Iliana struggled through two new nightmares, and one-hundred various exercises before the tower door next opened.

Unlike the previous visits, the guards ignored Del's cell in favor of her own. Fear mixed with uncertainty as energy flooded her exhausted body. 

Aria ordered her from the cell and out of the room. Iliana's muscles burned, and she found herself grateful for the nightmares. If she hadn't resorted to exhausting herself in order to sleep, her stiff body might have made walking difficult. As it was, she managed to stumble up the stairs without tripping.

The midday sun burned.

Sudden light burnt Iliana's eyes, sending her vision blurry. She attempted to blink away the tears, but a few escaped down her cheeks. If they noticed, her guards said nothing. Iliana wasn't sure to be grateful or annoyed by their indifference as they urged her into a grueling pace through courtyards and halls.

It was a familiar path. The bathhouse.

Corinna waited inside. Taking Iliana's murmured greeting as silent permission, the maid escorted her though a near-identical process of disrobing and bathing. The sole difference laid in when Corinna's soft cloth reached the inside of Iliana's wrist.

So many things had happened during her stay in the dark that the ache of her bloodied skin had been forgotten. Now, however, the well-lit bath and the sudden sting of a newly opened wound made it impossible to ignore. Old blood stained the water pink. Something odd settled heavily in her chest as she studied the perfectly circular wound.

Becoming a siren had removed all of Iliana's old injuries.

Every mark of Kyril's abuse, her years on the streets, even the unlucky scrapes of a life at sea had been washed away. It had created a blank slate that, if everything had gone right, would've remained pristine in her new life.

Her free fingers crept up to the mark across her brow from when she'd fallen while training with Lykos. Her eyes never left the bite.

It would become her second scar

When Iliana had first noticed the changes to her skin, she'd hated them. It'd felt like a part of her was being washed away. Now, however, she almost wished for it. The desire stirred her heart and heated her veins. Even if it meant dying again, she was near certain she'd be willing to risk it.

Scars, burns, calluses; they were all stories written on flesh. You could read a lot about a person's life from the state of their skin. Their wealth, their experiences, and sometimes even their loves, they were all there.

What version of herself would emerge from these new marks? When Iliana next looked into a mirror, would she see herself? Or would she see yet another stranger?

The idea hung in her mind, fogging her thoughts. It refused to budge as the bath was finished and Corinna nudged her into the changing room. There, she pulled out a pastel pot. Iliana felt numb as the maid spread a floral, clear gel on the oozing wound. The blood slowed, then stopped. The mess was wiped away and instead of a bandage, Corinna secured a ribbon over the bite mark.

Iliana stared at the silk and lace, thoughts latching onto the pristine white fabric. Something about it scraped at her insides. How long would the color remain clean?

As Corinna pulled out each piece of a dark, layered navy-blue dress, Aria cleared her throat. Iliana's attention flicked up from her wrist. The guard was frowning and studying her with a furrowed brow. Whatever thoughts traveled through Aria's mind in that moment remained a mystery, however, as the woman sighed and crossed her arms.

"You'll be visiting during work hours this time," she explained. "You'll want to remain on your best behavior. His Imperial Majesty has much to do, and distracting him from it in pleasant ways is your duty, but anything unpleasant could result in...trouble."

Her wording caught Iliana's focus. Was the warning something required of her, or was the guard attempting to help? So far, Aria hadn't done anything to harm Iliana. Rather, she'd been mostly indifferent. It eased the tangled knot of emotions in her chest. There was no harm in accepting the reasonable advice. Suspecting Aria's motivations would get her nowhere with as little as she knew about the woman.

"His schedule shouldn't be too exhausting at this time," Aria continued. "His Imperial Majesty is in his office at this moment, with no meetings planned. If everything continues as it should, he won't leave until dinner. If he pleases, you should be able to accompany him like before."

A lump formed in her throat. Accompany him like before.

