Iliana's story had been interrupted shortly after it began by the unexpected creek of the door. Several heavy footsteps echoed through the room, but they didn't approach her cell. Instead, they entered Caydel's. There, a few sharp words were barked, followed by a stomach-churning thud. Had they kicked him?

Someone sighed, and there was a heavy shuffling, before Caydel was escorted from his cell. She only knew he was missing by the silence that followed no matter how many times she whispered his name. Fear for his well-being filled her despite her best wishes. His company was warm, and his absence returned her dark cell to a fearful chill.

In the end, it left her alone with her thoughts. And, as tended to happen in these moments, Iliana sought solace in her memories.

The cold stung harsher on an empty stomach.

Iliana's body couldn't seem to decide what should make it harder to move. There was the way her stomach seemed to curl into itself, searching for food that hadn't been provided for days, but also the frozen air that blew through the alley hovel she currently claimed.

Neither issue could be fixed by staying there, so she crawled to her feet, resting numb fingers against a dirty brick wall. Her head spun, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt to and fro. But, soon, it settled.

The world outside her alley wasn't much better. The townsfolk steered clear of her, which suited her just fine, but made work hard to find.

Agata at the bakery had hired a new apprentice, and wasn't even around to shoo her off himself. The blacksmith spat at the ground and cursed about how no girl would ever be allowed in his workshop. Apparently the rumors about her secret had finally reached his ears. The tanner apologized, but he couldn't afford to let her clean his skins. She didn't have a good hand for those sort of things, and the hunt had been scarce this winter.

In the end, all she had was the docks. Well, it was the only safe bet, at least.

The folks there were migratory for the most part, never sticking around long enough to catch rumors. Even if sailors were as bad as anyone else about gendered superstition, as long as she kept her hair short and her clothes baggy, no one looked twice at a scrawny kid.

Her luck was poor, of course. In the end, there were only two ships at port, and one of them was a nobleman's. Iliana couldn't risk approaching nobility, as even with the dirt that stained her, there was always the risk someone would recognize her and cart her off in hopes of winning Kyril's favor. So, it was really just the one. The Airlea.

"Hello?"

The gangplank was down, but silence was all that met her call. Hesitance pitted against her hunger as she stared at what she could see of the empty deck. She didn't want to anger potential employers by trespassing, but she also didn't have much time to waste here. If no one at the dock was willing to hire, she'd have to go check the seedier part of town. Sometimes folks there would be willing to pay a coin or two to a kid willing to run a message, or stick their nose where it didn't belong. She'd been avoiding them since the rumors started spinning--as street girls had a habit of disappearing in those parts, it was one of the main reasons she disguised herself to begin with--but if they were all she had left, she'd take the risk.

So, she tried calling out three times more, before stepping away. Just as she'd turned her back to the ship, however, a loud thump and curse broke the air. Curiosity had her looking to the Airlea, just as a figure appeared atop the gangplank. Disappointment hit her as she realized the newcomer couldn't have been but a year or two older than herself, if that. Likely he was a lookout or cabin boy. Neither had the authority to hire a porter.

He bore the dark skin of a foreigner, but the sleeveless attire of someone comfortable with the cold. His warm brown eyes focused on Iliana, skimming her from head to toe with a frown, before refocusing on her face with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I was asleep up top. Took a moment for me to realize someone was calling, and then some more to actually get down."

Had he jumped part of the way? Was that the reason for the curses she'd heard? Iliana opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when the boy sheepishly tugged at his gray, knitted cap.

"If it's work you're looking for, Art-er, Captain is out. But, I think most of the unloading was done earlier. We might have something later in the week, though. I can ask when he gets back. Sorry."

His words weighed like lead in her empty stomach. Later in the week maybe. Hunger would have her too weak to do heavy dock work then. And that was if the captain was even willing to hire her.

"Thank you," she told the sailor, despite the weariness that seemed to overtake her in that moment. After all, it wasn't his fault she was like this.

She'd been the one to run. Most days, Iliana didn't regret leaving that estate behind. Ones like this, however... they made it hard. Living as the bloodied bride of a viscount had to be better than a starving gutter rat, right?

Whatever the answer, it wouldn't fill her stomach, and it certainly couldn't alter the choices she'd already made. So, Iliana turned and started the heavy path off the dock.

