Mermaid Tear (The Fated #2)

36 | Chained

At first, it took everything Iliana had to ward off panic.

Despite the faint daylight that streamed in from somewhere behind her, the sudden plunge into shadows was intimidating. It strangled reason, and summoned fear from deep in her chest. In the end, she had to close her eyes, and draw in several deep breaths, before she could force her attention to the situation around her.

The first thing she noticed as she pulled herself to her feet was the fact that this level of the tower resembled her quarters in the menagerie more than the dark cells she and Del had experienced before. The main similarity came from the light source--a large, open balcony that overlooked the Chuteros skyline. The quarters--or more accurately, prison cell--consisted of a large, near-empty, circular room. The only pieces of furniture she could see were a large mat and a wooden wardrobe.

More importantly, however, was the thick iron bar suspended across the open tower ceiling.

Secured to it by an intricate pulley were several iron chains. The system held them taut, suspending a familiar figure to a sickening height. The soles of Lykos' bare feet just barely met the stone beneath his frame. Between the iron collar encasing his neck, and the heavy cuffs on his wrists, Iliana was left with no doubt about the origins of the deep scarring Eumelia usually had glamored away from view.

After all, while it was hard to see due to the dim lighting, and the dark stone, she was fairly certain the dark stains coating the iron and the ground were remnants of dried blood.

Iliana took an unconscious step forward, unable to pull her eyes from the man that not long ago, she had convinced herself she should hate.

Lykos' wounds from the duel had been addressed, much like Del's, but also like Del, they hadn't been healed. The man's golden skin had a certain, sallow edge to it, and a thin, glistening sheen that didn't spell well for his health. His mess of dirt-blond hair hung limp with grime and sweat. Then there were his eyes. They were closed, for once, but even then, Iliana could feel the resignation that no doubt glimmered behind the usually confident steel-gray. It coated her insides, making her feel sick, and angry all at once. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides.

For once, her distaste for Lykos couldn't burn as hot as her rage on his behalf.

Iliana started to take another step closer, but paused as a noise behind her drew her attention. She glanced back at the balcony, and froze. Between the moment she'd first looked away, and when she looked back, Aran had appeared in the empty space. What held her still wasn't his arrival, however, but his appearance.

With the exception of when they'd met upon her death, Iliana had grown used to the washed out aspect of Aran's body. It was just a part of what made the reaper so strange. Which was why it was so startling to see his dusty hair turn into a rich brown, and his almost-gray eyes into the lightest shade of blue she'd ever seen. Even his tanned skin appeared to have the faint flush of a living person.

As she watched, he started into the tower, his eyes focused on Lykos.

"Aran?"

Iliana couldn't help the question that escaped her, and nearly jumped out her skin when the reaper immediately paused. His gaze flicked to her, before widening in surprise. "Iliana?"

"The fuck?"

She could hear him? How?

"What are you--" Aran began, then cut himself off, his eyes dropping to her feet. "The anklet."

Her previous speculation flickered to life in her mind. Had she been right, then? Did the anklet pull Iliana to the same realm of existence that the reapers existed upon? Was that why she could hear him, and why he had noticed her use of it?