The words circled through her mind, and suddenly all she could think about was the sting of her wrist. It clung to her thoughts, strangling any questions except the one that fell from her lips. "Will I be the dinner?"

Aria hesitated. Silence took the room, broke only by the rustling of fabric as Corinna drew the intricately stringed bodice of the dress taut. It felt akin to a corset, complete with the sharp bite of restrictive, bone support.

"His Imperial Majesty has...others, for that," Aria began. "But--"

She paused, her eyes flicking to Corinna. The maid didn't spare the guard a glance as she removed the final layer of the dress from a hanger. It was solid black over-layer with quarter-sleeves and laced frills. It clung to Iliana like a jacket, but was too open-faced to fully qualify.

Gods, she didn't miss the feeling of being a fanciful doll. The clothing might have been pretty, but it was impractical. She couldn't fight like this even if she wanted to.

"--there is a rumor, Milady."

Iliana opened her mouth to protest the title, then faltered. Aria was giving her information, perhaps it was easier to leave that half of the sentence alone. "Rumor?"

In an uncharacteristically open show of emotion, Aria's teeth worried her lip for a moment, before she sighed. One of her crossed arms fell to her side as she gave a slow nod.

"A rumor. New demons are told it is better to not taste the power of other gods' children if not given explicit permission. There are two reasons. First, you may anger their god if the--victim is particularly blessed. Most feel safe to ignore this, as similarly wide-spread stories say the gods are blind to our actions. It's the abandoned temples--they give folks misplaced courage."

Aria scowled, giving Iliana the distinct impression she didn't agree.

"The other?" she prompted.

"The second is more complicated, and a stronger deterrent. It is said that the more overwhelming the godly blessing, the more addictive their strength will become."

The information created a whirlwind of emotion that wreaked havoc with Iliana's thoughts. The unsaid was obvious.

Sirens were the most blessed of all the children. Because of how strongly the others doted on Inna, nearly every god had offered something when she'd created them. If the energy of a gods' child was addictive--sirens were an inescapable drug.

"So, you see, the question you ask is complicated. There--this position you have, it has been occupied before."

Meaning Zuher already had a taste for sirens. It was something Iliana had known--but, she hadn't realized the true implications. She'd been too distracted by what it meant in relation to Inna.

"It is unlikely he will leave you be, even if you are cooperative."

A shudder racked her body. This was the detail she had been missing.

The reason why Zuher was willing to risk the wrath of the gods by stealing away the children was so simple, yet so chilling. The famed menagerie was a collection of opiates, and the tyrant an addict. There was more to it, of course, as he couldn't have locked the entire country away from the gods for this alone, but it drove home just how dangerous her position truly was.

For a moment, she let the fear wash over her. As Corinna slid the last pins into place, Iliana's limbs trembled. Then, slowly, she drew in a deep breath. As she released it, she released the numbing fear.

She could do this.

It would be a lie to say she'd survived worse--but, that didn't make the situation impossible. Remember Aatami. Remember the dreams. Remember the gods have something planned.

As unsettling as it was to know they'd been guiding her fate with some ultimate goal in mind, it meant they had their eyes on the situation. It meant that even if she failed to save herself--something she had no intention of doing--that, perhaps, there was some chance that the gods would manage it.

Because, as much as it terrified her, the information also drove in just exactly how much godly ire the emperor must have provoked.

"Come. If we talk any longer, you'll be late."

She was escorted through the palace in a similar direction as before. It seemed Zuher's office laid close to Aatami's. Aria, along with the rest of the guard, paused outside a final door.

"We stop here," she explained.

The reason was obvious--they weren't needed in Zuher's domain. One, lone siren wouldn't be able to kill the tyrant. At least, that was their thought.

Iliana was sorely tempted to discover if they were wrong.

Aria knocked on the door, announcing their arrival. Within the second Zuher's voice beckoned her in.

With regicide in mind, she drew in a final, calming breath, before breaching the door.

