The tattoo unsettled her.

After Eumelia had finished, she ushered Iliana back to her room with the promise of someone dropping by later that evening. Seeing no sense in arguing, Iliana had complied. The moment she was alone, however, she'd peeled away the bandage to stare at the black ink that decorated the outside of her upper arm. The skin around it was red and puffy, but the design was clear as could be. She bit her lip and replaced the bandage.

How is that possible? she wondered. Did Eumelia choose that on purpose? Or was it a coincidence?

The design was simple, but familiar. Four circles settled inside a diamond, each filling one of the corners. All of the circles held a single 'x' inside. When she'd questioned Eumelia about the design, the witch doctor had said it was an ancient character that meant 'silence' in her native language. Iliana might have asked more questions, but she'd been distracted by the realization that she'd seen the symbol before.

Her fingers played with the charm in question, her mind turning to her anklet for the first time in awhile. Each of the four charms was of a different design. When she was younger, she'd been enamored by the idea of discovering what they meant, but over time she'd lost interest. At some point, she'd decided that perhaps they were just random and meant to look pretty. Now, though...

Fear froze her in place. Leaving home at this time of night had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but now, face-to-face with a slaver, she knew better. It'd been stupid.

Still, instead of showing how scared she was, she drew her foot back and nailed the man in his privates. Mara'd said that was the best place to hit a bad man. The slaver drew in a sharp breath, falling to his knee. She turned to run, but found herself face to face with another man. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, the man collapsed. She stared, blankly, at the arrow buried deep in the slaver's back. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his already dirty clothing a dark crimson.

"That was a pretty brave thing you did, Iliana Katrakis."

She shook her head, forcing away the errant memory. No matter how many times she thought back on the day she'd been given the anklet, the stranger's face escaped her recollection. They'd rescued her, showed her back to her house, then... nothing. She couldn't remember what happened after that. But, suddenly that anklet had been there and it was impossible to remove.

I don't like this. She released the charm, dropping her head back on a pillow. Something about the matching symbols bothered her. Eumelia hadn't had the chance to see the charm. Unless she'd snuck in while Iliana was sleeping, there was no way for her to have picked it just because it was on the anklet. A coincidence? It seems unlikely.

She sighed, throwing her arms out in frustration. It made no sense, but there it was. That wasn't the only problem, though, and perhaps it wasn't what she should be focusing her thoughts on. She was now blood bound to the crew. Singing to them would be useless, and she could only hope that was the sole magic Eumelia'd put into the tattoo. The idea that there could be something else made her skin crawl. But, it wasn't as if she could do anything about it. Even if she'd put up more of a fight, she'd've gotten the tattoo either way.

Then there were her hands.

She raised them above her head, staring at the flawless skin in wonder. She'd glance over the rest of her body soon, but she had the feeling that the rest of it would be the same. Perhaps she'd been wrong to think that all of the changes that came with being a siren would occur right away. It wasn't as if she'd had a chance to talk to Rhode and the others about what was going to happen. Perhaps it was a gradual thing. That would explain why she'd felt so unsettled by her naked body when she'd changed.

Not every siren would have been drop-dead gorgeous when they were human. Her mind reflected on the beauties she'd seen in the village. They'd been unnaturally pretty, to the point even she'd been enamored when she'd first seen Rhode. Was that what was happening to her? She'd been so caught up in feeling like the odd one out that she'd never considered the alternative--that she'd become just as beautiful as the rest of them. Was that even possible?

She thought back on the unlikely dream she formed of returning home. When everything was said and done, would anyone even recognize her as... well, her?

The idea was just as unsettling as the tattoo. She shuddered, dropping her hands and rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. There'd been something comforting about the idea that even if she became one of them, she would never look like one of them. Perhaps that was why she'd never considered the matter before. She gave a frustrated, muffled groan into the pillow.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't she just go back to her simple life aboard the Airlea, where her biggest concern had been if she'd be able to complete all her tasks before nightfall?

Much like that night in the cave, Iliana had to wonder if the gods were playing some trick on her. Everything had gone so wrong, so quickly. Why? She wasn't anyone special. So, what was it that had suddenly caused her life to go belly up?

She spent the next few hours like that--marveling over everything that had happened over the past few days. At some point Iliana stripped down to examine her body, and found she was right. She no longer had a single scar. After the discovery, she quickly dressed once again and began pacing around the room. It was too small.

