Page 71 of From the Myths of Kings

“We’re here,” Sloane’s voice cut through Rook’s musings. “Remove their hoods.”

Rook’s stomach hollowed out. The third trial was already here. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as the black hood was jerked off his head. He felt a wave of relief when he saw the entrance to the Garden of Gods. Sloane had managed to convince her father to change the trial’s location. Their plan was off to a great start.

Finally, a bit of luck.

He instantly found Saoirse standing a few feet away from him, shackled in the same chains they were all accustomed to now. She returned his gaze and offered the barest hint of a smile. His heartbeat fluttered in his chest. Despite everything, the mere shadow of Saoirse’s smile made his heart soar. He adored the ferocity in her eyes, bright and unforgiving as a storm gathering on the horizon. He’d meant what he’d told her in the flooded cavern yesterday.

He would gladly drown in her fierce tide.

He regretfully tore his eyes from Saoirse to take in the sprawling entrance to the Garden of Gods. An ancient language was carved into the rough-hewn archway, the blocky letters rune-like and archaic. The shards of multi-colored gemstones embedded into the arched entrance sparkled as the torchlight drew near. Already, he could see fragments of glittering stone within the darkened cave, winking like coins at the bottom of the ocean.

He ran through the plan for the hundredth time, repeating it over and over until it was tattooed on the inside of his skull. Cross the chamber of agate. Make two left turns through the amethyst tunnels. At the first fork in the tunnels, take the right path and wait for Sloane and Tezrus at the wall of quartz.

Rook dragged his gaze away from the Garden of Gods, settling on the small group convened outside the crystal caves. Just like the last two trials, Grivur wore a gaudy robe of crimson trimmed with white fur that engulfed his doughy face. The king’s milk-pale eyes were even more bloodshot than they had been before, gleaming with a mad sheen that made Rook feel uneasy. Sloane took her usual place next to her father, but the customary timid slouch of her shoulders had faded. Instead of cowering, Sloane stood tall next to Grivur, true hope shining in her eyes. She was just as anxious to be free of the Under Kingdom as they were.

Tezrus stood next to Sloane, yet again donning purple Elder’s robes at Grivur’s behest. The robes were ill-fitting and loose, swallowing his wiry frame whole. Rook almost didn’t catch the near-imperceptible movement of Tezrus’s knobby hand settling on the cave’s entrance. Hidden in the folds of his overwhelming sleeves, Tezrus discreetly used his stone-singing abilities to feel out the winding caverns within the Garden of Gods. Rook prayed the old man could locate the Relic of Terradrin within the jungle of crystals. Once they all met at the rendezvous point, they’d have only minutes to search.

“The time has finally come to face your third trial, tributes,” Grivur began. “I can’t say I’m pleased you all have survived thus far. I’d hoped there might’ve been some bloodshed by now. But don’t worry, there’s still time for that,” he said gleefully, his pallid cheeks going ruddy as though the thought of spilled blood thrilled him. Grivur turned unfocused eyes onto Rook, a slow smile splitting his face.

“I’m glad you’re still alive, princeling. Your sister has offered a large sum for your safe return home. If you’d died in the previous trials, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to sell you back to the Iron Queen.”

Rook went cold. How had Raven learned of his capture in the Under Kingdom?

“Naturally, I refused her coin,” Grivur continued. “You cannot forfeit the Tournament after surviving this long now, can you? If you come out alive after this trial, I’ll ship you back to Coarinth in exchange for your sister’s extraordinarily large compensation. But tempting as her offer is, I think I might enjoy seeing you die in this trial even more than feeling my coffers grow heavy with her coin.”

“You’re a monster,” Rook hissed before he could stop himself. Grivur spoke as nonchalantly about his death as he would a prized racehorse. “And you’re a fool. If you think there won’t be consequences for your insolence, you don’t know my sister very well.” Either that or Grivur’s paranoia had warped his mind so much he no longer recognized he was making an enormous mistake by refusing Raven’s offering. Raven didn’t allow people to refuse her. She only gave them the illusion of autonomy while pulling the strings from afar. She was likely already on her way with a full battalion of Aerials, prepared to tear down the entire Under Kingdom to find Rook.

“I’m no more a fool than you, princeling,” Grivur returned, his face growing even redder underneath building splotches of rage. “How could a captain of the Aerials turn from his kingdom so quickly? Only a simple-minded fool would betray his homeland and legacy so easily.” He shifted his glassy eyes to Saoirse, a sneer forming on his colorless lips. “I suppose the Mer siren is quite lovely, though. It only took a few nights between the sheets with this Mer princess to change your tune and join the rebellion. I hope she was worth it.”

Rook lurched in his chains, hands folding into fists on instinct. “Don’t talk about her that way!” He bit back a cry of pain when his chains were jerked backward, his knees scraping along the stone floor. A fist flew into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Saoirse flinched, fingers bunching in the folds of her tunic as though she had to hold herself back from attacking the underguard who’d just struck him.

“This foolish infatuation has made you blind,” Grivur tsked, his annoyance overt. “Infatuation with a Mer harlot. Infatuation with a romantic notion of revolution even though you’ve had everything handed to you on a gilded platter your whole life. I’m sure your sister is so ashamed of you. And you,” he said, turning his focus to Neia. “You’re as much a fool as this young Auran princeling. You threw your life away over a cause that will end in burning flames. You tossed aside an esteemed military career to act as a puppet for a dying king and a naive princess who fancies herself a revolutionary.” He swung his bloodshot gaze around, surveying all four of them with blatant disgust. Hasana’s golden eyes smoldered with fire, but she remained quiet, jaw working as her teeth ground together. There was no point arguing with a delusional king and jeopardizing the plan when they were so close to escape.

