Celeste kept her head down as the sentries roved past again, their boot-clad feet scuffing across the damp dirt floor as they made the same rotation for the seventh time that hour. She felt more than saw one pause before her, a sigh of piqued interest slipping through his nose.
He'd been watching her like a predator stalking prey, ogling her in ways that made her want to snap his thin spine.
Be docile, she could hear Gandriel warn when they'd thrown together this makeshift plan to get her inside the slave trade to set the others free. Threatening them with disembowelment isn't going to help you.
She hated to admit that male had a point. Even if she had considered just slaughtering them all as an option.
She'd been impressed with Gandriel's impromptu winnowing act, startling enough it'd left the guards reeling as she'd slipped on a mask of fear and compliance. They'd hurriedly taken up defensive positions around her, ready for her to strike.
She'd done no such thing, instead simply letting them chain her. She listened to the murmurs of the other captives from Vanica as the guards half-carried her off to a dark corner, nailing her chain to the floor and toeing it roughly with their boots for good measure to make sure she was secure.
Layla was re-chained beside her, the sharp-eyed woman watching her with a mix of contempt and what Celeste almost pinned as gratitude.
They'd sat in silence for what felt like hours, the guards murmuring to themselves and glancing sidelong at Celeste in quiet victory, blatantly smug at having subdued a high fae woman so easily.
It's the iron, one of the louder ones had exclaimed, I told you it'd work on 'em.
Celeste had merely closed her eyes, hoping that their ignorance of her kind would keep their guard loose around her. She only had to bide her time-
Layla broke the silence with a barely discernable whisper.
"You came back for us," The woman's brow furrowed, distorting her soft features. "For all that we did to you, you came after us."
Celeste opened her eyes and only leveled a gaze at the woman, watching her.
Layla swallowed hard, blinking back tears. Celeste heard the rustling of the captured fishermen nearby, their attention flitting to her and the young widowed mother.
"That fae man . . . he took James and Marrien, he took Anelisse." Tears dribbled out of Layla's eyes and a quiet sob escaped her. "I failed my children and I do not know what to do."
Celeste considered remaining silent, the truth of what Gandriel would actually do with the children just behind her lips.
Layla let out another heart shattering sob as she pulled her knees to her burying her face in her tattered skirts.
"He won't hurt them," Celeste supplied, so quietly that only Layla could hear, glancing cautiously towards the far entrance of the room where the guards had congregated, laughing amongst themselves. "They are safe with him."
"And how would you know?" Layla hissed in reply, angry saturating her desperate tone, "Didn't he sell you back into this against your will after you had escaped?"
"Did he?" Celeste cast a pointed look at other woman, and faint understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes.
"You are surely not such a fool-"
Celeste held up the iron chains before Layla, willing her to see. Willing her to understand she could shred out of them with half a thought.
Layla suddenly blinked in understanding. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks with chained hands, then straightened herself against the wall of the chamber, looking at Celeste in disbelief, as though she were seeing her for the first time.
"You have to trust me."
"Quiet down there!" One of the guards had finally noticed the two whispering women and brandished a torch in their direction. "Enough talk out of the both of you."
Celeste only cast her gaze back down and pressed her shoulder into the hard stone of the wall, complacent and scared. The part she was to play.
"The captain will be back within the hour," the guard droned on, swishing the torch across to illuminate all of the captives, "you best be ready to move when he gets here."
"It's very cold," Marrien murmured, pressing close into Anelisse's front. She swayed slightly with the gait of the bay draft horse as he splashed along the sloppy roads they'd been navigating for several hours. "The rain is still falling."
Anelisse reached an arm around the child and patted her shoulder, a comforting gesture that she hoped was enough to placate her. "Only a little longer, we'll be there soon." James shivered where he rode in front of his sister and Anelisse tugged him closer beneath the dripping cloak.
They needed to get the children somewhere warm, and quickly, before illness set in.
"Isn't that right, Gandriel?" She glared down at the sodden male leading the plodding horse, his dark golden locks now a muddy brown from the downpour.
He muttered something under his breath in that language she had discovered he spoke. Something she likely didn't want the translation to.
"I didn't quite hear that," she replied with sickening sweetness, her fingers gripping the saddle beneath her a little too forcefully, "I'd hate to miss your ever-so-enlightening conversation."
"I said we're almost there, dearest Anelisse," he grumbled, shooting her a look over a shoulder, white teeth flashing in the faint light of the lantern he carried in an attempt to banish the impenetrable darkness engulfing them like a dark blanket. "And that I do hope her Majesty isn't too cold."
"Oh, I'm just perfect and warm as can be dear Gandriel," she hissed in response, contemplating pulling off one of her sodden slippers to throw at his head. "I was only inquiring to know when this lavish and wonderful trip was to come to a close."
