Reotak was a wasteland.

Autumn air chilled the cracked earth, forming frosted dew along the tall, dead grass that stretched as far as Iliana's eyes could see. Which, admittedly wasn't an excessive distance given the strange dips in the landscape. The path they traveled was just one of many passes through the warped stone canyons that lined the Reotakian landscape.

One of her tutors had once lectured that in the early centuries of their world the canyons had been ancient rivers that carved their way across the soft earth. Back then, the inland had been more fertile soil than rock, and the people had prospered effortlessly. That had changed long before even Iliana's grandparents' time, however. Extended decades of drought followed by single seasons of rainfall had all but wiped out whatever greenery had once existed.

It made sense, she supposed, that Reotak wasn't content to live within their own borders. Without their expanding empire, and struggling coastline farms, the powerhouse would've died out decades ago.

She'd always wondered if Reotak would look dead, or prosperous, the day she finally stepped foot within its borders. It was a curiosity that could've gone forever without being satisfied. It wasn't as if Artemios had ever brought them near the shores. For reasons unknown to Iliana, despite their vast travels, the Airlea had always carefully steered clear of any contracts that took them to Reotak.

Perhaps it was because of how ill being around the dead-lands made one feel.

It wasn't a physical feeling. It was an emotion that curled deep within her chest and refused to budge from the moment she'd woken up within a decrepit village inn. The owner was an elderly woman who greeted her cheerfully with a bowl of some watery soup, then within the same visit had backhanded a serving girl who'd jerked away from a handsy customer. Eumelia had caught Iliana's wrist, and shook her head when she'd opened her mouth to snap at the woman.

It wasn't until the witch had pointed to her own neck that Iliana had noticed the prominent slave tattoo encircling the girl's throat.

It wasn't the first time she'd come across a country overrun with slavery. Growing up in Aeolis had made traveling aboard the Airlea a harsh wake-up call about the state of freedom in most parts of the world. There were several, small island countries that held similar laws to Reotak. And even in Eol, if you traveled to the richer areas you would see slave markets and large numbers of people in chains. But, still, it churned her stomach.

Aeolis wasn't faultless. If you had the money, you could go abroad and buy at a market, then bring a person home. Only Cieon completely outlawed slavery, and she had the feeling it was mainly because of Inna and Umae's strong views on the subject, and the weight the gods' held in the eyes of the royal family. After all, indentured servitude was still legal, and that was only a step down from the real thing. You couldn't maim an indentured servant, but they couldn't leave your employment of their own will, either.

Still, something about the casual way that Reotak approached it bothered her. The elderly woman hadn't received a single look of judgement for her harsh response. And, when they'd left the following morning the poor girl's cheek was an awful shade of black. No amount of questioning or, frankly, pleading on her end could convince Lykos to give the inn the same treatment Natia's former home had received.

Gods, Natia.

For not the first time in the week since she'd woke, Iliana shuddered at the memories that flooded her mind. Natia's frail body and how it'd flown through the air. Heron's stillness. The pain.

The feather clutched in her palm.

Unconsciously, her hand curled against the side of her cloak. Despite everything that had happened, the downy feather had remained with her throughout the two weeks she'd been unconscious. Her memories of that time were, for the most part, completely blank. Yet, the memories she should've lost, the payment for tearing the feather from her neck, were merely fuzzy. Eumelia reported that she'd woke several times, but hadn't been coherent, which meshed with her foggy recollection of it all. Even that couldn't be contributed to the feather's removal. 

Which was why it was so strange that when she had finally come to, the feather had been clutched in her hand. The entire crew swore that they hadn't collected it from the pass. There had been so much going on at the time that it was ridiculous to think they had.

She felt ill at the thought of a god slipping it to her while she slept, but it was the only explanation her mind could think of. And, even then, it felt questionable.

Iliana'd once heard that only Kikin held power within Reotak. Emperor Zuher had ordered that the temples, idols, charms--anything that could be worshiped--of all other gods be destroyed. Worshiping anyone but their patron goddess was considered illegal, and worthy of imprisonment. She knew the law to be true, but whether or not it'd affected the gods as strongly as rumor suggested, she had no idea. She had her suspicions, though.

Koun hadn't visited her dreams once since they crossed the border, and that within itself felt proof enough. She shivered, fingers releasing her cloak. Had the cart she sat in not been occupied by more than just her, she might've pulled her legs to her chest so she could touch the charm. She had no real desire to speak to Koun, but was willing to try anything at this point if it meant assuring herself she wasn't alone in this country.

The feather dropped from her thoughts as the cart rounded a corner of the twisting canyon path, and revealed towering wooden gates. Her heart leapt to her throat as they slowly rolled closer, giving her all the time in the world to study the city she had no desire to enter.

Chuteros.

