banished from the trials and sent back to the Sea immediately.”

Saoirse clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to rise from the table. But she knew that Raven would make good on her promise.

“Leave me, all of you,” Raven commanded. “This meeting has been adjourned. Return to your tents and prepare for the second trial.”

With that, the rulers of Revelore stood from the table, the atmosphere heavy with tension and unspoken words. As she rose from her chair, it had never been more clear to Saoirse that whatever fragile treaties had been formed over recent years hung on the edge of a knife, able to collapse at any moment.

Saoirse left the tent quickly, her head spinning. Outside, the incessant rain had finally stopped, leaving behind shining puddles and slippery patches of mud. Saoirse headed for her private tent, listening as the other leaders filed out of the Queen’s quarters and out into the tribute encampment. In light of political uprisings and tangled histories, the Tournament seemed trivial.

Hearing squelching boots behind her, Saoirse watched from the corner of her eye as Rook slipped from the tent and stared up at the now-clear sky. Saoirse’s heart panged in her chest at the sight of him, hot anger searing through her at the apathy he had shown in their meeting. But even as disdain burned in her heart, something like longing prickled at the back of her mind. What might have been if their nations had never gone to war a century ago? Saoirse struggled to imagine a world in which their kind saw each other as equals, a world in which the Mer and the Aura were allies. Rook spread his wings, lifting them to the air in a graceful sweep. His gray-feathered wings were impossibly beautiful, each one as long as his own body when fully extended. Saoirse tore her gaze away from him just before his piercing blue eyes found hers. She hurried away from the center of the campsite, her skin hot and her heart conflicted.

Saoirse was beginning to understand why her father was content to remain isolated in the Maeral Sea. She couldn’t deny that Elorshin was safest when it conformed to the authority of Aurandel. She ought to just compete in the Tournament quietly and stop asking questions. But at the edge of her mind, traitorous thoughts swirled in a reckless dance. Would Revelore be better off without the Tournament, better off without one ruling nation to uphold the peace? She would’ve scoffed at the notion a week ago, when she had stolen from Kaja and risked her very life for the chance to compete. When she had betrayed her father and made the bloody deal with Selussa, she had been more than willing to fight in the arena for the Crown. But now…

Something unknown churned within her, whispering of more. There was more to the Tournament, more to the Crown. She was sure of it. And then there was that damned bargain she had made with Selussa, hanging over her every move. Fulfilling her end of the deal was the last thing she needed to worry about with uprisings and secrets filling up every space around her. Saoirse sighed, feeling more lost now than she had in the labyrinth. She wanted-needed-the Tournament to be necessary. If it truly was pointless, she didn’t know where the future of her people stood.

There was one person here that held answers.

She abruptly halted in her tracks, turning to face Rook. The prince hadn’t moved from the center of the camp, his head simply inclined to the shafts of sunlight that peaked through the dissolving remnants of storm clouds. His eyes were closed, his expression soft as he raised his face to the emerging sun. Lifting her chin and straightening her back, she strode towards him.

“Prince Rook.” He opened his eyes and looked down at her, something akin to relief delightfully appearing at the corners of his mouth. Rook’s sapphire blue eyes sent a jolt through her as his gaze passed over her face curiously. “I need you.” Rook narrowed his eyes in confusion, and she cursed herself for blushing at her own blunder. "I need you to explain something to me. About the nature and fairness of the games."

“What do you require of me, princess?” Rook asked, his eyes glowing brighter. “Don’t challenge me to another duel,” he added, his lips quirked flirtatiously.

“We need to talk,” she said. Rook’s wry smile slowly faded as he understood the implications of her words. He knew as well as she that conversations between a Mer and an Auran had been unheard of since the the deaths of their parents eight years ago. But just this once, Saoirse was willing to break the cycle. If only so she could understand why the Tournament benefitted them all. Saoirse hated herself for being so weak, for practically surrendering her pride for this Auran prince she wanted so desperately to hate. If there was no way for her to avoid killing him, she would at least understand him first, know the inner-workings of imperial prejudice that he no doubt harbored. She desperately hoped that if he cared to answer, her task would be made easier by some brutish answer. She needed him to be the monster she believed him to be.

“Our peoples hate each other, from commoners to royal families.” She paused. “Certainly we have each inherited these prejudices whether they are warranted or not. But why do we allow them to continue? What reason do you and I have to hate each other?”

Rook pondered her request, those blue eyes boring into her. "I will entertain your question, but elsewhere." His eyes scanned the campsite before returning to her. "Somewhere safe, where we can be alone." Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her to his chest.

Before she could say a word, the Prince of Aurandel shot into the sky.

21

SAOIRSE

As Rook lifted them into the sky, Saoirse could hardly breathe. Crushed against his chest, she gasped for air as they grew weightless together, suspended in the scattered clouds. Her stomach flipped when she glanced down, watching as the campsite below grew smaller with every pump of Rook’s powerful wings. She clutched his tunic with a death grip and scrambled to wrap herself closer for fear that he’d drop her. Visions of plummeting back down to the earth and shattering on the ground suddenly filled her mind, and she shut her eyes tight against the gory images. The wind tore through her hair, whispering through her clothes and pulling on her dangling legs. Rook, to his credit, seemed to realize how terrified she was. He pulled her closer and tightened his grip around her shoulders. Fleetingly, Saoirse imagined how many lovers he had swept off of their feet in the same way, dazzling them with his graceful wings.

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