Chapter 23
23
SAOIRSE
L ocked in Grivur’s windowless dungeon, Saoirse had no idea how many days had passed since the mock ‘banquet’ Grivur had hosted for them. As she lay on the cold floor, she couldn’t guess what time of day it was. The underguards brought them food so irregularly it was difficult to discern which meal was delivered.
Saoirse stared up at the stone ceiling and tried to guess how many levels they were below the surface. Her eyes traced over the stalactites dripping down from the low prison ceiling. A single droplet of water splashed on her cheek. So far, she’d counted seventy-five droplets splashing onto her face. With thirty seconds passing between each drip, it was the easiest thing she could use to measure how much time had passed.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
The waiting was the worst part of their confinement. The absurdity of their impending trials loomed thickly over the prison block. At any point, the underguards might retrieve them from their cells and the games would begin. A knot of anxiety had begun to burn in Saoirse’s stomach as the days slipped by. King Grivur hadn’t spoken a word to them since their ‘tribute’s banquet,’ and so far, the underguards hadn’t given any indication anyone from Hasana’s rebellion had come searching for them. But she knew the day of Grivur’s games would eventually arrive. And when it did, she’d be forced to relive the Tournament all over again.
Splash . Splash. Splash.
Saoirse turned over and felt the droplets of water slide down her face. She stared at the bucket of titansblood that sat against the iron bars of her cell. The underguards had reluctantly given her more of the potion after she’d run out of her personal stores. When she’d finally convinced them that in a matter of hours, she’d be writhing on the floor unable to breathe, they’d scrounged up some mangrove and willowherb and allowed Hasana to make the concoction for her. She wasn’t sure why the herbs were here in the Under Kingdom, given they were native to the Maeral Sea and had no other use aside from allowing Mer to breathe on land, but she was too weary to question it. She didn’t need as much of the elixir down here as she’d needed in the Shujaa Desert. With cloudy droplets clinging to the cool walls and floor, the air was laden with moisture. Even so, she’d needed to convince the guards that Grivur wouldn’t have his tribute from Elorshin if she died of suffocation.
Beyond the iron bars of her cage, Tezrus was huddled in the corner of his own cell. Despite Larken’s promise that the prison walls had been warded against magic, Tezrus had initially attempted to use his stone-singing abilities to free them. But he’d stopped trying when it became obvious no amount of willpower would make the stone listen to him. She watched as Tezrus sat cross-legged in the shadows, tracing indiscernible shapes and runes in the dust to occupy himself.
Saoirse felt an immense amount of guilt at the sight of his stooped shoulders and hollow eyes. He was an elderly scholar, not an adventurer. And their voyage had taken a toll on him. She could see it in the way his breaths rattled his chest and the way his sallow skin had somehow grown paler. Although Tezrus had willingly volunteered himself, she still felt responsible for his fate. Did the old man regret coming with them to Terradrin? If he could turn back time, would he return to the Soundless Oasis and live out his days in peace?
Saoirse tore her gaze away from Tezrus and rolled over onto her back, resuming her mindless counting of droplets from the ceiling. As she turned over, she felt something hard against her hip bone. Expecting to uncover a stubborn pebble under her bedroll, Saoirse was surprised to find the small vial of Selussa’s blood in her pocket. She sat up quickly. She’d completely forgotten that she’d tucked the small obsidian flask into her pocket before they’d left for the Under Kingdom. Just as Hasana had sent the Tellusun Relic with Kaja for safekeeping, Saoirse hadn’t wanted to leave the vial on the ship. She turned the small cylindrical container between her palms.
Selussa’s eerie voice echoed through her head: Blood is more valuable than gold. It can unlock doors and seal promises. It can bring great fortune and favor, but it can be spilled so easily . Her great-grandfather’s blood had once locked Selussa away within the Fretum. When Saoirse had given her own blood to Selussa as a seal of their bargain, the Sea Witch had used it to free herself from the ancient prison and shapeshift. Did Selussa’s own blood hold any kind of power they could use against her?
Saoirse crept over to the wall of iron bars she shared with Tezrus. The obsidian vial thrummed in her hand as though it were alive.
“Tezrus,” she whispered. “Are you up for conversation?” She curled her fingers around the bars and leaned in.