Towers of wood and stone stretched into what little of the sky was visible beyond the gates. Suspended bridges hung between them that even Iliana with her acceptance of heights would have hesitated to step on. The gates themselves were the mark where the simple, rock ground turned into paved stone that curled through a sprawling cityscape. The average buildings varied in heights, some even seeming to be built into the stone walls of the canyon. Rope ladders and wooden steps seemed to dominate every alley and roof she could see.

If it wasn't for the intimidating structure that shadowed over the entire city, Iliana might've been fascinated, rather than terrified.

A stone palace of magnificent proportions had been constructed atop the fork in the canyon. She couldn't see it from their position, but she knew from stories that it'd taken a solid decade to build the stairs and carriage path that cut upwards through the stone. They would end a few hundred feet before the front garden that somehow flourished despite Reotak's weather.

The building itself was the size of a small village, with more rooms than her memory could recall. The most eye-catching part of it all, however, were the twin towers that stretched above the rest of the palace. They were balanced on the edge of the canyon, with windows that spied out over a few thousand feet of open air.

Rumor said that at least once a year some "guest" of the emperor was found beneath the towers. It was the easiest, and perhaps only, way to escape the palace once you were dragged inside.

The thought stole her breath. It took everything she had to force air into her lungs as the cart rolled closer.

I can't. The words brokenly rolled through her mind. Repeating over and over again as if that would change how each second dragged them closer. I can't. I can't. I can't--

"Iliana."

Eumelia's soft voice dragged Iliana's eyes from the palace. There was an understanding in her gaze that lit a fire in Iliana's chest. How could she be so sympathetic and not stop this?

"Do you remember what I've told you?"

She scowled. The last week had been spent with Eumelia insisting that Iliana know proper etiquette for greeting nobility in Reotak. She had resisted at first, but given in as she realized that the knowledge might be the difference between life and death.

She wasn't to meet the emperor's eyes unless told to. She could only address him as "Your Majesty," unless instructed otherwise. She was to stay on her knees, unless ordered to stand. She was to stay silent, unless asked a question.

There were a lot of 'unless' situations in the rules.

She'd observed as much to Eumelia, who had waved it off as a tagline added because of Zuher's "erratic" behavior. Apparently, what he would do, what he would ask of her, it was all unknown.

"For as little good as it'll do, yeah," Iliana grumbled.

"Good."

Eumelia's reply was accompanied by a strained smile, and followed by another tense silence. It coated the empty cart like a blanket. Ever since they'd left the rest of the crew--Abiel included--in a safe house four days prior, the mood in the cart had become weighted. Lykos shifted from his typically jovial behavior to an unnerving quiet, which Eumelia had filled with uncharacteristic, idle chatter about Reotak's culture. The real conversations that they should've been having were sidestepped. Although, that was nothing new. It'd been that way since she woke up.

Lykos didn't talk about the mercenaries this trip had cost him.

He didn't talk about Natia.

He didn't talk about their near miss with the wyvern, Iliana's sacrifice of the feather, or Callias' disappearance behind falling rock.

It was odd in an unsettling, nerve-wracking way. Ever since they'd met, she'd been praying he would shut up.

Now, she would've given anything just for him to crack a horrible joke. Having him be silent only made the situation that much more real. It made the probable deaths weigh hard in her mind, and his notable absence echo nightmares about unrecognizable, crushed bodies in her sleep. She had no responsibility for any of it. Iliana hadn't chosen to walk into that pass. She hadn't dragged herself across the country into wyvern territory.

But, gods it hurt, knowing where her efforts during that disaster had gotten her.

As they drew closer to their destination, she began to feel curious eyes follow them through the busy streets. The creepy sensation drew her attention to the citizens of Chuteros.

Whereas in Eol most villages had been inhabited by people of varying race and ethnicities, Reotak was much more plain. The occasional golden tone of Eol could be seen, but most folks seemed to vary from light to dark tan skin, with black, brown, and the occasional dishwater blonde, curly locks. She didn't catch sight of a single free person with any color lighter than a dark auburn. The only real variation came in their bodies. A clear wealth-divide could be seen in the scrawny, shorter builds of the poor folk, and the willowy frames of the rich.

She wished she could hide from their eyes. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to run. So, Iliana settled for tugging her hood deeper, and drawing in calming breaths. She couldn't afford to mess up here.

If the first impression she gave these people was the way she'd portrayed herself to Lykos, she doubted she would ever be allowed to take another step from the palace. She would die within those walls--and that wasn't a fate she was ready to resign herself to. No matter the thoughts fear had been stuffing into her head, giving up wasn't an option.

Escaping wouldn't happen right away. Fates, it might not happen for months, or years. But it would happen. Or, she would die.

Iliana wouldn't live an immortal life enslaved beneath the thumb of a madman. She couldn't.

"The vultures are out," Lykos said.

