"Should be pleasin' enough for the Captain," the maid assessed briskly, her lined face set with deep shadows in the faint lanternlight. Her old wrinkled hands tugged deftly at the fastening of the gown. "Now, best mind your manners, prickle-ear or you'll be right back in the stuffy underbelly. Captain's none too pleased about losing that pretty blonde but the prospect of beddin' a faerie has 'im interested."
The woman tied off the last lace that looped through the tight crushed velvet corset hugging Celeste's lithe form, tugging it closed none too gently. The luxurious cream fabric was embroidered with faint rose patterns that shifted with every breath Celeste took, laced so tight in fact she feared if she inhaled too deeply the stitching would pop. Squinting her eyes at her, the maid turned to a chest and procured a light lace shawl, delicately laying it across Celeste's bare shoulders before pinning it in place.
Clicking her tongue, the maid gave her a final once-over, adjusting stray wisps of loose hair that she spent hours on back into place atop the towering mess of curls that now perched precariously atop Celeste's head.
"'Ave a look, girl."
The woman turned Celeste towards the tall mirror leaning heavily against the cabin's wall, bits of fabric and twine scattered about it. But Celeste saw no sign of the missing weapon she was looking for amongst the bits of lace and gossamer.
No she had yet to spot the leather pommeled weapon Naita had described to her in rapid hushed whispers before she'd been hauled out of the hull of the ship and into this powder room. The one Dermot had personal pried from the woman's grasp when they'd finally managed to down her.
From the image Naita had painted it sounded as though several of the slavers hadn't walked away from their confrontation with the lesser fae.
Celeste couldn't say she had been particularly sad about their demise.
Rather, Celeste noted with a hint of bitterness, she was more annoyed at the prospect that the Naagalata woman was likely having a nicer time in the belly of ship waiting than she was playing dress up.
Celeste barely suppressed the eye roll as she finally looked herself over, the sheer absurdity of her attire nearly eliciting a snort of disbelief. The gown was preposterous, a monstrosity of gossamer and tulle that sat tight against her torso but flared wide about her legs. The petticoat was so large she knew if she turned too suddenly she'd knock the items off the table behind her.
Taking a tentative step, she noted none too pleasantly that It was nearly impossible to move in. She was certain had she undone each stitch of ruffles, she could have fashioned an entire rope from their length.
The maid had slipped her into far more scandalous bits of lace beneath the gown prior, however, whispering it was the captain's preference since he was of fine standing and not some filthy street urchin or mercenary, before she'd easily secured tall lace stockings beneath the gown and slipped Celeste's feet into heeled shoes of a similar cream shade.
Some ridiculous, modest human fashion.
She looked like a cream puff.
The maid made quick work of pinning an oversized white hat adorned with feathers to her hair before scampering off around Celeste and out into the hallway, no doubt calling her escort to the Captain's chambers. Celeste didn't fail to notice that, for all her finery, they hadn't risked removing the faebane chains. She closed her eyes and suppressed another wave of nausea that rose to meet her. She was useless with the stone clamped about her wrists and struggled to even remain upright, bits of sweat beading along her skin beneath the already suffocating gown.
Between the gown and the chains, she realized how truly limited her mobility would be and that would have to rely on other means to get herself out. She knew Naita only waited for the signal below deck, that the Viper, as she had called herself, would strike as soon as she saw the opening and as soon as she had her whip in hand.
That was if Celeste could get her the opening and find the weapon.
She'd been shuffled into this room nearly two hours prior to be scrubbed and groomed until she was deemed "presentable" before her dinner with the so-called "honorable captain." As if there was anything honorable about slaving.
She'd been slowly gleaning information from the maid's rambling as she washed and dressed her and had come to the conclusion this captain was a man of some notoriety, and apparently susceptible to big eyes and soft lips of the opposite gender and prone to fits of rage only when challenged or questioned.
Much like many of the men she'd met during her time in the human lands, easy enough to placate and please if the need arose. So, a fair, docile maiden was the role she was to play.
She flicked her legs in irritation against the heavy fabric, contemplating snagging one of the small pairs of fabric scissors and stuffing it into the folds of her gown when the maid returned, holding the door open as Dermot strode in, his face plastered in what Celeste now assumed was a permanent scowl.