None of them had exchanged many words in the days following Grivur’s negligible banquet. It seemed futile to discuss strategy or conjure up escape plans given they had no idea where their prison block was in the Under Kingdom. Tezrus in particular had been as silent as the grave, choosing to draw strange symbols on the dusty floor for hours on end. Saoirse didn’t blame him.
The old man jerked toward her as though he’d been roused from a trance. He relaxed when he found her staring at him between the iron slats. “Saoirse.” His reedy voice sounded even thinner. He crawled over to the wall of bars they shared and settled heavily against the iron.
“How are you feeling?” Saoirse scanned his pallid skin and the dark circles under his eyes.
“I’ve been better,” the old man replied. A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. It seemed his wry sarcasm hadn’t been completely lost.
“I’m so sorry we involved you in this. I feel responsible.”
His pale eyes darted to hers. “No, this isn’t your fault,” he admonished gently. “I knew the risks when I joined your voyage. I made this decision knowing I might die.” He patted her curled fingers reassuringly. “And I know that all this,” he gestured to the prison block, “might be the worst fate we could’ve imagined for ourselves, but it isn’t. We’re lucky the Terradrin Elders never returned to the Under Kingdom. Had they fled Coarinth after the Tournament, they would’ve tortured me for evading them all these years. And as mad as Grivur has become, they would’ve made these ‘games’ much worse for you, that much I’m sure of.”
“What do you think the Elders are up to in Coarinth?” Saoirse asked. Something was unsettling about their absence. With their mistress finally freed after a century of imprisonment, she doubted the Order would hide idly away in their temple. She suspected they were advising Raven on her next moves against the rebellion, but they must also be working toward some other, unseen goal.
Tezrus pondered her question a moment, his wax-pale lips drooping into a contemplative frown. “They could be doing any number of things. When I became an Elder and was finally privy to their scheming, there wasn’t much discussion about what would happen after she was released, aside from the Titans being resurrected. Despite our fervor and devotion to the cause, I don’t think any of us truly imagined we’d be successful. I’m sure they fleshed out their plans after I escaped, but I don’t have any solid theories.”
“They successfully summoned Selussa a century ago. Do you think they might be trying to summon something else?” Saoirse’s mind raced with the possibilities. There was still so much she didn’t know. Were there others like Selussa? Were there more god-like creatures from the Myths of Old that had yet to reveal themselves? What was Selussa?
“It’s possible,” Tezrus mused. “There are a few things trapped in the Underworld that the Order may be attempting to free.”
Saoirse’s skin prickled at the mere mention of the Underworld. She was still struggling to comprehend the supernatural plane of myth was even real in the first place. She knew next to nothing about the fabled abyss. She pulled out the vial of Selussa’s blood. The obsidian flask thrummed against her palm.
“Tezrus, what do you make of this?” She offered the small vial to him through the bars.
The old man’s eyes widened as he took the dark flask. “What is it filled with?”
“Selussa’s blood. When I made the bargain with her, we exchanged vials of each other’s blood as a symbol of our agreement.”
Tezrus almost dropped the vial. “Selussa’s blood ?” He sucked in a thin breath and carefully inspected the flask, touching it as little as possible. “How curious,” he breathed. “It almost feels alive.”
“I’m not sure why I kept it all this time,” Saoirse said, leaning against the iron bars. “I should’ve thrown it in the sea, but I just can’t shake the feeling that there might be a greater purpose for it. Maybe we could somehow use it against her?”
Tezrus was silent for a long time. He held up the vial to his ear and listened. “Very strange indeed,” he mumbled, almost to himself. Saoirse could practically see his scholar’s mind turning behind his eyes, mind thumbing through a hidden catalog of ancient texts he’d memorized long ago, searching for an elusive answer.
“Blood magic is a powerful thing,” he said, tilting the vial in the light. The slick obsidian caught the wavering torchlight, an oily sheen eerily similar to the blood inside it. “Selussa used your blood to shapeshift into your likeness. She did the same with Yrsa a hundred years ago, when she took the Auran princess’s place and killed King Lorsan.”
