Siren Song (The Fated #1)

39 | The Pass

As one might expect, sleep was beyond Iliana's grasp.

When Lykos ordered them all out at the break of dawn, she reluctantly dragged herself from the bed. Releasing a string of swears in her mind, she changed into the heavy traveling dress and cloak Eumelia handed her. Her hesitation came in when the witch offered her familiar leather straps.

"It goes beneath your skirt," Eumelia explained. "Just wrap the buckles around your thigh and--"

"I know how it works," Iliana interrupted. "Why are you giving me a knife strap?"

"The mountains are dangerous," Lykos answered as he shoved open the door. Iliana shot him a glare. He had, once again, ignored the common courtesy of knocking. "You'll need a weapon."

"You aren't worried I'll use it on you?" she demanded.

Lykos studied her for a moment, his shoulder resting lazily against the frame. "If you hurt me, lass, I'd be happy."

Her lips curled into a scowl, fingers tightening around the strap. "What? Why?"

"It'd prove I'm a good teacher if someone who couldn't nail me with a blade from this close--" he mimed holding a blade a few inches from his face, "--manages to land an expected blow after a few weeks of training."

"It was dark and I didn't expect you to attack!" Iliana argued. "And I did hurt you. I stabbed your thigh."

"Yes, yes, whatever makes you feel better," Lykos quipped.

"It's the truth!"

He raised his hand from his side. Until that moment, Iliana hadn't realized he held Inna's ceremonial blade. "Put on the sheath so we can leave."

He flipped the blade in his hand, offering her the hilt. That ever-present, anger that burned beneath her skin reared its head, and Iliana snatched the weapon with more force than necessary. Lykos swore, then laughed as he held his hand close, examining the blood welling across his palm.

"A great start to the day."

He was a masochist. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.

Thankfully, Eumelia backed her up when she insisted she couldn't place the strap with him in the room. A handful of minutes later, they gathered in the living room. Iliana could only stare at the sight of Callias standing in front of the sitting table, pointer finger curled over his chin as he considered the blade, bow, quiver and dagger laid across its surface. After a moment, he grasped the hilt of the blade and unsheathed it.

"Him, too?" Iliana asked Lykos.

The mercenary shrugged, and it took everything she had to drop the issue there. If Lykos wanted to give them the weapons they needed for a clean escape, who was she to argue? Perhaps this was just the fruit of her attempts to seem harmless. She'd honestly expected Lykos to be the last person to fall for her "charms," but she was aware she should do her best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, when he offered her the bow Callias had passed over, she silently strapped it and the quiver over her shoulder and followed them from the inn.

The chill of dawn nipped at her skin and throat as she drew in a soft breath. Thankfully, the mottled-green traveling cloak did the trick, and that bit of a bite was all she felt. The rest of the crew waited for them outside, Abiel and Semele included. She'd half-expected the harpy to have departed in the night, and to have taken the boy with her. If the mountains were as dangerous as everyone kept saying, why were they bringing a child? Lykos had argued against bringing Natia, but was perfectly willing to bring the five year-old he seemed to view as a son?