"She's dressed awful nice." Dermot noted, raising a thick brow skeptically as he took in her groomed appearance.
"Cap'n's orders, dog," the maid snipped, breezing past him and pulling Celeste forward. Her ankles nearly twisted in the heeled shoes as she righted herself. The maid had made her disdain for the slaver clear from the moment Celeste had been dragged up to this stuffy room. Dermot's shoulders tightened in irritation at the woman's insult and she promptly ignored him. "You're only to escort her to 'im and then be on your way, we set sail within the hour."
"Your captain is a fool if he thinks dressing her like a fine lady will change what she is, maid." Dermot sent a look of disgust at Celeste which nearly had her own lip peeling back in response. Instead she schooled her features into distrust, glancing away from him and taking a careful step back.
The maid was unruffled.
"None of your concern." The woman quickly made a final adjustment Celeste's skirts before dragging her over to Dermot, slapping her chains into his gloved hands. "Now, be on your way before you anger 'im."
Dermot opened his mouth to retort but was silenced as the woman swiftly shuffled the two out of the small cabin into the narrow hall. She stopped only briefly to level a gaze at the slaver. "Be mindful, you lay a hand on 'er it'll be your head that'll roll."
And with that she slammed the door in their faces.
Celeste blinked at the abrupt dismissal, letting her timid mask slip for a moment into a smirk as she scented the rage from the slaver. His dark eyes snapped up to her own - she simply sent him a polite smile in response.
The maid while stern had been decent enough to Celeste but had treated Dermot like mud beneath her heels. It brought a bout of joy to Celeste that nearly had her laughing in delight. It seemed she'd played her role of the helpless female well and the maid had bit into it with fervor.
Either that or the slaver was simply so unlikeable the woman would have treated him so regardless of who she'd been dressing.
"Shall we?" Celeste delicately outstretched her fingers, giving him another simpering smile as she motioned at him to lead.
Dermot's eyes narrowed beneath his dark brows before he roughly gripped the chains about her wrists and dragged her in front of him, nearly sending her tumbling. He paused only long enough to grip the back of her dress, his voice a rasp in her ear. "Don't try me, bitch."
Celeste contemplated slamming her heel into his toe.
A rather pointed cough sounded from behind the door and Dermot loosened his grip with a snarl, pushing her forward down the hallway toward the narrow stairs leading to the deck. Celeste followed slowly, noting her surroundings and cataloguing each doorway and hallway, noting as she set her foot on the worn steps that the staircase descended to another level below.
Likely where the other captives from Vanica were now being held.
On deck, Celeste blinked and squinted as a sudden blaze of fading sunlight illuminated her face. They still appeared to be near shore, but crew members scurried about, clearly preparing to cast off. Most of the men quickly averted their gazes and went about their business, although a few brave souls sent Celeste second glances, from either surprise at her fae heritage or amusement at her attire, she wasn't certain.
Dermot gave her another harsh shove forward, leading her toward a large and elaborately carved oak door leading off the deck. He shot her a stern look, then rapped his knuckles on the smooth surface three times. The sound of shuffling papers and the scraping legs of a chair sounded before the door swung open to reveal a rather plump middle-aged human, his coppery hair thinning in the center of his scalp and his nose too long and too hooked for his narrow face.
From the scent that wafted off of him he must have just freshly washed, bits of moisture still clung to the few remaining bits of hair combed across his forehead-not that it did much for the stench of the sweat already beginning to soak his shirt and bead across his brow. He procured a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his face.
"Lord Bardell," Dermot greeted, sounding equally as pleased to see the captain as Celeste was.
"Ah, Dermot! A pleasure as always," the man beamed, his voice a high nasally pitch as he surveyed them and stopped, his eyes landing on Celeste and widening significantly. "And this must be the lady . . ."
He stopped for a moment, his jaw nearly slack as he took her in. Celeste resisted the urge to bristle but instead looked up at him with what she hoped was piqued interest. "Oh my, aren't you exquisite," he breathed, staring shamelessly. Dermot gave a small cough and the captain blinked and stepped back, opening the door to them. "Come in, come in!"
