Siren Song (The Fated #1)

23 | Crimson Fate

"You should go."

She'd be alone, but it was okay.

"Find the others. Let them know about the magic. Get a chance to visit the ocean."

She knew next to nothing about Callias, but the idea of him leaving was terrifying. If he left, Iliana had no idea when she'd next see a friendly face. The fact of the matter was, until that moment she hadn't realized just how screwed she was.

Iliana had no intentions of giving up on escape--but she wasn't an idiot.

"There won't be another chance like this."

Callias stood just inside the doorway, his hand lingering over the impassible magic barrier. Only inches laid between them, but it felt like miles as he studied her gaze with his classic, blank expression. Then, he looked away.

"Sounds of combat came from the back room."

He dropped his arm. Before she could fully comprehend the meaning behind his words, he'd turned his back to the entrance and started for the meeting room. Iliana stared after him, precious seconds ticking away as her mind struggled to comprehend his decision.

"You should go," she repeated.

He ignored her, instead disappearing into the back room. Her mind revisited his words, and hope flickered to life in her chest. The spell around the building blocked out all sound. Iliana imagined it was the same spell that kept her locked inside. If someone was fighting in the other room...

There was a slim chance the spell didn't encompass the entire building. It would be strange--as Eumelia didn't seem the sort to allow such a huge oversight--but, possible. Witch doctors were only human, and humans made mistakes.

Iliana scrambled to catch up with Callias. She was relieved to discover he waited for her, his gaze focused on the door leading into the back room. He purposely placed himself in front of her as they approached it, obviously intending to be the first to face whatever danger they were about to encounter. Once again, she saw no reason to argue.

He opened the door.

The room was dim, but the scene was easy enough to make sense of. Lykos took up the center of the floor, sword firm in his grip. A closed door laid behind him, most likely the entrance his opponents managed to penetrate. Three cloaked figures fought him, weapons raised, while four more watched on. For most men, this would've seemed like too much.

Lykos, however, appeared to be enjoying himself.

Wet crimson drenched his collarbone, and trailed down his bare, scarred chest. Sweat glistened across his skin, showing off how his muscles flexed as he flowed from one motion to the next, dodging and attacking with a strange grace that belayed his size. Several, shallow cuts marred his body, but they paled in comparison to the wounds his opponents wore, and were nothing like the gash that'd doused him in blood.

The back room had been a bad idea. There was no escape to be had in a room dominated by the likes of him.

One of the onlookers nudged another, and Iliana took a step back. She was aware, however, that her hesitation came too late. They'd been spotted. Callias tensed, readying his borrowed blade.

"Lookie 'ere," the closest stranger jeered, amusement stark on his face. "Fancy boy pretties himself a protector. Think we should rob 'im a bitch?"

Anger rose hot and fierce in Iliana's chest, even as common sense told her to back away. She couldn't fight. Not as she was. The knowledge didn't stop her from shifting her stance, however, something that wasn't lost on their aggressor. He laughed as he flicked a blade into his palm. The sight chilled some of her anger.