"Maybe when you shut your fat mouth—"
"You indecent, swine-eating mutt, get over here and say that again-"
"I would if you weren't perched so high on your little box of self-importance -"
Anelisse reeled back to snarl a retort when Marrien's small voice piped up.
"Anelisse, are you and Mister Gandriel . . . together?"
Anelisse froze as the girl's words settled around her. She gave a small cough and spluttered, "W-what?" Even Gandriel had paused in his leading of the horse to send a mortified look towards the child. "Marrien, what did you just ask me?"
"If you and Mister Gandriel are courting each other," she felt the girl shift in front of her, "you sound a lot like how the sailors and young ladies at the tavern used to talk. Momma says boys being mean and calling you bad things just means they like you."
Anelisse felt a flush rush to her cheeks. "That is absolutely ridiculous, I would never in a million years even consider this pompous ass-"
"I was just curious." The little girl patted Anelisse's arm around her shoulders, as though she were offering her comfort. "You do sound like you like one another."
"No, Marrien," Anelisse assured her, glaring at Gandriel's back as he once again pulled at the rope, conveniently hiding his face. The gelding gave an annoyed snort and plodded after him. "I assure you that is not the case in any capacity." Quite the opposite, she grumbled internally.
"I agree." Gandriel's voice rang out from ahead as he navigated a particularly treacherous puddle of sticky mud. "I only like nice women, Marrien, something Anelisse doesn't know how to be."
"I'm perfectly nice to non-egotistical jerks."
"OH I'm the jerk now—"
A small giggle from Marrien. "Ooh James, I bet they've kissed."
"Marrien, please," the little boy croaked, sounding like he'd rather be anywhere else than there at that moment.
"You do realize I can hear you, don't you?" Anelisse inquired, glancing forward to give the child an incredulous look. The girl simply gave a nonplussed shrug, seeming oddly collected given the series of events she had been subjected to.
"I still think you have," she tapped her chin thoughtfully before turning and smiling brilliantly at Anelisse. "You would make very pretty babies."
The choking sound that came out of Gandriel only added to the intensity of incredulity on Anelisse's features as she tilted her face skywards. Perhaps the Mother would be gracious and would strike her with lightning to spare her this discussion.
"Marrien, dear, you don't even know where children come from," she offered softly, the fading blush on her cheeks deepening again as she prepared to divert the conversation elsewhere.
"Oh I do!" the girl exclaimed with pride, "They come from a momma's belly, like James did. Though I do wonder how they get in there . . . how does that happen, Anelisse?"
She really did not want to have this conversation.
"It's really . . . complicated, Marrien," she said, noting with no small amount of annoyance that Gandriel's shoulders were quivering with suppressed laughter, "and a talk we should have at another time."
"I know it takes a Mommy and a Daddy," the girl pondered aloud as Anelisse contemplated just how far away the ship was. "I bet it has something to do with that funny dance Eoin told me he and Celeste used to do at the docks."
Anelisse's world froze.
"Eoin Lingard?" she gaped in utter disbelief, thinking on the sharp-cheeked young sailor who had worked with Celeste at the docks, the cute one that she had on occasion seen her sister give a once over. "What did Eoin say he and Celeste were doing, exactly?"
How low she had stooped, that she'd been reduced to getting gossip from a small child about her now-abducted sister's former love affairs as she fled slavers in the deep of night.
"I don't remember, I just know Eoin said he didn't have a shirt and Miss Celeste was a red as a tomato." Such a pleased statement from the child. James only groaned in embarrassment.
Anelisse's flush deepened further. Oh.
"She's not the only one that looked like a tomato," Gandriel taunted as he grinned up at her, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Pay attention to the road!" she snapped.
He only laughed in response and immediately stepped into a deep puddle.
Anelisse couldn't suppress her snort at the sudden squelch of mud and furious muttering as Gandriel slipped, the lantern he carried flickering dangerously.
Yes, she mused, the Mother indeed had a sense of humor.
The captain, Dermot, did appear within the hour as promised, much to the chagrin of the guards who flinched as his voice rose in a crescendo of reprimand.
He was a tall, well-built human with silver-flecked hair cropped close to his head. His features were fairly bland but the broad shoulders beneath his light mail shirt and his eagle-sharp eyes told Celeste this man was not as foolish or as weak as the other buffoons that were watching over them.
She noted the details silently, knowing he'd be the one to look out for. He was like the slavers that Fallon had warned about.
Dermot had been beyond furious when he heard of how Gandriel had fooled the guards into believing such lies about his 'contract' and how they had foolishly let him escape with not only Anelisse but the two children in tow.
His sharp reprimands had echoed throughout the tunnels as he dealt out punishment to each of the men, his fist snapping across their faces like a whip.