Celeste keep her eyes to the ground as she shuffled into the room, illuminated brightly by the last rays of the sun and far more candles than could be considered safe on a wooden ship. The interior was decorated in fine pastel colors with a large dark wooden table at its center. Against the far wall sat an equally oversized canopy bed, hung in heavy brocade embellished with fat-overstuffed pillows in the same pale hue. Quarters luxurious enough for a well-to-do captain.
Celeste risked a glance back and watched as Bardell nodded his head once nervously to himself before shutting the door behind them. He brushed a hand down the front of his fine velvet jacket and tried to discreetly suck in the girth about his waist. Not a man used to physical labor then. The jacket he wore was a lavish deep navy embordered with fine golden thread. Far finer than any mercenary could afford; a lord's son perhaps?
Looking about uncertainly, Celeste toyed with the sleeve of her gown, playing every bit the unsure maiden. With a swift sweep of her eyes she noted Dermot did not look the least bit convinced as he gripped her chains firmly. Bardell, however, looked primed to take the bait as he bustled back over toward the table, sending a reproachful glance towards Dermot who gave a harsh tug at her wrists.
"Move."
Celeste let out a pained whimper, allowing a short gasp to well up between her lips as she stumbled clumsily to the slaver.
She tried not to beam as she watched Bardell take notice, frowning irritably at her captor. The captain held out a gloved hand impatiently. "Really, Dermot, that is entirely unnecessary. Remove the chains from the poor girl."
"Absolutely not," the man snapped, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Have you gone mad?"
"That wasn't a request, Dermot," Bardell responded, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Look at her!" he gestured towards Celeste, "She is a fearful maiden, not some swine that will be used to do the drudgery. Now, the key, if you will."
"Captain, I must remind you, this is no ordinary human woman," Dermot hissed. "Leave her chained if you value your life."
The captain's gaze sharpened. "It was my money that bought her, if I recall correctly," he replied, undeterred. "She is to be my guest, not my prisoner. Her chains, now."
Dermot looked primed to retort but instead dug through his pocket before procuring a key and handing it over to Bardell alongside Celeste's chains, a muscle in his jaw feathering in annoyance.
The captain gently slipped the key into the lock of the chains and, with a soft click, the blue stone slipped free and fell to the thick rug with a solid thud. Relief immediately rushed through Celeste as she tried her best not to gasp in as clarity, cool and soothing, flooded her.
Bardell must have noticed her unsteadiness as he eased a hand under Celeste's arm to steady her, watching her with a longing he didn't bother to hide. Celeste shot him a coy look from beneath the hat, a maiden struggling to hide her interest. She resisted the urge to gag.
"Your slaves are in the hold beneath the boat," Dermot spoke up briskly, suddenly seeming eager to be on his way. Celeste didn't fail to notice how his stance became suddenly guarded as he watched her carefully, his hand slipping to rest on the pommel of his ash dagger in his belt, something he'd brandished at her previously.
"Dermot, you know we've discussed this," Bardell bristled, looking at the slaver reproachfully. "They're not slaves, they're merely . . . cargo. Free labor if you will. We don't use such coarse language," a sidelong glance at Celeste, ". . . especially in the company of ladies."
She couldn't help but blink at the audacity of it all, curling her fingers into her palm before she attacked either of the men before her.
Dermot snorted. "Call it what you will. I received the first part of your payment three days ago, I expect the rest before the end of the week."
Bardell didn't seemed fazed as he turned his attention back to Celeste.
"You're excused." He flicked a wrist at Dermot, dismissing him entirely. "I'll see to it that the rest of your payment is delivered in two days' time, and, of course, you are to speak of this to no one."
"You are a fool," Dermot murmured as he watched Celeste with eagle-sharp eyes. "You can wrap a wolf in lace and call it a lapdog all you like, it'll still tear out your throat the moment your back is turned."
Bardell paid him no heed, seeming to have not even heard him as he busied himself at the table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Dermot showed himself out, his eyes only leaving Celeste as he shut the door behind him.
"Please allow me to get you a seat, my lady," Bardell chimed, his nearly stumbling as he rushed to pull out an overstuffed chair upholstered in fair pink floral, no doubt the captain's preference given her dress's similarity.
Celeste glided over to the table and allowed him to help her into the chair, the tassels from his shoulders catching in the delicate pins the maid had slipped into her hair.