Iliana almost expected some grand, fanciful room to be revealed. Instead, she stepped into a simple office. Curtains were drawn over the windows, and the majority of the floor was dominated by a large, old desk. It was in pristine care, and covered by documents. The floor was similarly old wood without a single rug.

The only true decoration in the room was a pile of pillows tossed against a towering bookshelf. It was so out-of-place that Iliana might've stared if there hadn't been something, well, someone much more important to address.

She dropped into a low curtsy as her nerves drew thin. Aria's term of address for the emperor flashed through her mind as she steadied her racing heart. "Greetings to Your Imperial Majesty."

Zuher hummed. She didn't dare lift her head as he, once again, forced her to stay low for much longer than was proper. Then, he laughed.

"Once again, you've learned. Rise."

Iliana felt dizzy as she straightened, but somehow managed to keep a semblance of grace in her movements. When her eyes found him, she found Zuher to be watching her with the tip of his quill brushed against his cheek. A smirk curled his lips, interest clear in his fathomless eyes.

"I have to wonder where you learned all this. Despite how long of a talk Ales and I had, your history still remains a mystery."

Gods, he wanted to know about her. And had apparently interrogated Lykos for the information. 

Iliana was reminded of the emotion she'd felt emanating from his charm. When Zuher released her from this meeting, she would have to check on him the best she could. For now, however, there were more important things to focus on.

For some reason, she'd thought that after the first few days had passed without an interrogation, she would get away without sharing any information. After all, what use did her origin carry when she was here to serve as a trophy?

Iliana held her questions from her tongue. He hadn't asked a question--that meant she wasn't to speak.

This time, she would follow the rules.

"Sit, Pet. I've work to do, but that doesn't mean silence is required. Tell me what I don't know."

His pleasant tone was unnerving. It was the voice one used with an old friend, not a captive. She supposed it was better than him being jolly, or irritated. But, it still rubbed her wrong. They'd met twice, and she'd emerged from both meetings with new bruises. Still, she wouldn't argue it.

His words were punctuated by a wave of his hand towards the pillows, not the two chairs facing him. Her gut churned with uneasiness. Zuher was treating her like an animal, again. Accepting felt like loss, like she would be handing over a piece of herself to Zuher.

But...

What was her pride worth when measured against the dark?

Even if Del had made the tower easier to deal with, it didn't stop the dark churning in her heart, or the nightmares that brought her to screams. He may have warmed the cell with his voice, but he couldn't ease the chill that'd nearly froze her nerves to the point of shattering.

Slowly, Iliana crossed the room. The steps that took her around the corner of the desk were the hardest. Her heart sped as if it might leap from her chest the second she was within arms' reach. And, despite being ready, she still flinched back when Zuher grabbed her wrist.

Pain from the wound combined with his bruising grip and she nearly grimaced. Somehow, she managed to hold her tongue.

Perhaps the nightmares had done her some good, Iliana realized in that second. As distasteful, and numbing as it was to realize, this situation, her censer, felt akin to dealing with Kyril.

Only Zuher was so much more deadly.

"I see they haven't forgotten my taste," Zuher mused, lifting her hand. He studied the white ribbon with an amused smile. "I suppose I shouldn't have doubted Aria, but it has been a long time."

Zuher knew a guard by name?

Iliana didn't know him well enough to know if that was normal, but it struck her as odd. Nobility were vein, haughty creatures. The help, even guards, were below their notice unless the commoner's life directly impacted the noble's own. It stood to reason that royalty like Zuher would be no different.

Was Aria someone important?

He dug his thumb against her wrist, and she bit back a wince. Despite the aid of whatever salve Corinna had applied, crimson soon bloomed across the fabric. "Beautiful. Now, sit."

Zuher released her, and Iliana scrambled to the pillows with far less resistance than before. Anything to put space between them.

His quill returned to his fingers as the emperor's eyes shifted to the documents before him. Iliana hesitated, before turning her back to the bookshelf and settling in the pile. Her knees pulled half-beneath her, she focused her attention on the back of Zuher's head. Her fingers curled into fists around her leg, temptation drawing deep tension into her shoulders.