“She also used my blood to free herself from the Fretum too,” Saoirse added. “My great grandfather Isandros created an impenetrable binding enchantment with his own blood. Only his heirs would be able to unlock the Fretum and free anything inside.”
“Hmm,” Tezrus mused. He tugged on the thin strands of his beard thoughtfully, eyes bright with curiosity. She imagined a thousand theories whirring through his mind. “Throughout history, blood magic has been known to create gateways and unlock doors that should remain closed. One drop of blood from a divine being is no small thing. A vial of it has got to mean something. I’ll have to think more about its uses.”
“Has Selussa always relied on bargains to get her way?”
“Oh yes. Her most enduring quality has been her disposition for trickery. But for her, the true prize has always been the exchange of blood. I’m sure she was desperate for Rook’s dagger, but she was hungrier for your blood than anything else. She would’ve stolen the blade from the Auran prince one way or another, but your blood was the key to her master plan. She wasn’t after the dagger so much as she was after your very essence.”
Saoirse shivered at the thought. She’d been so foolish to make that bargain with Selussa. She’d known nothing of blood magic or shapeshifting at the time. The Myths of Old had been the farthest thing from her mind that day in the Fretum. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so desperate for the Crown, to make Aurandel pay for their crimes, she would’ve seen how crafty the Sea Witch was and never made that foolhardy bargain.
“Would you keep it safe for me during the trials?” She asked. “If?if something were to happen to me, I don’t want to lose it.”
Tezrus’s eyes softened. “Nothing will happen to you, child. You’re a warrior. I know you’ll survive this. But yes, I can keep it safe for you. I’ll continue pondering its properties in the meantime. If only I had my entire library at my disposal…” His voice turned wistful as he thought of the ancient tomes he’d left in the Oasis.
A sudden question occurred to her. “Is Selussa from the Underworld? What exactly… is she?”
She remembered when she’d asked Selussa the very same question in her tent the morning of the final trial. The Sea Witch’s unnerving, toothy grin was burned into her memory forever as she said: I took on Yrsa’s flesh and married Lorsan in her stead. But I am not Auran by nature. You’ll have to determine what I am on your own, Princess .
“No. She is not from the Underworld, I’m afraid.”
Saoirse inclined her head. “But why would she be summoned from the Underworld if she is not originally from there?”
“Because she was banished to that primordial abyss long ago, sealed in a state of purgatory since the first war between the Four Kinsmen and the Titans. She was released from her Helish banishment a hundred years ago, only to land herself right back in prison after failing to collect the Relics the first time.”
“Where does Selussa hail from then? Who trapped her there?”
Tezrus gave her a long, heavy look. “She hails from the Maeral Sea, or as it was known in her time, the Maeryle Sea.”
Saoirse blinked in disbelief. She felt her mouth go dry. Selussa was originally Mer? Or at least, some divine version of Mer?
Tezrus read the shock on her face and explained, “There were once two oceanic kingdoms in the ancient days: Elor-Wyn and Anthemoessa. Elor-Wyn became the Mer kingdom of Elorshin, your kingdom. Anthemoessa was all but destroyed during the first war. Selussa was the Queen of Anthemoessa. She was granted a people and a kingdom by her Titanic sibling, Charybdis.”
Saoirse struggled not to let her jaw hang open. A second kingdom in the Maeral Sea? She couldn’t say why, but her mind immediately leaped to her limited knowledge of the mythical creatures that supposedly lived at the dawn of time: sirens. All at once, her previous conversations with Selussa snapped into place like a string pulled taut. Memories of their discussion in Selussa’s cave surfaced in her mind. The Sea Witch had called Saoirse a ‘siren’ when she agreed to Selussa’s terms of the bargain.
Forgive me for doubting your word, but I have always struggled to believe promises from the mouths of sirens.
At the time, Saoirse didn’t understand why the Sea Witch had used such obsolete language. She’d thought Selussa’s words to be the ramblings of a mad woman who’d lost her mind after a century of imprisonment in the cursed waters of the Fretum. Could Selussa’s people have been the sirens? Even as pieces of understanding slipped into place, more questions were stirred up in her mind like silt off the ocean floor. What had caused Anthemoessa’s collapse? Why didn’t Selussa trust her own people? Were the sea monsters that she released from the Fretum the former subjects of Selussa’s oceanic kingdom?
