Siren Song (The Fated #1)

20 | Scars

Iliana gaped, shock strangling her thoughts. She snapped her mouth shut the moment Lykos snickered, realizing how ridiculous her expression must look.

"We'll stay two days here while gathering supplies," Lykos said, ignoring the ground-breaking revelation. "Then move on in the morning after the others return with our supplies. Enjoy tonight--we won't have such easy rest while traveling."

"You can't just--a rebellion?" Iliana demanded.

He shrugged. "I prefer criminal organization."

How is that any better? Iliana stared at him, wondering not for the first time how his mind worked. By the fates, is he insane?

"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Alake questioned, furrowing his brow. "I've a few new members that'd like to meet you, but they're out on jobs."

"This isn't something you can just mention, then ignore," Iliana snapped, drawing their attention back to her. "He," she pointed at Lykos. "Can't be the leader of the Unseen Hand."

Semele's expression became amused, Alake mirroring the action.

"Oh?" the harpy questioned.

"He's an idiot!" Iliana exclaimed. "A flirtatious, gods' damned idiot. And a mercenary. And... and..."

"Our leader," Alake finished.

"Why?"

Iliana's attention jerked to Callias with the soft spoken question. The merman's gaze was focused on Lykos alone, an even, unreadable frown on his lips. Lykos cocked his head, as if considering the question.

"Why?" he echoed. "Why what, exactly?"

"Why would you create something like this in Eol of all places?" Callias replied. "Why 'give it away'?"

He wasn't doubting it?

The question was fair. If she hadn't been so put off by the idea of Lykos as a rebel, she might have asked it herself. If you were a free person, Eol was one of the easier countries to make a living in. With the country's main exports a result of their farms, there was a decent living to be found in being a farm hand, even if you didn't own the land yourself. Sure, the lords could be overbearing, but that was a fact of life almost anywhere you went. Even Aeolis had a higher poverty level than Eol. Nokos was actually an extreme picture of the country as a whole, the exception rather than the norm.

Lykos studied Callias, as if debating whether to offer a truthful, or flippant response. Iliana wouldn't put either past him. After several moments of silence, during which every gaze slowly shifted to the mercenary in question, Lykos dropped his feet from the chair and offered them his typical, carefree shrug.

"Who knows?"

With that, he stood, grabbing a satchel that'd been laying tucked beneath his seat. Ignoring the seething anger Iliana glowered his direction, Lykos strolled over to the hatch in the ceiling she'd noted and grabbed the rope. He pulled the ladder down before turning to face them.

"Captives first," he instructed, voice cheery.

Iliana was sorely tempted to punch him. As she debated it, Callias stepped forward, silently volunteering to go first. Chewing on her lip, Iliana followed suit. The hallway above was rather simple. Illuminated by flickering candles, it stretched far behind them, most likely the length of the building, with rooms lining each side. Only two feet in front of the hatch, the hall ended at a single, unremarkable door.

As the duo studied their surroundings, Lykos arrived on the floor. Iliana turned to face him, her curiosity warring with her irritation.

"Why so many rooms?"