She felt more boxed in than she ever had--it even beat the claustrophobic feelings she'd had when her brother-in-law used to lock her in the basement for days on end. She needed out of the room and far away from her churning, bewildering thoughts.

A knock came at the cabin door, and she spun to face it. Lykos poked his head in, a teasing grin on his face.

"Damn, I was hoping you wouldn't be decent."

"Asshole," she snapped.

"Naturally," he agreed. "I don't suppose you've changed your mind about dining with us, hm?"

Iliana hesitated. As distasteful as the idea of choosing to eat with her captors was, all she had to do in her cabin was think. The only thing that did for her was lead her in circles about the entire situation. With a scowl on her lips, she reluctantly gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I'll come as long as I don't have to sit anywhere near you," Iliana grumbled.

He opened the door the rest of the way, almost seeming to radiate his smugness as he gestured for her to step into the hall. "Then, after you."

For a split-second, she considered changing her mind. Sure, she might go stir crazy if she stayed in the cabin any longer, and only seconds before she'd been desperate for an escape, but was it worth it? After all, that urge to hit Lykos hadn't faded with time. In fact, she was almost surprised by how strongly she felt about wiping away that grin of his. She flexed her fist and continued to scowl at him for several seconds. Then, keeping the internal battle to herself, she reluctantly stepped past him.

Leaving was better, even if it meant dealing with him. She stood no chance of winning over the crew if she never actually spoke with them. Seeming all-too pleased with himself, Lykos shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled past her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a scathing comment about his attitude as she followed him down the hall, then up onto the deck.

"We tend to eat out here," Lykos explained. "We've no formal dining cabin or anything like that. Most of our time is spent ashore, so we've no need for a fancy ship."

Resisting the urge to point out that a dining room was hardly fancy, Iliana just nodded her head. Despite the late hour, daylight still streamed over the deck. The sun hung low in the sky, looking as if it would soon sink below the distant sea line. An off-white cloth had been spread over what could have been a table, but Iliana had a feeling was actually several cargo boxes shoved together. Despite being seated around it on a mixture of barrels and chairs, no one had their legs stuck beneath the low-hanging cloth.

When they spotted her standing next to Lykos, the others scrambled to their feet. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she studied them; instead noting that neither Eumelia or Abiel were part of the group. Were they running late, or not coming?

"We've a seat for you right here," the closest mercenary announced, patting his hand on the chair next to him.

The man appeared to be barely older than herself, perhaps in his early twenties, with a head of rather short, midnight black hair. A quick study of him made Iliana realize he was the man that had joined Lykos in kidnapping her, which meant she knew his name, Ira. Despite feeling the sudden urge to scowl at him, Iliana pasted on a polite smile and took the offered seat. It took everything she had and a deep breath to keep the smile in place as she looked around at the rest of the crew.

Like everyone she'd met so far, none of them appeared to be past their late twenties. She wondered if it was Lykos' personal preference, or an inability to find older men willing to follow his orders. Seated on the other side of Ira--as he'd placed her beside him, but at the end of the makeshift table--was an olive-skinned brunet with a scar cutting diagonally across his face. Her stomach churned at the thought of what lay behind his closed, left eye and she drug her eyes back to the table itself.

She wasn't all that surprised to see that dinner was no fancier than breakfast had been. Two loaves of bread sat in the center of the table, one of them having a few chunks tore off the end. Next to it was a bowl of grapes, a half-wheel of cheese, and a heaping pile of sauerkraut. Off the far end of the table sat two barrels stacked atop one another, the top with a valve shoved in the side. A glance at the mugs scattered around the table had Iliana deciding the barrel was most likely full of rum. It made sense, what with their being just off the coast of Eol. They were close enough that the fresh bread and fruit was still edible, and that the easiest alcohol to stock would be rum, since it was made from Eol's vast sugarcane fields.

An awkward silence had fallen over the gathering as Iliana studied the table. She imagined it came from their having no clue how to speak to her, a siren. She racked her mind for something to say, as her plan of growing closer to them wouldn't work if she just sat there, and eventually settled for nodding her head towards the barrels.

"I don't suppose I can get a mug?"