“Is that where sirens came from?” she asked.
Tezrus gave her a grave nod. Saoirse felt dizzy as more questions darted through her mind. She tightened her grip on the iron bars and tried to calm herself.
“I know how you feel,” Tezrus said through the haze of her thoughts. “It was overwhelming when I first learned the truth. Even as someone who studied the Myths of Old obsessively, it was a shock for me to learn about Selussa and her long-lost kingdom.”
“What happened to Anthemoessa? To the sirens?”
“The Four Kinsmen offered an alliance to the sirens, which they initially accepted. However, they sided with the Titans in the end and betrayed the Four Kinsmen. Queen Basilia of the Mer was killed as a direct result of their betrayal. It is said that after the sirens allied themselves with the Titans, they lost their kingdom to endless fire as penance for their betrayal of the mortal world. They all but went extinct, vanishing after the war.”
“So is Selussa trying to bring Anthemoessa back from extinction?” That seemed like a very real possibility. Was that the ultimate reason why Selussa wanted to resurrect the Titans? Did she require their help to restore her former kingdom?
Before Tezrus could elaborate further, the barred door at the prison’s entrance screeched open. He hastily tucked the vial of Selussa’s blood into his tunic. Saoirse had been sitting so still she jolted at the harsh shriek of rusted hinges. She scurried back from the iron bars and huddled in the shadowy corner of her cell. Her heart was thundering against her ribs, but not from fear of the unexpected horde of underguards swarming the prison block like flies to a carcass. She still was reeling from everything Tezrus had disclosed. How had the kingdom of Anthemoessa faded so quickly from Revelore’s memory? She supposed it had been forgotten in the same way the Myths of Old had tarnished over time. But it felt like there was more to the story, some elusive piece she was missing. The omission of Anthemoessa from history almost seemed…deliberate.
All thoughts of Selussa and her ancient kingdom scattered when the throng of guards pushed a hooded figure through the doorway. Between the oscillating torchlight and the frenzied crowd of stone-colored uniforms, it was difficult to make out any details of their latest prisoner. They passed under a wavering sconce on the wall and the hooded figure was temporarily illuminated. Saoirse’s blood ran cold.
No. No. No.
She would know those pale gray wings anywhere. Rook.
She scrubbed at her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Sure enough, the flock of underguards shoved a hooded Rook down the prison block. His wrists were bound in thick chains that swayed with every unstable step forward. One of the underguards unlocked an empty cell next to Hasana’s and her stomach dropped.
Saoirse almost cried out his name, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t want any of them to know how much he meant to her. She hadn’t yet experienced the full cruelty of Grivur’s madness, but she didn’t want to give him any more fodder for his upcoming games. She couldn’t afford for Rook to be used against her in any way. Instead, she bit down harder on her tongue as they forced him into the awaiting cell. He fell on hands and knees, chains clattering on the stone floor. The dark hood was ripped from his head.
No. Why did you come?
Emotion thickened in her throat when she took in the sight of his familiar, painfully beautiful face. Her eyes traced over his marble-hewn jawline and full lips, lips she’d dreamed about every night since she’d last seen him in the hanging gardens of Bezhad. Her eyes halted their exploration of his face when she noticed the deep strokes of color under his eyes, so dark they were almost bruise-like. His normally tanned skin appeared sallow in the dim light. His cheekbones were sharper than they had been the last time she’d seen him, making his face appear gaunt.
But his piercing blue eyes were the same.
The world became muddled and hazy as Saoirse continued to stare at Rook, a mixture of relief and horror welling in her chest like a flooded tidepool. The underguards became mere blurs through the shadows as they left the prison block. Time warped and slowed when he finally looked up and met her eyes. That invisible thread between them tightened. She could feel his gaze like a chill on her skin.
“ Saoirse .”
Her name was a rasp on his tongue. He crept toward the iron bars of his cell, his heavy wings dragging against the floor like he was stranded in the Shujaa Desert, and she was the water he’d been waiting for. The relief in his eyes was apparent as he gazed at her across the cell block. His earnest concern cut through her heart like a knife. He’d been worried for her. She suddenly couldn’t speak.