"Wait! Sorry, I just--hold on a second!"

Once again, Iliana paused. When she turned back to the Airlea this time, the sailor was half-way down the plank. He stopped midway, eyeing the last few steps as if they were a coiled snake. It took but a second for him to overcome whatever had frightened him, however, and he crossed the distance.

"Here."

It wasn't until then that she realized that sometime after Iliana had turned away, the sailor had fetched a gunny sack. He offered it to her, but she made no effort to take it.

"Take it," he urged her. "Otherwise it'll get wasted. We've leftover from the trip, Captain is out ordering fresh supplies right now. Anything questionable will get tossed since we can't risk disease at sea. It isn't charity, you'd be doing me a favor."

She snorted, but didn't argue. Her head spun too much for that. The second the bag was in her hand, the boy grinned, and turned away. He practically sprinted up the gangplank, before pausing at the edge of the ship's railing.

"Later this week, okay?"

Then, he was gone.

It wasn't until Iliana had made it back to her alleyway and opened the sack that she realized his bluff.

No sailor would throw away fresh produce.

She hadn't gone back later in the week. Her suspicions about the nobleman's ship had proved true, and Iliana had ended up fleeing town to duck the soldiers that started searching the streets. It was a short tale, one that Kain likely didn't remember. After all, what cause did he have to connect the dirty, starving street kid she'd been then, to the equally starving stowaway that'd hid on their ship several towns, and weeks later? Coincidences like that weren't supposed to happen.

Iliana had recognized him, of course. It was the reason she chose their ship. At the time, she'd been amazed, and thought that perhaps the gods were finally sparing her some luck.

Now, her hand reached for her anklet as the memory played across her mind. Had that truly been luck? Or had it been the strings of fate drawing them together?

Iliana wasn't sure she wanted to know.

┈♔◦𓇣◦☽◦❤◦☾◦𓇣◦♔┈

Iliana had no idea how much time passed before the guards returned with Caydel in tow, but she knew it wasn't short. At least, she guessed it wasn't.

They must not have been under as strict rules with Caydel as they were with her, because even without seeing it, she could tell they tossed him in by the loud thump that echoed through the dark. Seconds passed without the guards leaving. Each heartbeat of silence strained her frayed nerves. Were they dragging her out next? Would it be to Zuher again?

Fear wared with anticipation. As, even if being in front of the emperor terrified her, at least it meant she wouldn't be in the dark any longer. She wouldn't be lost in memories of years best forgotten, echoes of pain lacing her body.

Steps approached her door, followed by the rattle of keys.

"Courtesy of His Imperial Majesty."

Something crashed onto the floor in front of her, followed by a thump. Iliana didn't move from the wall, as the noise said the guard was close, but she couldn't quite pinpoint where. Bumping into them didn't seem wise.

The cell was relocked, and, finally, the guards left.

"Miss me?" Caydel asked.

His voice sounded stronger, which was almost as much a relief as the joke itself. He'd been dragged out for healing. Zuher had mentioned he would call for the witch doctor. It seemed he hadn't forgotten.

"Of course not."

She felt the floor until she could find what had been dropped. It only came as a slight surprise when her hand met a metal bowl. Chunks of bread, cheese, and something else filled the dish. The last thing was squishy, and despite her apprehension, Iliana brought her finger to her lips. Meat. Under-cooked was her best guess given the taste and texture, but it was better than nothing.

It took everything she had not to shovel the food into her mouth. Guided by her years on the streets, she only took a few bites, before searching for the other thing that had been dropped. A waterskin reached her hands, and some tension left her body. She wouldn't be starved or deprived of water, here. Not to the point of death, at least.

"Finish your story," Caydel requested.

She could hear him move closer. Was he resting against the wall that separated them? There was something comforting about the thought.

Seeing no reason to refuse when it would help her resist gorging on the food and making herself sick, Iliana started talking again. She told him about how it felt to starve, and about how that food had been the only thing that kept her alive in the weeks that followed. She didn't tell him about Kyril. She didn't trust him well enough for that. But, she must have gotten the point across, because when she finally stopped talking, there was genuine warmth in Caydel's reply.

"He sounds like a wonderful person, this friend."

"He is."