“It’s time you all pay for your crimes against Revelore.” Grivur’s bulging eyes darted over to Tezrus. He thrust a parchment scroll into the old man’s hands. “Master of Trials, would you tell our tributes about their final trial?”

Tezrus inhaled slowly, a hollow rattle that took a startling amount of effort. He unrolled the parchment and scanned the instructions for the third game. “Each of you has been tasked with finding a Bloodstone, the rarest of all gems within the Garden of Gods,” he began. He looked up from the scroll and began intentionally going off script: “Only the most talented stone-singers can locate them within the earth, as Bloodstones are notoriously quiet jewels. They do not want to be found. Veins of Bloodstone give off hardly any song whatsoever. Upon their initial discovery centuries ago, Bloodstones were said to have been tears in the earth, bleeding wounds ripped through the rock by those who dwell in the Underworld.”

Just as they’d discussed the night before, Tezrus was stalling, buying time as his hand continued to send ripples of invisible magic through the stone at his back. “They say tracts of Bloodstone are only found at the lowest levels of the earth, fault lines between the planes of existence. To locate a tear of glittering crimson is to find an entrance into the Underworld. It is the thinnest point between worlds and the easiest way to break through the veil?”

“Enough about geology, old man,” Grivur interrupted. “Cut to the chase and adhere to the script.” For someone so anxious to have a Master of Trials for his replication of the Tournament, Grivur didn’t seem keen on hearing the specifics of their task. Rook could practically see Grivur salivating over their impending deaths, so eager was he to send them into the lethal garden.

Tezrus frowned, thin skin twisting like crumpled parchment at the corners of his mouth. Another labored breath whispered past his lips as he sucked in more air. It was evident even a few minutes of stone-singing had required a significant amount of energy from the old man. He’d had to send his magic into a jungle of crystals that extended for miles into the earth, probing through the rock and sifting through different chords of sound and vibration, searching for traces of the Moonstone Shard. A sheen of perspiration beaded on his forehead with the effort. Rook suddenly grew concerned the old man might not have enough strength to guide them through the garden with his magic. He seemed nearly depleted, and they hadn’t even made it through the threshold yet. After they located the Relic, they still needed to free Eleyera in the flooded tunnels and escape up to the surface.

“Each of you must retrieve a Bloodstone and bring it back through the garden gates,” Tezrus continued after Grivur’s admonishment. He gestured at the stone archway with his free hand. His other gnarled hand was still splayed against the cave entrance, enveloped by the fabric of his robes. “If you have retrieved the incorrect gemstone, the wards embedded into the garden’s gate will not let you pass. As I said, Bloodstone is exceedingly difficult to find. Many jewels look the same in a certain light and many counterfeit variations of Bloodstone may trick you. You’ll identify true Bloodstone by its temperature. Bloodstone is cold to the touch, chilled as ice.”

“If you carry the wrong gemstone through the garden gates, you’ll die,” Grivur cut in gleefully, the red veins of his eyes near to bursting. “You’ll fall dead right on the threshold.” He clapped his bejeweled hands together and barked out a laugh.

What Grivur didn’t reveal was that the gates had been warded so anyone who tried to leave the Garden of Gods would be killed. This idea had been a stroke of genius on Hasana’s part. When they’d planned the ideal trial yesterday, they’d thought about the best ways to whet Grivur’s bloodlust. They’d decided the inevitable conclusion of their deaths needed to be central to their plan for him to take the bait. Hasana had suggested the wards would kill anyone who attempted to exit back out the gates, whether they had found a true Bloodstone or not. Grivur didn’t just want them to die; he wanted them to believe they had a chance at beating his trials. He was just as amused with mind games as any physical challenge. This would also serve as a deterrent should any underguards attempt to follow them in. They would all be very aware of the fact they would be signing their death warrants if they chased after them. If only the mad king knew the entire trial had been conceived by the tributes themselves.

“May glory be given,” Neia muttered through clenched teeth.

Grivur turned to Neia, cocking his head like a predator who’d caught a glimpse of prey in the underbrush. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you about the ship my new commander found anchored just beyond the eastern coastline.”

Hasana’s golden eyes widened with shock, and she jerked her head as though slapped. Against her will, shimmering light began collecting in her shackled palms.

Rook tensed, a spear of fear bursting through his chest. The last time he’d seen Adresin and Noora on the ship’s deck surfaced in his mind. They’d both been drenched with the relentless rain, anxiously awaiting Saoirse and Hasana’s return. He should’ve insisted they leave the coastline the minute he went to go find the missing party. He could’ve saved them.

“I was surprised to learn a Tellusun merchant ship had been anchored offshore. I didn’t think the rebellion was foolish enough to stay in one place for so long. Fortunately, Commander Barrow alerted me to their presence after the first trial began. It was quite easy to storm the ship and take control, what with half the crew injured below decks. If the Auran princeling dies in the next trial, it won’t be a total waste. The Iron Queen was not happy to learn of her brother’s involvement in my Tournament, but I’ll make it up to her with a worthy gift. She will be pleased to receive a new shipload of prisoners of war. Especially those who are so close to the rebel princess.” He threw a pointed glance at Hasana, lip curled into a sneer.

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