Page 27 of From the Myths of Kings

“And we have many flaws too. It seems you may have an idealized version of our resistance in your head. Sure, we all want to topple the Tournament institution and see Aurandel’s power crumble, but there is still much dissent about what kind of governing system we should replace them with. And there are still deep-seated prejudices amongst our ranks. You saw the open mistrust many of our leaders still harbor for Rook and anyone else associated with Aurandel. We’re an imperfect lot.”

“Then I suppose I should fit right in.” Saoirse turned her gaze from the sea and faced the high-spirited crowd gathered on the central deck. Someone had brought out a stringed instrument and strummed a jaunty tune. The light notes drifted across the deck and slipped into the night air, bouncing off the waves like a skipping pebble. With the music playing, it made Neia and Rymir’s duel appear even more dance-like, their measured steps and lunges looking more like a stage performance than a fight.

“When did Hasana’s resistance begin anyway? Surely she’s not much older than I am. How has one so young earned the respect of so many and accomplished so much?”

“Actually, it was founded by her father, King Ohan, eight years ago. The same year Rook’s parents and your mother were killed. Their murders rocked Revelore to its core. King Ohan had always secretly railed against Aurandel’s absolutism, but in the wake of their murders, he became even more determined to unify our kingdoms. He started laying the groundwork for rebellion and weaving together a web of like-minded leaders who shared his dreams of an equal Revelore.”

Saoirse’s skin went cold at the mention of her mother’s death. She’d been a mere child at the time, but every grief-stricken sensation she’d felt in the days after the news broke was etched into her memory. Her father had done his best to shield her from the truth of what happened, but she had put the pieces together easily. King Grivur had been appalled the assassinations happened on Terradrin soil. His court’s formal position was that a rogue radical group had been responsible for the plot. The group had been promptly eradicated and its leaders arrested and tortured, but it scarcely made up for her mother’s brutal murder.

“Do you know much about the radical group that carried out the assassinations?” Saoirse asked.

“I wasn’t familiar with many of the details until Hasana took the helm for her father’s rebellion. It was necessary she study the failings of Ballar’s group if she wanted to lead her father’s rebellion to victory. Through Hasana, I learned about the former Terradrin general named Ballar Grimstone, the who had initially formed the resistance group several years before the incident. They were allegedly a peaceful sect up until the assassinations. They critiqued Grivur’s court and called for a reformation of the corrupted politics of the Under Kingdom, but they had no qualms with neighboring kingdoms. That was why the murders were so shocking. When the truth came out that Ballar’s followers had arranged the ambush and killed three Revelorian monarchs, Grivur took swift action to decimate the group. In my opinion, Grivur took such a staunch position out of a need to save face rather than out of any adoration for the dead.”

Saoirse had to agree with that theory. Grivur had always been seen as a weak ruler, and the murders had undermined his authority, proving that any dissenting group could wield true power in his lands. She knew he cared little for honor. Grivur’s campaign to root out Ballar’s followers had likely been a performative inquisition, even if it did eliminate the threat of more royal deaths.

“Why did King Ohan associate with Terradrin after Ballar’s rebellion? If he was so horrified by my mother’s murder, why would he reach out to the very people who utilized such violence to achieve their ends? Surely no one would want to conspire against Aurandel in the wake of what happened, especially given how obsessively King Grivur’s spies tracked down anyone associated with the assassination plot.” She found it hard to believe anyone in Terradrin would be willing to pledge their allegiances to another radical group after what happened, and found it even more unlikely a king would want to ally with people who’d killed powerful Revelorian royals in cold blood.

“It took a few years for King Ohan to contact Terradrin leaders,” Noora explained. “Terradrin was ruled by a paranoid king and controlled by a strict foreign occupation in the aftermath. Those in the Under Kingdom were reluctant to entertain the beliefs of another emerging radical group after the reign of terror Grivur had employed. Indeed, the vast majority vehemently opposed Ballar’s tactics and were ashamed such a tragedy had occurred within Terradrin. But Ohan was determined to form a rebellion not forged by violence or cruelty, but rather by a love for Revelore and a desire to see our kingdoms equal. He found his first and most crucial ally in a young Terradrin captain who had just lost her brother to the Tournament.”

Saoirse followed the direction of Noora’s pointed gaze, her eyes finding Neia’s willowy form as she crossed blades with the young captain. A wide smile was splayed across her face. It was the happiest she’d ever seen the commander look, that normally grim frown out of sight for now. If Ohan formed the resistance movement eight years ago, that would mean that Neia’s brother had competed in the same Tournament Raven had. How old was her brother when he’d lost his life? Memories of his death must’ve surfaced in Neia’s mind every time she looked at Raven or heard stories of the Queen’s Tournament victory. It must’ve been terrifying to volunteer herself as a tribute.