"It is truly an honor to meet you, madame," Bardell gave a sweeping bow, the light from the hanging lanterns reflecting off the smooth skin of his scalp. "I am Lord Bardell, seventh son of the Bardell Merchant family . . . but you may call me Rufus."
"A pleasure . . . Rufus," Celeste supplied easily, trying not to sink into the relief of being free of the bane chains. She glanced about the room as she let herself settle and look comfortable, even as her mind ran through every possible escape route. "It is such a relief to be away from that cruel man. I give you my sincerest thanks."
A blush crept up the man's cheeks that reaffirmed her suspected hold over him. "Of . . . of course, my lady, you are, after all, my guest." He filled both glasses with wine, his eyes never leaving her face as he held one out to her. "Now, if you are feeling less faint, let us have dinner."
Celeste smiled warmly as she took the glass, sipping at it as she listened to shouts from the deck and braced against the slight jolt as the ship pulled away from port. The poor fool had no idea he'd just let a fox loose in the chicken coop.
"Your vessel is most . . . impressive," Celeste hummed, glancing around the beautifully constructed cabin, wooden beams and trim carved with delicate lilies and blossoming vines, a fine a ship as any. Realizing she'd directed her attention from the captain she glanced back towards him as she cut into the piece of savory pork before her, eating it delicately as she watched her host preen.
She sipped at her wine, a rich, sweet red, as she listened to the man prattle, noting that he reminded her vaguely of a cockatoo.
"Ah yes, a gift from my late father," Bardell, or Rufus rather, straightened slightly in his spot at the head of the table, his well-trimmed mustache glistening with pork fat. "It has served me well in my dealings. Ships so fine are not easy to come by, you know."
"I imagine not," Celeste replied, fluttering her eyelashes as dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, easily slipping one of the extra knives from the table into its folds as she tried to ignore the bile that raced up her throat at the sight of the bits of grease dripping from Rufus's lip. "Though I do wonder how a man of your . . . standing ended up working with a cutthroat like Lukas."
"The young Pennington boy?" Rufus shook his head. "Strong-willed that one, but too ambitious for the trade perhaps," he swirled his wine, "Dermot thought as much as well. He didn't want to make the contract, insisted the lives of a few fisherman and a fae woman weren't worth the hassle."
Celeste sliced a carrot in half. "And you found them to be so?"
"You have to help those who are less fortunate and just breaking into the business," Rufus said, waving a hand with a simpering smile, "It is not easy work, my dear, and the merchandise can be rather . . . troublesome at times."
Celeste snapped the fork in her hand.
Rufus let out a small squeak of surprise that had her scrambling. She stared at the handle still grasped in her hand, her mind racing, before she quickly flicked it beneath the table and swept up her salad fork to continue her dinner, cursing herself. "I-I do apologize, such lewd talk makes me . . . uncomfortable."
"Oh of course, my lady! Where are my manners," Rufus nodded once, understanding flitting across his features, "Such talk is not befitting the dinner table. You must understand you will find only the finest comforts here, I am gentleman after all, not some washed up slaving trash. I only transport the merchandise, I have no hand in its acquisition, you must understand." He beamed at her.
"Of course, how comforting," Celeste quipped with a smile and lifted her crystal glass, being mindful not to snap the stem as she scrambled to find a compliment to smooth things over and convince herself not to smash the goblet and gouge out his eyes. "Though with the . . . splendor of your facial hair it's not surprising you have equally . . . elaborate taste in . . ." She glanced around her, eyes landing on her spoon. "Silverware."
She quickly swigged from her wine, thanking the Cauldron that this simpleton of a captain seemed more than happy to soak up any poor attempt she made at seduction. She'd been at this nonsensical jabbering and wooing for the better part of an hour and her compliments grew more heinous with each one she gave.
She could practically hear her sister's cackling and retching had she borne witness to the lousy excuse for flirting that Celeste was subjecting the man too. He appeared none the wiser though and his smile only widened at her comment.
"You noticed my collection of Goldwell Silverware!" Rufus exclaimed brightly, his face lighting up with surprise as a dribble of gravy slid off his fork onto his jacket. "It's not often one finds someone with an equal taste for fine cutlery."