Celeste tried to keep the amusement inside, her features schooled into a picture of subdued neutrality.
"Where's the fae bitch," Dermot seethed as he glanced around the room. His eyes honed in on Celeste as she watched him and he waved a hand. "Bring her to me."
She didn't fight as the leader of the guards dragged her upright and shoved her roughly forward, a dagger pressed to her back.
"She's here, sir," he said. "That male said she doesn't have any resurrection powers though, just a shoddy healer."
"I'll decide that for myself."
Dermot snapped a sharp glare towards the guard behind Celeste, holding a hand out for her shackles. The man handed them over quickly before cowering away. Dermot pulled Celeste close, enough that she could smell the faint remnants of wine on his breath as he assessed her.
"Oddly beautiful even for a fae whore," he clicked his tongue as he reached down to grip her chin, twisting her face to the side as he assessed her. "And surprisingly well-behaved, considering the hell it supposedly was to capture her."
He turned her face back towards his, a small cruel smile twisting his features, "A pity, really. Breaking their fire is the fun part."
Celeste struggled to keep her temper in check as she allowed him to appraise her, kept her hands limp even though she craved to rip his eyes from his skull.
"She'll have to do." He dropped his hand from her face and snapped his fingers at the guards. "Get the blue bane chains, you idiots, she could tear through this iron like paper." He turned an amused glance back to her. "Isn't that right, pretty?"
She only locked her gaze with his, a battle of dominance between star-flecked violet and dark onyx.
"But you won't, will you?" he cooed, suddenly grabbing her hair as he kneed her painfully in the stomach, forcing the breath from her lungs. She crumpled to the floor. "Behave pretty and I might make this less horrible on you."
Celeste slumped on her knees, clutching her stomach and panting a bit more forcefully than necessary as she allowed her mind to reel back to her darkest memories, sending a shudder dancing across her shoulders. She was supposed to be scared.
"You leave that girl alone," a single shaky female voice rose behind Celeste and she jerked her head painfully to the source. "You cowardly bastard."
It was Pennelope, her lovely brown curls tangled as she stood up beside her husband, her dark eyes flashing with defiance.
Celeste willed her to sit, to keep quiet. Because if Dermot went after Pennelope . . . she knew she would not remain complacent.
Dermot glanced at the woman, watching her momentarily as though weighing his options before entirely dismissing her, no more than a noisy rodent.
"Get the fae bitch chained," he simply ordered calmly, adjusting his dark leather gloves. "We need to get them up and moving before the storm dies down."
The guards scrambled for a chest in the corner as Dermot looked at Celeste with an amused smile. "And you, my dear, aren't fooling anyone."
She narrowed her eyes at the man but before she could react she met with a sudden blow across her face, sharp and stinging, sending her vision fading to black.
The tunnels were a dark labyrinth of dusty cobwebs and the faint smell of stagnation. Abandoned millennia ago, nothing dwelled within them any longer and only the bits of crumbled stone and whistling winds from some unknown crack in their depths remained. This was where Celeste went for quiet, when her poorly controlled emotions became a burden and she needed a place to think, to just be.
A place where even her family could not find her. Her own sacred sanctuary.
She had known punching that older boy would only get her into a heap of trouble but she wasn't willing to let him continue his harassment of that young fae boy. That refugee child with the hollow-looking black eyes.
Wandering down the familiar corridors, she relied on her memory and sense of touch to guide her in the pitch-black tunnels. Any other child would have been terrified of the engulfing darkness and silence that the ancient evacuation routes harbored, but for Celeste it was a refuge.
The sight of that too-thin boy pressed up against the wall begging them to stop flitted through her mind . . . she had not thought, had only acted. They might have been over twice her size but they only possessed a fraction of her fury.
She'd barely registered what she had done until the older boys' friends had peeled her off him. It had taken three of them to pry her loose, her fists still slamming furiously into their friend's face as they threw her back.
She'd landed on her side, the rough cobblestone tearing through her thin shirt and skinning her side and knees. She had been up in only a matter of moments, seething from the adrenaline coursing through her system, fists balling at her side as her wings flared.
"I said, leave him alone!"
They had turned to her scathingly when their gazes finally landed on her face, recognition flaring in their eyes. It'd be near impossible to not know who she was.
The tallest of the boys murmured, a dark-haired high fae child, backing up a fearful step.
It had taken them only a few moments to realize just who intervened in their little game before their faces had blanched and they'd offered some half-hearted apologies and pleas that she wouldn't tell her father before fleeing.
She'd spat at them.
She'd helped the thin boy up and he'd feebly introduced himself as Connor, offering his thanks before bowing, deeply, before her and muttering about needing to get home. She'd wanted to ask him if he wanted to be friends, but the question had died on her lips.
