Page 37 of From the Myths of Kings

Saoirse’s insides went molten as she followed the Terradrin leaders to the rowboat prepared for them. They’d anchored the ship behind an outcropping of rocks several leagues away from the shore, hidden from view. The eastern coast of Terradrin was not as closely guarded, Rymir had assured them. Thanks to the rocky coastline, pounding surf, and dangerous tides, few made landfall on this side. Detached arches of rock snaked through the shallows like the tail of a sea serpent, posing a lethal threat to any ships that dared sail through the choppy waves. Steep bluffs and cliffs had risen above sea level as violent waves broke along the shore for thousands of years. A plethora of sea caves had formed in such bluffs, eroding into countless tunnels like moth-ridden garments. It was in one of these secret caves where they were to rendezvous with Terradrin rebels who would smuggle them into the Under Kingdom. Sure enough, a torchlight signal glowed distantly on the shoreline, indicating they were ready to receive them.

Rymir helped each of them into the suspended swaying rowboat that would take them ashore. They filed into the boat, their small party numbering only five in total. The smaller the group, the more easily they’d go unnoticed.

Noora scanned the coastline from the quarterdeck with a heavy spyglass, making one last sweep of the land before climbing in behind them, a quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder and her bow flush against her side. “You’re safe to go. Come back as quick as you can.” It was obvious that letting Hasana go alone was exceedingly difficult for the archer, who’d rarely left her side for the past ten years as her personal guard.

“We will,” Hasana promised, her golden eyes burning. “We’ll return soon.” Unspoken words passed between the two. Saoirse was reminded of Aurelia’s final words before she boarded the ship for Terradrin: I love you. I’ll see you soon. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Once they were all settled, Adresin began lowering them down into the waves. It had been decided that he, alongside the rest of their crew, would keep watch over their ship and maintain a low profile while they stole the Under Kingdom’s Relic.

“May glory be given,” Adresin called as their small boat descended into the choppy sea.

May glory be given. Saoirse had heard the phrase during the Tournament more times than she could count. It was fitting that he’d wish them luck as they descended into the underbelly of Revelore, as close to the Underworld as the living could get.

17

SAOIRSE

Free of the ropes and bobbing safely alongside the ship, they picked up their oars and began rowing through the darkness. After a few minutes, Saoirse’s arms burned with the effort. Keeping their boat on course was no small task as the restless tide pushed and pulled against them like a swinging pendulum. The eastern coast lived up to its reputation as their small rowboat lurched from side to side, narrowly missing pillars of jagged rock that jutted out from the gloomy waves.

“Steady,” Neia warned as their boat crested a particularly sharp wave. Saoirse’s stomach clenched as they dipped weightlessly into the water, her hands tightening around the oars as a spray of seawater sloshed into their boat.

The dim torchlight on the shore grew brighter as they picked their way through the labyrinth of sea stacks. Sweat slicked Saoirse’s palms as she continued rowing, her eyes combing over the choppy waves for any hidden pillars of rock that might impale their hull before they even knew it was there.

Her pulse quickened when they clipped another finger of stone. For a moment, she thought their vessel might be overturned as it lurched sideways, but by some miracle, it remained afloat. Hasana clung to the wooden bench with a white-knuckled grasp, Tezrus braced similarly beside her as they grazed another ridge of hidden rock.

Gradually, the distant coastal cliffs became more defined in the darkness. Sea caves of varying sizes ate away at the cliffs’ bedrock, forming arched holes in the stone that reminded Saoirse of rotting wood. They aimed for the jagged opening glowing with torchlight, at last free of the murky maze.

“We need to hurry,” Neia ordered when their boat passed under the archways. The sea cave’s walls shone with glowing moss and slick algae. “This cave will be flooded with the tide soon.”

They drifted down the small corridor of eroded rock, following the light emanating from a small embankment. Three hooded figures materialized in the faint torchlight, their identities hidden under scarves pulled up to their eyes. Two of the figures waded into the shallow water and began hauling their rowboat up the rocky embankment.

“Glad you made it,” huffed one of the masked rebels once they’d dragged the boat to safety. His voice was a warm baritone that echoed pleasantly through the chamber. He pulled down his scarf to reveal a moon-pale complexion and angular features. A lock of bone-white hair settled over one of his milky eyes.

Neia clapped the man on the shoulder, a grin cutting across her stern face. “It’s good to see you, Ezra. Thank you for being here.” She turned back toward their small party and explained, “Ezra was one of my captains. From the moment he joined my company, he always had a knack for disobeying my orders. I knew he’d serve the rebellion well, given his incapacity to follow the rules and shirk his duties to the empire.”

“It’s good to see you too, Commander,” Ezra laughed. He turned toward the rest of their party, eyes glinting in the torchlight. “And look who else is here: pretty boy himself!” He slapped Rymir on the back so hard the sound echoed through the small chamber.

“And you must be Hasana,” Ezra said, bowing to the Tellusun princess. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“There’s no need for that,” she admonished gently. “It is I who should be thanking you. I know how much you’ve risked to aid us. Thank you. All of you.” She looked expectantly at the other two volunteers.

“Introductions are in order,” Ezra announced. He turned to his two companions and started with the one who had helped pull their boat ashore. “This is my brother, Xander.”

Xander pulled his mask down to his chin, uncovering a jaw that was softer than his brother’s. A pale scar threaded through one pale eyebrow and cut across his cheek. A leather eye patch was secured over his left eye.

Ezra turned to the one who stood on the embankment holding torches. “That’s Larken, our stone-singer.” The small woman caught herself before bowing to Hasana, settling instead on a respectful nod.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Saoirse said, coming to stand next to Hasana and Neia. Her boots crunched loudly against the grainy sediment. For a moment, the three Terradrin rebels stared blankly at Saoirse.

“You’re Mer,” Ezra observed, eyes skimming over her shimmering scales. His tone was thick with disbelief, as though she was some mythological creature that had come to life. The idea of a Mer joining their cause was just as unlikely, apparently.

“Not just any Mer,” Neia amended. “Princess Saoirse Kellamheart of Elorshin, Daughter of the Sea.” Ezra balked at Saoirse, his mouth going slack. Behind him, the two other Terradrin rebels appeared equally astounded.

“How is this possible?”

“It’s a long story. I met Hasana and Neia during the Tournament. I agree with their cause and want to see our world reborn. A world in which we are all equals and there is no Tournament pitting us against each other.” Saoirse left out the part about where she was the one who freed Selussa and, consequently, the reason why they were here to steal the Relic from the Under Kingdom in the first place.

Ezra considered her for a long moment. Wavering torchlight danced along the sharp planes of his face, catching on the downturned corners of his mouth. “You trust her, Commander?”

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