Page 52 of From the Mouths of Sirens

The tent was heavy with foreboding silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Their whole lives had led up to this moment, and yet there was no mirth or euphoria to be seen. The tension in Saoirse’s heart had been building like a vengeful squall on the horizon, the kind of storm that promised death and destruction to any sailor who bobbed helplessly upon the waves. At any moment, she knew the storm would erupt in a fury of wind and merciless rain. But she wasn’t afraid of what she might encounter in the arena. She was afraid of what she had to do and the consequences that would come after.

25

ROOK

After the second trial, Rook slept in his tent until the sun had descended and the moon had taken its place in the sky. While he slept, he was tormented by feverish dreams of giant spiders and unending labyrinths. He dreamed of his ancestors, King Lorsan and Princess Yrsa. And throughout his restless sleep, Saoirse’s beautiful face haunted him.

Rook abruptly woke up, soaked in sweat and tangled in his bedsheets. His room was dark, only a sliver of moonlight drifting in from the small opening at the top of his tent. He rubbed his face, pushing wet tendrils of dark hair from his forehead. He had never been so exhausted in his life, so utterly drained of energy. He swung his legs over the side of his cot, flexing his sore wings as he sat up.

There was only one night standing between him and the final trial. Only one night until all of their fates were sealed and a victor was declared. It felt like he had been competing in the Tournament for weeks. But it had only been two days. Two days that had somehow changed everything. The only team with three tributes still standing was his own, as was expected. But it was unusual for all four nations of Revelore to be represented at the third trial. Dread pooled in his stomach. He wanted to win, didn’t he?

After his head stopped spinning, Rook stood and peeled off his sweat-soaked uniform and kicked off his boots. He had been so exhausted after climbing out of that spider-infested hole that he had collapsed in his bed without bothering to wash his face or hands. He filled his hands with fresh water from the basin at the corner of his tent, wiping it across his dust-coated body. He scrubbed his hair as best he could, using the lavender soap beside the basin and lathering it in his palms. But no matter how many times he splashed his face with water, he couldn’t seem to get clean. With a sigh, he gave up and toweled himself off. Slipping on a simple tunic and breeches, Rook left his tent and wandered into the night air.

There was little movement in the tribute’s encampment, only a few guards patrolling the camp’s edge. Rook walked through the silent campsite, beams of moonlight illuminating his path like pools of molten silver. He looked up at shining stars above, his eyes catching on the familiar constellations that swept across the night sky. Warriors and creatures of old battled through the heavens, echoing the ancient mythologies of Revelore. Rook felt insignificant under the blanket of stars, as inconsequential as an insect. He scoffed and lookedaway from the legendarystories glittering above.

He continued walking aimlessly through the campsite, not sure of where he was going. A strange peacefulness had settled over the camp-dark and inviting. In the daylight, the roar of the arena blotted out all sound and the cries of emphatic onlookers was nearly unbearable. But now, the world stood still, gilded in silver and silent with sleep.

Rook found himself wandering toward his sister’s tent at the center of the camp. He wasn’t surprised to see torchlight from within the thin walls. Raven was known to keep strange hours, staying up until the early morning almost every night. As Queen of Aurandel and ruler of Revelore, there was always something for her to do, a never-ending list of things she had to investigate and look into. Rook had almost reached her tent when he heard faint voices trickling out and into the night breeze. He stopped, leaning in against the side of the tent.

“-And ransacked the streets and raided the palace,” an urgent voice was saying. Rook pressed closer, raising an eyebrow curiously. There were few conversations Raven had without his knowledge- or so he thought.

“How is that possible?” his sister was saying in a tight-lipped whisper. “The city is heavily guarded.”

“The revolutionaries were far more organized and armored than we could have anticipated,” another voice responded. “Our soldiers are reforming outside of the Clay City and preparing to take it back.”