The last of the underguards finally exited the prison and the barred door slammed closed behind them, leaving the cell block in silence. Rook broke Saoirse’s gaze and turned to find Hasana kneeling next to the cell wall they shared.
“You look awful,” Hasana whispered. Her tone wasn’t one of callous judgement, but rather that of an evaluating Healer who’d just received a new patient. Her eyes began to glow as she scanned his waxen appearance. But the light shining in her palms slowly faded when she remembered the prison block was warded against magic. Even if she wanted to heal Rook, her ministrations wouldn’t work here.
“I know,” Rook answered. His voice was threaded with exhaustion. He ran a hand through his damp hair. It must’ve been raining hard on the surface if he was that drenched. “It’s gotten worse.”
Saoirse remembered the scabbed-over injury he’d shown her that night in the hanging gardens, how the flesh around the stab wound was darkened with black spiderwebbing veins. If his outward appearance had changed this much, she could only imagine how much pain he was wrestling with. The horrifying realization that he’d have to compete in Grivur’s “trials” in this condition dawned on her. How would he be expected to survive?
“How did you end up here?” Neia asked from her cell. “Where is Aurelia?”
Saoirse was grateful Neia had vocalized the question. For some reason, her tongue still felt stiff in her mouth, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Perhaps she was merely rattled by all Tezrus had revealed about Selussa, but she suspected she was more overwhelmed with Rook’s sudden appearance and all the complicated emotions he dredged up.
“We flew to Raj’s Point as originally planned. Something was clearly wrong when your ship failed to appear in the harbor. It took some convincing, but Aurelia permitted me to search for you along the eastern coast of Terradrin.”
“You flew all the way here by yourself?” Hasana sounded appalled. “You could’ve died , Rook. We don’t know what sickness ails you nor how quickly it’s advancing. You may very well have accelerated the illness’s spread by exhausting your energy in coming here.”
Rook almost looked sheepish under her scolding. “I wasn’t planning on saving you all on my own. I was only trying to figure out what happened before I returned to Aurelia for aid. It would’ve been too dangerous for both of us to scout the area. It was better for me to go alone. Or so we thought.” He cast his gaze around the prison block as if noticing it for the first time. “What happened to you ? How long have you been imprisoned?”
“You’ve made a grave mistake in coming here,” Neia warned. “Our Terradrin contacts betrayed us the second we arrived. Rymir betrayed us. They turned us over to Grivur immediately.” Her voice was still laced with fresh hurt. “Grivur has fallen to paranoia and madness. The uprising in Meysam and the Tournament’s collapse disturbed him so deeply he executed most of his inner circle of advisors and cast out his court. He thinks everyone is against him. Even Queen Raven. He’s locked himself in the Under Kingdom and refuses to send his soldiers to her.”
“Hel’s teeth.” Rook dragged his gaze along the rugged stone ceiling as if searching for answers. “I met with Raven only days ago. She did not indicate that Grivur was ignoring her call for military mobilization. Initially, he sided with Aurandel and declared war on Tellusun. Something must’ve changed Grivur’s mind.”
“You met with Raven?” Hasana cut in. A veil of distrust slipped over her eyes.
“Yes,” Rook admitted. “It isn’t what you think, though. I arranged to meet with her because I thought I could convince her to join our cause. I thought we could ally with Aurandel to stop Selussa, to form a united front against her.” He shook his head and lowered his eyes. “But I quickly learned it was a fool’s hope. Raven is under the thumb of the Order. They’re whispering in her ear and “advising” her on the next steps. They’ve turned her against me entirely. Even as her brother, I couldn’t convince her of Selussa’s threat.”
Seeing the defeated slump of Rook’s shoulders was enough to free Saoirse’s tongue. “I’m so sorry, Rook.” She couldn’t imagine the emotions he was feeling. His only sister had chosen to believe the word of conniving acolytes over the voice of her own brother. After everything they’d been through together, Raven’s rejection was probably more heart-wrenching than even their parent’s deaths. “That must be excruciating for you.”
Rook’s eyes snapped up to hers. To her surprise, the corners of his lips upturned into a soft, mournful smile.
“Thank you for saying that.” Gratitude touched his eyes.