Silence followed, then, broken only by the occasional question and answer. This time, she participated in the game. They traded back in forth, filling the mind-numbing dark with inane questions about favorites and childhood adventures.

He told her of his favorite hiding place on his home estate. Apparently his family had a generations-old flower garden that was so thick a kid could hide themselves away in the greenery without risk of being found by a servant.

She shared a story of the first time she tried hunting with a bow and how it was harder than it looked. Caydel laughed at that, confidently, if not a little cockily, sharing that he was an excellent shot.

"Rivaled my teachers, even, with how quickly I learned."

Caydel, she realized as the stories went on, was a talented person if his stories were to be believed. Proud as well.

"There's no reason to deny what I'm good at. It makes it easier to cover up for what I lack. Weaknesses may endear you to a subordinate on occasion, but they also create holes for your enemies to attack."

Caydel was important. She'd known he was nobility. But now, she knew he couldn't be less than a marquess. Especially with how he spoke of enemies.

Just as her curiosity reached a boiling point, and she was about to ask a direct question, his newest request halted her thoughts.

"How about something less personal," Caydel said. "Tell me of Cieon."

"You're Cieonian?" she asked.

"Born and raised. You couldn't tell from my accent?"

She had, had a passing thought about it, but had dismissed it when she couldn't instantly figure out the answer.

"I didn't want to assume."

"Oh. Well, no worries, then."

"I don't know much of what is going on there," Iliana said after a moment. "I haven't had much opportunity to listen to gossip recently."

Caydel laughed. "I would imagine not. Still, something is better than nothing. They're careful not to tell me anything, here. Too afraid of angering Zuher, I think."

She was right. Caydel was important.

"How long have you been here? So I know where to start."

Silence fell. While Caydel seemed to debate what he should share, Iliana focused on what she knew. It felt like the truth of the matter was just barely out of her reach. She had all the puzzle pieces, just no clue of how they fit together.

"Half-a-year, I think. Time flows differently, as you might have noticed. But, I think it's been a year. It was barely summer when I arrived. Umae's Month."

Gods. Three months. "We've just entered Koun's Month. Were you alone all that time?"

"For the most part."

"As far as I'm aware, nothing of great importance happened with Cieon in the last few months. Heavy tensions with Reotak, of course. But..." She trailed off, and Caydel laughed. Given their situation, she doubted there was much need to expand on that. "Otherwise, nothing. Most of my information is old, I'm afraid. Last I heard, they were looking forward to the remarriage of the prince. I think another ball was to be held?"

"That ball was called off," Caydel told her, dry amusement in his voice. "Happened just before I left for the border. Seems your information is as old as mine."

"The prince didn't want to get married?"

Something about the conversation was nagging at her, something important. It made the topic impossible to drop.

"He didn't want to get remarried. Whoever he wed would just end up with a target on their back, the same as his previous wife. Reotak is thorough with their assassinations. Just secretive enough to lack all evidence, but public enough that there is no doubt who is causing the deaths. Many of the royal family have died to their schemes."

That was it--the missing detail.

Caydel.

The name was an important one, for a reason that had been buried due to the hazy state of her mind. Caydel Okeanos the First was the current king of Cieon. The first, because his eldest son had also been named Caydel, but he had died before Iliana was born.

It wasn't a name just any Cieonian would claim--let alone a noble.

"You called yourself Caydel."

Silence.

It weighed heavily on the air. Heartbeats passed, followed only with the slow, even sound of breathing. Then, finally, Caydel laughed.

"I thought I would at least last a day."

She'd guessed he was important? Iliana almost wanted to laugh, too. Calling Caydel important was like calling the sun bright.

"I picked Caydel, because it was just close enough to not be a lie. Del is my name. Del Okeanos."

The ninth prince of Cieon.

"My mother picked Del, because she wanted to honor my father, but didn't want to seem like she was eyeing the crown. Ironic, isn't it?"

Del Okeanos. The crown prince of Cieon.

He was her cellmate. 

A/N: And, there you have it. What will probably be the most easily guessed mystery of Mermaid Tear. 

Did you anticipate it? There were a few clues last book that this would be coming. Can you remember them? 

What of the story? That what you expected? 

P.S. Do you believe I finished this chapter on Monday? I'm suddenly on a roll. Hope this keeps up! 

See you next week, for the last weekly update.