The frank annoyance in his tone dragged her attention to where he sat at the front of the cart. His hands were clenched tightly around the leather reigns, his eyes focused on something ahead of them. Despite her intention not to draw attention to herself, Iliana carefully stood and edged closer to where he sat so she could have a clear view of beyond his and Eumelia's heads.

The beginning of the long path to the palace had just come into view. And, rumor must have traveled fast in the city, because folks dressed in wealthy fabrics stood in nearly every balcony, window, or doorway near the base of the climb. Murmured voices too quiet to be heard clung to the air, sending chills down Iliana's spine. She retreated back to her perch in the back of the cart, attempting to shake their attention from her thoughts.

Gods, was this what her life was about to become? Would she be watched like a menagerie piece, each step she dissected for gossip, each word she spoke stripped for motivation?

She felt like she'd returned to the wicked depths of the Aeolian peerage, and they hadn't even reached the palace.

"Pay them no mind," Eumelia urged her. "They're harmless at this point. Not one of them could touch you without consequence. The only thing they have are words, and even those will be limited and laced with politics."

The "reassurance" landed far from how Eumelia intended it, she was sure. It only reminded her of the station she was about to receive. A belonging of the emperor couldn't be harmed by those lower than him, not unless he gave permission.

She shuddered at the thought.

They stopped a few buildings from the base, and with a pained smile, Eumelia slipped from the back of the cart. At Iliana's questioning stare, the witch grimaced.

"Zu--His Majesty knows I exist. But, we do our best not to remind him. No point in stirring things up that could be left alone. You two will travel on your own from here. It isn't as if there's a danger of you attempting escape at this point, which is the only reason I even came this far. Or, I hope there isn't. I believe you smart enough to know how poorly attempting to slip into anonymity in this city would go."

Iliana had wondered why the rest of the crew had been left behind, and also why Eumelia had been willing to part from her son. It must have been to keep them away from the prying eyes of the city, and therefore out of Zuher's attention.

"Wait for me here," Lykos said, breaking the hesitant silence Iliana hung in following Eumelia's statement. "I'm not sure when I will be back, but we'll leave after."

Gods, they weren't even going to stay with her in the palace.

She didn't want Lykos. She didn't trust him.

But, even he would be a welcome face among the political rats that no doubt packed this palace. She could feel the fragile, wobbling tower that was her emotional control teetering at the realization that the solitude she felt trapped in at the moment would only grow worse within those walls.

She wanted to run.

"Don't."

Eumelia's firm order dragged her attention from her fears and into the present. The witch's eyes dug into Iliana's own, telling her that Eumelia knew exactly what had been racing through her thoughts.

"The danger of Chuteros is much higher than Nokos. No matter what is said about that city, there is honor to be found among thieves and their like. There is no honor in the peerage. Only glory and greed. Everyone here has seen what they can of your face. Many of them are catching your scent in the air, committing it to memory.

"If you run, it will be a manhunt to see who can capture the glory of delivering Zuher's siren into his hands."

"I'm not--"

"I know," Eumelia interrupted. "I know."

Silence stretched between them. Eumelia slowly dropped her eyes, her hands wringing the copper braid that hung over her shoulder.

"I know... but, no one here will see it that way. And, Iliana... remember the ears and eyes that will follow you every second from this moment forward. Please, watch yourself. I know. I do. But, it is safer to keep it to yourself. Keep that truth close, but, also bury it as deep as you can. Don't let others read it in your eyes.

"You won't survive the full wrath of the court. No one can."

With those lovely words, Eumelia wished them a goodbye and spun a heel. Before she had even reached the doorway she'd started towards, it was tugged open, an unremarkable woman offering her a warm smile from the shadowed entrance. They disappeared into the house, and Lykos clicked his tongue. The cart started again, sending Iliana's stomach to her feet.

The next time they stopped, she would be handed over to Zuher.

Please. Anyone who is listening. Don't let me die here.

I'm not ready to die.

She knew her prayer would be answered with silence. But, somehow that only worsened the sick feeling that filled her from head to toe as the cart began the long, smooth trek up the side of the canyon.

The world she was entering had been abandoned by the gods for decades.

What hope did a single, helpless siren have of surviving? 

A/N: And here we are! Mermaid Tear has finally begun. Any thoughts on the opening? I know not much happened, but it was getting too long to complete the next part in a single chapter like I'd initially intended. 

This chapter was to celebrate finishing the quick first edit of Siren Song that removed typos. The book is still planned to start a month from now.

P.S. You'll note I've begun to use "emperor" for Zuher as opposed to king. It's because I realized that while he is the "king" of Reotak, the fact that Reotak is an empire means I've been using the wrong term this entire time. That'll be fixed in the next draft of Siren Song, but for now I've simply switched to using the right term in this book, much like how I've switched to calling gate masters Reapers.