She could seize a book and swing it at his head. Or, simply lunge at him.

Logic told her it would earn her nothing, but her heart screamed for action.

"You're supposed to be telling a story," Zuher prompted her. His tone was soft, but dangerous.

Possibilities flashed through Iliana's mind. He wanted her story.

She couldn't tell the truth.

Even if it was unlikely that telling Zuher her past would lead to him finding Mara, Iliana didn't want to risk it. She might have abandoned her ages ago, but that didn't mean they were no longer siblings. Mara was still the woman who raised her, alone. She was still the girl who clung to Iliana, sobbing, as their mother's body grew cold.

A lie, then. One mixed with truth. "I grew up in Aeolis."

Zuher flipped a page, his head tilting thoughtfully. "I thought as much. You speak Empor like a Westerner."

"My father was nobility."

Truth.

"He hailed from a minor house that fell around the time I was born."

Lie.

"My mother--"

"How?" Zuher interrupted.

She shivered, her nails digging into her skin. "There was a nightmare attack. My father died, and my mother was injured. There wasn't enough money to pay for the fallout, so my mother had to sell everything."

Both. Her father had died before she was born, and he had been killed in the nightmare attack that poisoned her mother, but that hadn't caused the fall of their house. They'd started poor after his family disowned him for refusing an arranged marriage. Aeolian nobility held little stock in love--you married for money and power, or you were worthless.

There was a reason Aion's temples tended to be the least cared for.

Zuher's quill shifted across the document he studied, but his attention seemed to remain on her. It was obvious in the wave of his hand that prompted her to continue. He'd lost interest in her family. She could guess why. Nightmares were everywhere, but the Western continent in particular seemed to have become overwhelmed within the last decade. Tracking down a family that fell to ruin due to a nightmare attack would be impossible.

She could only thank the gods for that. Legend said it was due to their disinterest in the West. Whether it was true or not, it made her lies easier.

As the minutes dragged on, Iliana spun a story.

She was an only child. Her mother taught her as much as she could before she passed, leaving Iliana to fend for herself. The history of her descent into siren hood was easy to twist. Everyone on the ship had died--and with the fake childhood of a street kid, Zuher didn't even question her eligibility.

Somehow, she made it through his interest without question. Perhaps he didn't think she would lie to him with her current attitude--or perhaps he simply didn't care. Regardless, by the time Zuher signed his last document and shoved his papers to the side, Iliana had convinced him there was no one she cared about.

"An interesting tale," Zuher mused. "Which reminds me of a story I heard recently."

She tensed as he turned his chair, gaze falling on her for the first time since her story had begun. He wore the same, measuring gaze he'd worn at court.

"You see, one of the guards told me of a disturbance in the tower last night. Screaming and shouting, I believe it was? I would blame it on the Cieonian, of course, except he was rather well-behaved before your arrival."

He paused, as if expecting her to add her own opinion. When she didn't, his lips quirked. It seemed her new adherence to etiquette was amusing.

Zuher stood, before offering his hand in her direction. Iliana hesitated, and in a swift, unseen movement, he'd stepped to her side, seizing her wrist himself. He effortlessly jerked her to her feet, then offered a thin, predatory smile.

"So, I thought, why not get to the bottom of this little mystery for myself? What do you say?"

Iliana cleared her throat. "I--"

"Good. Let's be off, then." 

A/N: I'm so excited to reach this arc. Both Kain and Iliana's current timelines are arcs I've been excited to write since I planned them while writing Siren Song. I hope you're prepared. It'll be a tough time for everyone (except maybe me). 

I know I keep saying I'm going to go back to the old update schedule, but at this point I'm still debating. You see, I've been writing about two chapters a week, and if that keeps up then I'll have buffer even without posting every other week. So, my thought is this:

If I keep writing, then I should keep posting.

P.S. The song I put on this chapter is one that I think suits Zuher.