Page 7 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“I have wanted to compete in the Revelore Tournament my whole life,” she answered, watching as her father paced around the room, leaving trails of bubbles in his wake. “You know that I trained with the Torqen so that I could become a tribute one day. Did you think I wouldn’t try? That I wouldn’t give it my best?” Her father cursed, balling his hands into fists.

“I didn’t think you would skirt the rules and put your life at risk,” Angwin replied, his voice a mixture of fear and anger. He turned to her, his eyes softening when he saw the determined look on her face.

“You know that I can’t let you do this,” he said, coming closer to her. “I can’t let you risk your life. You’re too precious to me.” He cupped her face between his hands, his voice pleading. “You must understand why you cannot become a tribute.”

“Father,” Saoirse said slowly, her heart slightly going soft at his expression of concern. She felt like a child again with her father towering over her.

“I lost your mother to her idealism and wild beliefs of reconciliation,” her father interrupted, his eyes filling with sorrow as he looked down at his only daughter. “I won’t lose you too.”

“I don’t seek reconciliation,” Saoirse countered. “I only seek to overthrow Aurandel. I thought you’d want Elorshin’s prowess to be known throughout Revelore,” she seethed. “It’s time for Aurandel to pay tithe to the Mer.” Her father said nothing, a scowl plastered across his face.

“I wanted to prove myself,” Saoirse continued, shaking her head. “I found the most valuable treasure in all of the Maeral Sea. I did what no other Mer has ever done before. I stole from Kaja.” She looked at him, trying to read his face. “Aren’t you proud of me?” Her father frowned and spun away from her in a rush of seawater, his gold eyes flashing.

“Proud of my daughter for almost getting herself killed by a sea dragon? Proud that although I explicitly told her not to try and find the Elder’s Tokens, my daughter went directly against my orders?” He turned back to her, the glow of the algae sharpening the harsh angles of his face. “To which of these are you referring to? Which of these actions should I be proud of?”

“I will represent our people well,” Saoirse bristled. “I will bring back the Crown of Revelore and we will finally earn the respect of the other nations.”

“Impossible,” her father fumed. “We lost the respect of the other nations a hundred years ago, when our ancestors declared war against Aurandel. When your great uncle was betrayed by that winged creature he called a wife,” he spat.

And there it was. The legacy of the Tournament. It was a brutal competition intended to keep the nations in their places after all these years. The courts of Revelore had been forced to swear fealty to Aurandel for a century, forced to bow their knees before the victors of the Tournament every decade.

“If we don’t try, then Elorshin will always be misunderstood, banished to the depths of the Sea for eternity,” Saoirse argued, her voice rising in anger. “If we don’t try, we have no chance at redemption. Aren’t you tired of tithing to the Aura year after year, tired of offering them our best crops and precious metals? It is vile that they consume so much and give back so little,” she seethed. “These missing merchant ships only prove how low they will stoop.”

“Watch your tongue,” her father warned. “Be careful what you accuse Aurandel of, daughter. Every time you voice your suspicions, you put yourself in more danger. They will not stand for dissenters.”

Saoirse pushed on, ignoring him. “Our people give their earnings to a Queen whom they’ve never even seen before! You know as well as I that there are only two options for the losing nations: grovel and try to win the volatile favor of the Aura or hide away in isolation and silently comply.” She turned to him, anger rippling from her like a tangible thing. “I want neither option for Elorshin.”

“It is better this way!” Her father snarled, his face twisted with rage. “After a hundred years, our people have been isolated from the people who hate us. We no longer have to pretend that we are anything like them. The Tournament keeps the peace. It keeps us safe.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Saoirse breathed in disbelief. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do mean it, Saoirse,” her father yelled back, slamming a fist on his desk. “If Elorshin somehow won the Tournament, we would never know a moment’s peace. We would live in never-ending fear. Aurandel would plan our downfall, whether by assassination plot or by corrupting our people from within. They would scheme until Elorshin was defeated and conquered. Until they had the Crown back.”

“You’re afraid,” Saoirse scoffed in disbelief. The waves around her grew choppy and harsh, sensing her rising emotion. A realization dawned on her, and horror swept through her body. “You’ve been sending all those tributes to compete in the Tournament for years,” she accused. “If you never thought they would win-never wanted them to win-their lives have all been forfeit!”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Agwin countered softly. “You don’t know what those beasts have done to our family. This is the only way to reason with them. This is the only way to have peace and protect our people. We mustn’t jeopardize our kingdom for some trivial Crown.”

“If you never believed in the Tournament, then you’ve been lying to all of us. You’ve looked warriors in the eyes and deceived them. Made them believe that they stood a fighting chance in the arena.”

“Their lives were still spent to ensure our peace, even if they did not fully understand the part they were chosen to play,” her father’s voice boomed.

“You can’t stop me. I won’t be another martyr for your cowardly cause,” Saoirse whispered darkly, her heart burning. “I have been chosen by the Elders. Their word is law.”

“They do not command the Sea,” her father shouted, raising his hands. “You may have great power over these waters, daughter, but they obey me above anyone else,” his voice reverberated through the chamber. Saoirse could feel the waves rush around her, following the king’s summons. “I forbid you from taking one step on the continent,” he declared, opening his palms and rallying the ocean. “Any effort you make to leave the Maeral Sea will be conquered by the very waves you seek to escape. You shall not leave these waters until I command the sea to release you.”

A powerful ripple of seawater shot out from his hands, moving across the room and out into the palace like an oncoming tide. Saoirse braced herself against one of his bookshelves as the swell of water continued to surge hungrily from his hands. The seafloor shook under his command, shuddering as the ocean rippled and churned. Glasses fell from the shelves and shattered against the floor, and picture frames rattled on the walls in a chorus of chaos. Pages of parchment went flying, floating through the waves like leaves on the wind. The fire in the hearth went out, the eternal flames winking into embers and casting the room in shadow.

And then all went still.

Already, the waves around her felt different and hostile.

Saoirse was horrified. “You can’t do this! You can’t just trap me here!”

“My word is final, daughter,” her father replied swiftly. “It is for your protection.” Saoirse turned from him, storming out the room in a plume of bubbles.

“Saoirse,” her father called distantly.

She ignored him, swimming away as fast as she could. Her head was spinning, futilely grasping at the unraveling threads of her life. Everything she had been training for seemed like a lie. All her life, she had believed that Elorshin had a chance at redemption. But her father was content to bow to the might of Aurandel without so much as fighting back.

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