Alcohol--the common language of all sailors. Grins graced more than one face as one of the men across the table from her lurched to his feet, an empty mug in hand. "I'll get it!"

"You all probably already know, but I'm Iliana," she continued, attempting a false friendliness. "I know Ira, and Lykos, but what about the rest of you?"

As his name fell from her lips, she chanced a glance in his direction. Lykos had taken a seat at the head of the table, and was ignoring her in favor of fixing himself a plate. Apparently, food was more important than pissing her off.

"M'name's Heron."

The speaker was a brown skinned boy that looked to be a year or two younger than Iliana. A cheerful grin warmed his face and curiosity clearly shone behind his hazel eyes. His hair was trimmed nearly to his scalp, showing off a nasty scar that traveled backwards from his temple.

"Heron..." she mused. "That means hero in some languages, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, tone a tad sheepish. "Me Ma had big dreams for me, I guess."

"Better than me," the man who'd gone to fetch her rum chimed in as he offered her the mug. "My Ma had a few too many gentlemen callers to guess at me Da, so she just called me Abarron, guessin' I'd take after them in visiting the lassies."

His words were punctuated with a wink, and Iliana made a show of rolling her eyes. She had no doubt the man had an easy time backing up the statement. His brown face was distinctly handsome, and his black hair nearly as long as Lykos' locks. His eyes, a rather attractive shade of brown, showed her the statement had just been in fun, however, and not worth getting worked up over.

"Um... I don't know what mine means..."

The last member of the crew was distinctly smaller than the rest of the giant sized men. He looked to be about Iliana's height, with messy, golden blond hair. His skin was tanned, and just as scared as the rest. A dusting of freckles decorated his face, a distinct beauty on his right cheek, just below his dark-blue eyes. He shifted about a bit uneasily in his seat, looking quite put out by the idea of not being able to follow the others' lead.

"But, It's Sophos."

"Nice to meet all of you," Iliana greeted.

The last man, the one with the scar across his eye, had looked as if he had no intention of speaking up. So, she'd decided to move on. The others echoed her greeting, and the tension around the table seemed to ease up somewhat. Easy conversation about the day's travel flowed between them as they ate, with the entire group circling around the main issue-- that she was no guest, but a prisoner. As Iliana smiled, laughed, and made an effort to come off as anything but a normal, eighteen year-old girl.

That was, until the last man decided to add to the conversation.

"So, yer a siren."

Silence stretched between those present, and Iliana simply inclined her head in agreement.

"I am."

The man studied her with his good eye, his mug of rum clutched in front of him. "Never met one o' yer kind before, but ain't ya a bit too friendly? I heard ya tend to kill men on sight. Not sit'n talk with 'em."

There was a slight edge to his voice. It wasn't quite hostile, but bordering there. Iliana stiffened in response, but her reply--that she'd never killed a man and currently had no plans to change that--died on her tongue. Until that second, it hadn't really clicked. The sirens had killed her crew, not on purpose, but because they'd been in the area. Melitta said that singing was a part of them, that the sirens were always singing.

What did that mean when they reached Eol? Would she enchant men with her voice without intending to?

"Nuri," Lykos warned.

The hostile man scoffed in response, but looked away from Iliana. Instead of continuing the conversation, he seemed to shift his attention to downing the rest of his mug.

"Wake me for watch," he ordered Ira, then stood and instantly headed below deck.

The second he was out of sight, Sophos offered her an apologetic expression. "Ignore him, Nuri's an ass."

"Nah, that's an insult to asses," Abarron tagged on.

Laughter echoed around the table and once again, the tension died away. Iliana's mind was still churning, however. When she'd been in the village, there were some sirens whose voices always sounded musical. How did she make sure that wasn't her?

Knots formed in her stomach and she pushed her plate away. Her hands curled around her mug, a sick feeling filling the pit of her stomach.

For the first time since she'd left the island, Iliana realized her problems may have been bigger than a kidnapping. 

A/N: Another relaxed chapter. Unfortunately, we've got several of these before the real fun starts happening. I hope you found this one interesting, at least! What do you think about her dilemmas? How about the anklet and the tattoo?

What about the crew? You don't know much about them yet, but got any thoughts on the mixed bunch of guys?

I love hearing what you guys think~ See you next time! There are several fun things planned for that chapter, so I hope you're looking forward to it. :)