“Titans,” Raven hissed. “I told you to get this under control. Are your captains so incompetent that a band of rebels can easily overcome trained Aerials? We cannot afford to appear weak. The final trial is in a day. The continent will be in an uproar,” she seethed. “The Tellusun king is bedridden, and his daughter is here in Coarinth. It is up to Aurandel alone to gain back control.”

Rook listened in silence, absorbing all the information like a blow to the stomach. The revolutionaries had somehow managed to overrun the Clay City of Bezhad and the Terradrin city of Meysam in the span of a few days. The attacks had been planned, carried out strategically during the Revelore Tournament while the nations’ rulers were all away. Rook almost pushed open the tent to join the meeting, but he stopped when he heard Raven continue speaking.

“It seems that our attempts to quell tensions in Tellusun with the sabotaged merchant ships has failed,” Raven went on. “If things had gone according to plan, Tellusun should have turned against Elorshin and put their trust in us. I should’ve known it was a foolish move from the start.”

Rook went cold. Titans above. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Raven was behind the lost shipments of food? Saoirse had been right. Elorshin had nothing to do with the missing ships. He felt nauseous, his stomach churning with sickness that threatened to come up any second. Raven had let the Tellusun people starve all for some political agenda? She could’ve told him the truth in the library, but she had instead blamed the Mer for her own treacherous scheme.

“Do not tell Hasana Yerimya of this,” his sister commanded. “She must not know of this attempted uprising. She will do something brash and reckless. She must remain in Coarinth until the final trial is over.”

“Surely she will find out on her own, if she does not know already,” the male’s voice urged. “A messenger will arrive within the day, I’m sure of it.”

“Then intercept it,” Raven snapped. “That is what the Aerials do best, is it not? That is what we have done for the last century.”

“Yes, Majesty,” the voice relented. “I shall return to the Shujaa Desert tonight. We will gain control once more.”

Rook pressed his back to the tent, slipping into the shadows as the entrance rustled open. An Aerial captain strode out of the queen’s tent, a lowly officer trailing after him. They both pushed off the ground and leaped into the sky, their wings carrying them up into the night air. Rook’s heart pounded as he watched them vanish into the darkness, hardly able to comprehend what was happening. His stomach twisted in knots. How could Raven keep something like this from Hasana? From him?

He closed his eyes, his mind wandering to dark places he didn’t want to face. How many secrets had been suppressed over the years? How many messages had been intercepted by the Aura? How many attempted uprisings and periods of unrest had been kept from him?

He curled his hands into fists, heat suddenly burning through him. Hasana would have to be informed. As one ruler to another, it was only right that he told her. He strode out of the shadows, circling the tent to the entrance. But before he found Hasana, he had to confront his sister. He stretched out a hand, about to pull back the fabric and push into the tent.

“You are right to hide the uprising from the princess, Your Highness,” a voice said from within. Rook went cold as all the anger suddenly drained from him. Veila. He was frozen in place outside the tent.

“If Eros and I can aid in any way, please let us know.”

Rook felt sick. He lowered his hand and took a step back. He could understand why Raven kept secrets from him, but this…this was personal. He stepped away from the tent slowly, forcing his stunned body to move.

“Thank you,” Raven’s faint voice was saying as he backed away. “But you know what it is I require of you. That is all I ask from you both, for now. Finish the job tomorrow, and that will be enough. The Elders expect you to succeed.”

The words were meaningless in Rook’s ears. He felt numb all over, impossibly cold and yet flushed with warmth at the same time. He didn’t stay to hear the rest of their conversation. He fled from the tent, slipping through the shadows of the camp in shock.

His own sister didn’t trust him. How many other secret assignments had she given to Eros and Veila over the years? Did she simply let him parade as some hopeful-eyed commander merely to inflate his ego? Was his position so hollow that he had been blind to years of missions taking place behind his back? His world was spinning out of control, the threads of his life unraveling into confusion. Rook unfurled his wings, readying to take to the sky. He would find clarity among the stars.

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