Instead she had only nodded as he ran off, traitorous tears beginning to streak down her face. The hatred of those children made such anger and sorrow race through her, the familiar cold sensation of being outcast blooming in her chest.
She knew she'd likely be scolded for both her actions and wandering off but she'd opted to sneak down into the tunnels beneath the city, to sit in the darkness until she could calm her storm of emotion, and to keep her family from seeing.
Celeste had been introduced to the secret tunnels when the kind sweet-shop owner had found her in a corner of the alley crying one afternoon after a group of children had abandoned her the middle of a game of hide and seek. She'd spent hours wandering trying to find them, wholly unaware they'd fled to the other side of the city to play and avoid her.
The kind woman had only offered her a piece of one of her favored candies before holding up a secretive finger to her lips and showing her the old entrance to the tunnels behind her store. She had said she would tell no one of Celeste's newly found hiding spot and that it'd be their little secret.
Celeste had never told her family of it.
And so, on the days when her brother was preoccupied with lessons and she was free to wander about and play as she pleased, she'd taken to exploring in the tunnels alone.
She'd never been very good at making friends and most of the local children found her love of dark and strange things odd. And when her brother wasn't there to play, well . . . she was alone.
Not wanting her family to worry, she'd made do, enjoying her own company more than the other children's as she traced forgotten paths through the ancient labyrinth.
Celeste's fingers brushed the familiar notch on the far left wall of the tunnel, the indicator that she was nearly to her hiding spot. Counting her steps, she quickly turned to the left down the branching corridor and made her way a hundred and two paces before she stopped, the sweet smell of her candy stash tickling her nose and lifting her spirits considerably.
Yes, being here for a while would fix things, then she could run home before dinner and her family would be none the wiser.
Celeste's eyes fluttered open as the dream faded, the one that had started occurring after reviving Gandriel. The dark walls of the tunnels and scent of stale air were replaced with the muffled whisper of lapping water nearby and the stench of armed men. Dermot had knocked her out before moving her, she realized, clarity filtering back in.
The human male was certainly more intelligent than the other slavers had been.
A sudden wave of nausea overtook Celeste as she felt her very existence push inwards, as though cringing away. Glancing down, she caught sight of heavy blue chains about her wrists and waist. Faebane.
She lifted her head to take in her surroundings but a sharp pain laced through her temple, causing her to close her eyes and press her forehead against the floor once more.
"Be still, layl," a thickly accented but somehow whispery female voice murmured, "you've been unconscious for some time."
Celeste squinted and the face of a beautiful lesser fae female swam into focus above her. Her head was loosely covered in a scarf of dark silk, but several ebony curls escaped it. The deep shadows only highlighted her magnificent eyes: sharply slanted and colored a pale, metallic gold, broken by slit pupils which dilated in the low light. The female shifted, reaching toward Celeste with a gloved hand, and the faint lanternlight glistened off her skin, highlighting pockets of deep indigos and blues woven together in repetitive geometric patterns near her eyes and across her high arched cheeks.
"Come, layl, I will help you up." She offered her hand again and Celeste tentatively grasped it, allowing the fae woman to prop her against the wall.
"Where am I?" Celeste croaked, her throat dry as she glanced around at her surroundings, noting no others in the dark room, just herself and the other fae woman. As her eyes adjusted and her head cleared, she registered swollen wooden walls and the permeating smell of the sea. They'd taken her aboard a boat, she realized, a sense of dread overcoming her. "Where are the others, the humans?"
"They brought you, alone, bound in the bane chains a few hours ago." The woman rattled her own blue chains, clamped tightly about her wrists. "They separated us from them, likely keeping us chained and more heavily guarded."
Celeste swallowed the lump in her throat, assessing.
"Who are you?"
"Naita of the Naagalata Tribe." Celeste caught a flash of fangs as her companion frowned. "I was captured on my way to Rask in search of items for my Lady." The female quirked her head. "And you are?"
"My name is Celeste," she offered, weakly raising her chained hands to rub at her eyes. "Where are we?"
"Aboard the vessel the Loreley," the female replied. Her voice was deep and musical, but with a slight hissing quality to it. "They brought the humans aboard first, confining them to the lower levels. I believe we're the only fae aboard."
She clicked her tongue, still studying Celeste. "They've been coming in periodically to see if you've woken up. I suspect you're to be given to the Captain as a play thing," she added with disgust.
"That's the idea," Celeste replied in barely a whisper, a plan forming as she noted the two guards watching rather nervously them from just outside the room, their hands on their bows and quivers strapped to their hips, no doubt full of ash arrows.
Naita blinked her mesmerizing eyes once in surprise. Celeste watched the woman, that invisible tug leading her once more.
"How do you feel about playing a little game with our dear captors?"
The Naagalata female's eyes burned like embers.