Page 63 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“I’m inclined to believe Selussa,” Saoirse argued. “I witnessed her do things that are only described in the legends. She knew things about King Lorsan and Princess Yrsa that no one alive today would have known. She has already collected one ancient Relic, the heart of Charybdis, Titan of the Sea. Her heart now takes the form of a dark Málmr pearl. Selussa would’ve acquired it a hundred years ago, had my great grandfather not imprisoned her in the Fretum. But I unknowingly retrieved it for her when I entered the Tournament. And now she possesses the dagger. There are only two Relics remaining.”

Rook wanted to believe that her ridiculous notions were fantasy, the delusions of a mad witch. But a part of him wondered if what she spoke of was true. He turned her words over one by one, trying to fit them together and make sense. He knew the legends, of course. Like every child in Revelore, the myths were told to him. Every time he looked at the night sky, he was reminded of the old stories of Revelore’s foundation. But never before had he considered them to be real.

“What does your great grandfather have to do with Selussa?” Rook asked.

“Selussa is a shapeshifter,” she began. “She bargains with people, taking their blood to solidify their agreement. She did the same to Princess Yrsa a hundred years ago. Selussa killed Yrsa and impersonated her, marrying King Lorsan in her stead. Just as she did with me when I failed to fulfill our bargain.”

“What?” Rook breathed. His mind was racing, unable to process her words. If what Saoirse was saying was true, then all of the animosity between Aurandel and Elorshin stemmed from the Sea Witch’s trickery, not from simple selfishness and greed from their ancestors. They had all been misled, convinced of a warped reality that had been conceived by some ancient monster.

“It will make sense if you stop to think about it,” Saoirse told him. “You and I both have different versions of the story. Your people claim to have no knowledge of Yrsa’s secret messages or her assignment to kill Lorsan. And my people also cannot prove that the raids on our trading posts were carried out by Aurandel. It seems to me that Selussa spoke the truth.”

Rook stopped pacing and the room seemed to spin. If he had thought his understanding of the world had shattered before, it was now being completely rewritten. The information Eros and Veila had disclosed to him before the third trial flooded his mind: “A hundred years ago, after the war, the Elders determined that Aurandel should rule. It was the Elders who first instructed your grandparents to kill all remaining tributes in the Tournament. Aurandel is a chosen people, divinely appointed to rule the continent.”

It all started to connect, like the bright stars in a constellation that formed a greater picture. If High Elder Adda Carew had taken Saoirse to the Sea Witch, then it was undeniable that the Order knew about the bargain. But what dark purpose did they have in enforcing the procedure of killing off the other tributes?

“What happened after Selussa tried to kill me?” he asked darkly. If what the witch claimed was true, Revelore was truly in danger.

“She fled with the hydra,” Saoirse answered. She sighed warily and closed her eyes. “The last I saw of her, she was heading for the Coast of Delore, toward the Maeral Sea.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she said the words.

“Hel’s teeth,” Rook cursed. “She is going to take revenge on your people, then?”

Saoirse nodded, saying nothing.

“And after that, she will come for the rest of the Relics. Scattered to the far corners of Revelore, right?” he asked. “One is here in Bezhad with Hasana, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Saoirse answered. “Selussa will likely come here next.”

“What is she doing with these Relics?” he asked. “What twisted purpose does she have in collecting them?” It had to be connected, all of it. The Order of Elders and the Tournament. Eros and Veila’s orders to kill all remaining tributes. The Relics and the Crown.

“I don’t know,” Saoirse replied. The emotion in her eyes hardened into anger. “But I’m going to find out before she gathers them all.” She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms.

“What happened to my sister?” Rook suddenly asked, his heart thundering in his chest. The last time he had seen her was within the underground chambers below the arena. “Is Raven alright?”

“She is still in Aurandel. She returned to Coarinth right after the hydra escaped and the revolutionaries left the Stone Circle.” Saoirse hesitated for a moment, her mouth opening as if she wanted to say more. But she shut her lips and averted her gaze.

“Tell me,” Rook demanded. “Whatever it is you have to say, just tell me.”

“Raven has declared war on Tellusun,” Saoirse reluctantly admitted. “Aurandel is preparing for battle.”

Rook breathed slowly, attempting to steady himself. "Why would she do this?"

“Hasana and the revolutionaries stole the Crown of Revelore.”

Rook let out a string of foul-mouthed curses, resuming his anxious pacing around the room. It all made sense now. The uprisings in Meysam and Bezhad should’ve told him all that he needed to know. Hasana had likely planned the heist for months, maybe even years. And he had led her right to the Crown. He remembered her face when she first saw the Crown in the library. He had shown her where it was hidden and revealed how she could access it. And then the Tellusun princess used the cover of the final trial to break into the Citadel and claim it for herself while everyone was distracted. It was all his fault.

“What will she do with it? Claim to be the rightful ruler of Revelore?" he ground out.

“She’s going to destroy it,” Saoirse replied.

Rook ran his fingers through his hair wearily, the weight of everything suddenly settling on his shoulders like a thousand stones. He couldn’t believe it, and yet the truth seemed impossible to deny. “So what happens now?” he whispered, finally daring to look her in the eyes. The tangle of emotions between them was complicated and indiscernible, muddling the chaos of the world around them even further. He hated her. He wanted her. He couldn’t trust her.

“We prepare for war. And hopefully you will join us.”

“You expect me to stand aside while the world challenges my sister and crushes my people?” he breathed. “I don’t trust Hasana or the rebellion, and neither should you.” He swept across the room again, his feathers agitated and his wings itching to take flight. “Don’t think for a second that Hasana does not have other plans for the Crown. There are always ulterior motives at play. There is always more.” He stared at her with heat in his eyes, heat like the burning coals of a fire. “You above anyone you should know that.”

She said nothing, merely crossing her arms. She didn’t so much as flinch at his loathing tone. After a heartbeat, she said, “I’m sure that Hasana is keeping secrets from me. No cunning ruler would lay all her cards on the table.” She stared back at him, her eyes bright with intensity. Bright with challenges and secrets of her own. “But I must take the risk. Even as we speak, Selussa is preparing to lay waste to my country and seize the remaining Relics. I can’t afford to hold Hasana and the radicals at arm’s length.” Her bright eyes grew cold and haunted. “I have lost everything. There is nothing holding me back.”

He believed her. In the depth of her eyes, sorrow churned like the white-foamed rapids of the Adonis River. If she wasn’t careful, those waves of despair would pull her under. And what she might become if she gave into the pull of that maelstrom gave him pause. A warrior with nothing to lose was someone to be afraid of. Someone incredibly dangerous. At that moment, he decided to relent. He would go along with her plans, align himself with the Princess Hasana of the Clay City and her radicals. He was alone here, a prisoner in a foreign land. He had little other choice.

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