Clearing his throat, he easily slipped into another round of droning about his collections of forks and spoons.
Swallowing a sigh of relief, Celeste took advantage of his distraction and began to scan the room, looking for any traces of Naita's whip, searching for the dark leather coloring the female had described to her. Her eyes snagged on an item laid across Rufus's desk, still neatly wrapped about itself, its carved handle as beautiful at Naita had described.
Celeste slipped the location to the back of her mind as she popped another piece of meat into her mouth, savoring the food that'd she pleasantly discovered to be delicious. No harm in eating while she bided her time, watching the final glow of twilight fade into true darkness.
Finishing his tirade, Rufus blotted at his glistening brow with his napkin. "I must say I do have impeccable taste indeed, madame," he sloppily sucked another piece of pork into his mouth before finally wiping it with a delicate hand. "Especially when it comes to the fairer sex."
Celeste blinked a few times at the rather abrupt change of topic, forcing a soft smile to her lips as she leaned forward, trying all the world not to look as awkward and off kilter as she felt. "Oh?"
He swiped the napkin across his brow again, this time smearing the remnants of dinner across his forehead as few small grunts slipped free from his mouth. Celeste suddenly found herself extremely thankful that his lower half was hidden beneath the table.
"Do you . . . wish to show me this preference for the fairer sex?" Celeste felt like an idiot the second the words came out of her mouth, especially as she rested her arms against the table and pushed her bust up and forward. Rufus got the idea however.
"Oh, oh yes, I would." A clearing of the throat. "Just . . . give me a moment to freshen up." His eyes glazed as they fixed on her corseted bodice, devouring it. Celeste gave a forced smile as she remained in her spot.
"But my lady, I fear I have not learned your name!" Rufus suddenly spoke, as though the realization had just dawned on him.
Celeste blinked in surprise, not having expected him to ask, she began glancing around, trying to conjure a lie to her lips-
"Lily," She hoped the lie seemed smooth as she ran a gentle hand over her wrist, trying not to stare too blatantly at the carvings across the room's interior. "My name is Lily."
"A fine faerie name," Rufus said, nodding his head in confirmation before he rose. "Allow me to freshen up my lady, I will return shortly." He snapped his fingers, summoning a maid from the side room. "Please help Lady Lily from her gown and then leave us be."
Celeste let a low slow breath out of her nose as she watched Rufus reenter the cabin, his throat bobbing in anticipation with each step he took towards the fine bed she laid on, his excitement clearly visible through his thin trousers.
Repulsive, the man was absolutely repulsive.
How many other slaved women had he subjected to his will? How had they faired once he'd grown bored of them? She wasn't certain she wanted to know.
She didn't let those thoughts filter onto her face though as she curled onto her side and let a loose hand rest on her hip, as she schooled her features into a look of interest and of seduction.
She was supposed to be entranced by him, thrilled to bed him-
She almost gagged at the prospect.
She was doing this to save innocent lives, for Naita who waited patiently below deck for her. She would survive this, would make this man pay for having the audacity to sell people like cattle.
The maid had unpinned the curls from her head, allowing them to fall down her back in a silken black curtain. She knew exactly how enticing she looked, laid upon the bed as she was, and knew it would take little to bend the male to her wishes.
She rose up on her knees and flashed a dazzling smile at him, allowing him full view of the lacey undergarments the first maid had clad her in.
His excitement only became more pronounced.
"M-my lady," Rufus stammered, now dropping any pretense of looking anywhere but her body, "I-I must—"
"There's no need for words," she cooed to him, leaning back against the bed and motioning with one finger for him to join her, climb atop her.
He was only too eager to oblige.
Laying back against the pillows, Celeste averted her gaze as the man unbuttoned his pants, apparently too eager or unwilling to remove his clothing before his crawled atop her, the smell of a rank cologne assaulting her nose.
Celeste easily lowered his head towards hers, his hands resting on either side of her head. Running her fingers across his jaw, she rested one palm behind his ear and the other on the other side of his neck.
"Y-you're absolutely beautiful," Rufus cooed, his manhood digging into the soft fabric at her waist.
"I know."
Celeste smiled brilliantly at the captain, her eyes flashing in the candle light of the room, before she cocked her head and, with a deft twist of her hands, snapped his neck.