There was something different about his gaze now. When he’d left her in the hanging gardens, Rook had been shuttered off. Unnamed emotions had swum in the depths of his eyes, locked stubbornly away. Now, his bright gaze seemed more open and earnest even as his physical body was deteriorating. She found herself smiling back at him. Heat crawled into her cheeks. What was wrong with her? They were locked in a Titans-forsaken prison and being forced to compete in a ridiculous second-rate Tournament that would likely claim their lives. There was nothing to be smiling about. But seeing the softness of his gaze had sent her pulse hammering in her throat. Maybe Aurelia had talked some sense into him, after all. She tended to let people know what they needed to hear whether they asked for it or not.
“As adorable as this little reunion is, my point still stands,” Neia interrupted, “You’ve made a grave mistake in coming here.”
Saoirse’s already hot cheeks became more inflamed. Did she look that besotted? She averted her eyes and suddenly found a very interesting pebble on the ground.
“She’s right,” Hasana confirmed. “Grivur’s delusions and paranoia have led him to come up with a bizarre form of punishment for us. He’s decided that the Tournament’s botched ending needs to be atoned for. He’s taken it upon himself to host a series of games?his own version of the Tournament if you will. He wanted one representative from each kingdom to play.”
Rook’s face morphed from confusion into absolute horror as he processed her words, his eyebrows raising to his hairline. “Grivur wanted me to come.” It was more of a statement than an actual question. “I’ve fallen right into his trap.”At everyone’s silence, his question was all but answered. He wrung his hands together anxiously. “Surely there must be something we can do? Adresin and Noora are still anchored beyond the shoreline. Aurelia is awaiting my return. They will come for us.”
“For their sakes, I pray they don’t try and rescue us,” Neia said darkly. “They’ll be outnumbered if they come. Grivur’s underguards are crawling over every inch of this city, and he’ll expect more rebels to come for us when they start noticing we’ve disappeared. Captain Rymir Barrow has become the new commander of his armies, and he’ll be ready and willing to spill blood.”
Neia was right. Terradrin was the most populous kingdom in Revelore, with an army numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Hasana’s rebellion once made a dent in that number with a good number of soldiers secretly loyal to her cause, but now there was no telling how many had turned their backs on the rebellion and joined Rymir’s faction. No one could be trusted now. At the behest of Grivur, many of the soldiers once posted in Meysam were now stationed in the sprawling Under Kingdom. Any efforts made by Aurelia or Adresin would be easily thwarted. If Rook had convinced Raven to ally with them, they might’ve had a chance. But as it stood, their numbers were simply too few. They were helplessly trapped here like insects on the sticky lobes of the carnivorous plants on the Isles of Mythos.
The hope in Rook’s eyes dimmed as the futility of their situation settled. Their mission had always been fragile and fraught with risk, a string of carefully plotted steps that could come crashing down with one wrong move. In this case, several wrong moves had been made and now they were backed against a corner with no way out.
“Then we’ll just have to survive Grivur’s games. We can make it out.”
“I don’t think there will be any surviving these trials,” Hasana replied with a sad shake of her head. “Even if we did manage to make it through the games, Grivur will be waiting on the other side with an executioner’s blade. I fear death is our only fate.”
“Then we’ll face the knife of fate together,” Saoirse found herself saying. “We’ll not cower in fear.” If death was inescapable, she wanted to tackle it head-on. She was terrified of what they would face, but the presence of her friends made it a little less daunting.
“You’re right. We can face this together.” Rook’s gaze slid back to Saoirse and she held his stare. His eyes were laden with unspoken words.
In the hanging gardens, Rook had thought sharing his secrets would kill him. Now, it seemed holding them back from her was more painful. She wished they could have a moment alone, but his gentle gaze was enough of a gift. She’d thought she had shattered his heart beyond repair when the truth came out about her bargain with Selussa. She never thought she’d see the compassionate Rook who’d saved her in the trials again, but here he was, staring at her in this musty prison like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Why did fate always bring them back together at the most inopportune moments?
Neia grinned, the first true smile Saoirse had seen on the commander’s face since Rymir’s betrayal. “All right then. If it’s a show Grivur wants, then we’ll give him a spectacle.”