Saoirse still remembered the bone-chilling sorrow that slid over Neia as she leaned over the ladder in the second trial, tears erupting down her cheeks the moment she realized that her other companion hadn’t made it out of the Avgi spider’s nest. At that moment, had she been reminded of her brother’s death in his own Tournament a decade earlier?

“When I first learned Neia was a part of Hasana’s rebellion, I couldn’t believe it,” Saoirse said. “But knowing what she lost, I can understand why she’d take up arms against Terradrin.” Neia had formally been one of King Grivur’s most trusted commanders in the Under Kingdom. It just went to show that even the most unlikely individuals could harbor secrets in the capricious courts of Revelore. Anyone was capable of redemption…or betrayal.

“When Ohan grew ill and bedridden, Hasana assumed leadership in his stead,” Noora said proudly. “It was her idea to steal the Crown of Revelore during the Tournament. She believed it would be the first step in overthrowing Aurandel’s rule. By destroying the symbol of power that our nations were so desperate to fight tooth and nail for, she believed we could topple the institution of the Tournament itself and call Queen Raven’s authority into question.”

“I presume your rebellion also faked an uprising in Bezhad for that very same reason?” Saoirse mused. “I remember hearing there was an uprising in the Clay City just after the events in Meysam. It was all staged by Hasana, wasn’t it? A public demonstration that would be whispered about across the continent, planting seeds of doubt.”

“Exactly. We wanted to catch Aurandel’s attention and distract them from what we’ve been up to. All smoke and mirrors. Raven has always cared more about the illusion of peace than true cordiality. By crafting an uprising in Bezhad, we not only inspired cracks of doubt across Revelore but also in Raven herself. We hoped that by splitting her attention between Meysam and Bezhad, it would make our task of stealing the Crown all the easier.”

Oh, they had succeeded in shaking Raven. When she’d gathered all the kingdoms’ leaders in her tent during the Tournament, Saoirse had seen the fear behind her flinty eyes. Despite her best efforts to remain stalwart and intimidating, Raven had unwittingly shown Hasana that the rebellion’s staged uprisings were working. And when threatened, she became frenzied and made mistakes. Saoirse was surprised to feel pity for Rook’s sister. She was still so young and facing all this alone. She had done horrible things in the name of keeping the peace, yes, but she’d also been crowned queen when she was scarcely out of girlhood. She’d also been groomed by the Elders her entire life. It was difficult to imagine any other path for her.

They were silent for a long moment. The shush of waves lapping up the hull mingled with snatches of swordplay, wreathed by the blithe music dancing on the breeze.

“Well, Hasana has proved herself to be an extremely formidable leader,” Saoirse finally said. “Even if there are those among you who disagree with her decisions, their devotion to her is obvious. She will make a great queen one day.”

“Indeed,” Noora smiled, her eyes filling with affection. “Shall we toast to the great Princess Saoirse Kellamheart, the latest recruit to our cause?” She lifted her mug and cocked a dark eyebrow.

“I’m not sure we should toast to me just yet,” Saoirse countered wryly. “There is still lots of time left for me to prove my unworthiness. You may come to regret your decision to recruit me.” Despite her self-doubt, she raised her mug and knocked it on the side of Noora’s cup.

“Allow me to formally welcome you to the rebellion,” Noora offered as they toasted. “You’re one of us now. Aurelia told me it’s your nameday, right? Well, consider this my gift to you.”

The whistle of metal through the air followed by a sharp thump interrupted their toast. The crowd erupted into applause. Saoirse brought the mug down before taking a sip, turning to face the riotous crew. Through swaying bodies and celebratory cheers, she could see Neia staring up at her prodigy, defeated. Neia’s sword had flown halfway across the deck, skittering to a halt underneath a swinging lantern.

Rymir’s curved blade angled toward Neia’s throat, metal flashing under the hanging lights. The triumphant grin splayed across his face told Saoirse this was the first time he’d ever bested Neia. His mentor glared up from where she kneeled before him, chest heaving from the intensity of their sparring. Rymir swept his blade back into its scabbard with a flourish and offered a dramatic bow to the crowd.

“That’s how it’s done, wouldn’t you say?”

The crew whistled and cheered, raising their mugs as he prowled around the deck like a preening peacock.

“And so, the prodigy claims victory over his mentor! I’ve become your worst nightmare, Commander.”

Neia’s annoyance melted into pride as she watched him parade about the ship, a smile unfurling across her stern face. She shook her head as Rymir strode back over and offered his hand to her. She rolled her eyes as he pulled her up from the ground.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she warned. “The only reason you won is because I’d just fought a vicious Mer princess for an hour before. She weakened me.”

“Is that what you’ll tell yourself when you’re lying awake in bed tonight, replaying your humiliating defeat over and over again?”

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