Author's Note: Trigger warning for dark content and slave trafficking. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
She was going to tear Dermot apart slowly, peeling his skin off piece by piece so he could get a taste of the agony she'd been in for over an hour now. The burning was just beginning to taper off as she dumped another bucket of cold water over her face, scrubbing vigorously at her burning cheeks, willing the remaining dust to leave.
He was a dead man, ten times over.
"Don't scrub!" Anelisse reprimanded, yanking Celeste's hands away. Her sister's face was finally coming into focus after bucket upon bucket of fresh water, slowly rinsing the miniscule particles from her eyes. "I've told you, you're only going to rub the last of it in more."
Celeste grumbled, dropping her hands into her lap as Anelisse brought another cooling rag to her cheek, gently pressing it on the hot skin.
It felt as though she'd never be rid of it all.
The only two substances on the planet her kind was susceptible to, and Dermot had made an art out of using them as weapons. Fallon and her crew had found proof of this in the innumerable containers of faebane and ash arrows stored in the hold of the main ship as Celeste recovered; hundreds of chests filled to the brim with the deadly arms.
Even the demi-fae had cursed when she'd accidentally touched the faebane, jumping back and growling her displeasure as she'd kicked the chest closed. She'd ordered it burned and sent to the bottom of the ocean along with the rest of the ship. "Out of sight and off the playing field," as the extravagant captain had proclaimed.
Between buckets of water and cool rags, Celeste had intercepted the order, requesting a wide-eyed Eoin to take a few containers to her own chamber as Koda finished scorching and disposing of the rest. She saw no use in throwing out a potential weapon, especially with the presence of Dermot's fae companion Dune, who'd walloped Gandriel soundly. Anger had filled her when her vision had cleared enough for her to see her first mate's face, bloodied and bruised, and the rapidly healing slash across his arm that stained his white sleeve red.
He'd seemed none the wiser to it as he paced back and forth in her cabin, nervously muttering under his breath about "how does he know?"
Celeste had inquired after Gandriel's murmurings, only to have him promptly proclaim it was absolutely nothing and that Dune hadn't given up a single ounce of information but that they needed to find him immediately and without delay.
He'd averted his eyes as she quirked a puffy and disbelieving brow at his suspicious behavior and had, instead, suddenly found the books on her shelf in desperate need of alphabetizing. The male was now thoroughly invested in his venture, dutifully and single mindedly sorting the volumes, the most effort Celeste ever seen Gandriel exert in any activity.
She hadn't bothered questioning further.
"There." Cool relief washed through her, followed by the welcome tingle of healing as Anelisse pulled the rag away, the white fabric tinged with blue. "I think we've finally gotten it."
Running a tentative hand over her raw skin, Celeste flinched at the damaged tissue but was relieved to find it no longer felt like hellfire.
"Thank you."
"Here." Celeste closed her eyes as her sister smoothed a thick cream across her face, the scent of herbs filling the air as the mixture instantly numbed and soothed the skin. She grunted as the salve soaked in.
"What is this?"
"A little concoction I thought I'd try my hand at making." More of the cooling cream was applied to her nose, easing the incessant itching. "It seems to be working."
"Whatever it is, it's doing wonders."
Anelisse hummed her approval, gently patting Celeste's cheeks as she worked.
"I know that smell," Gandriel said, looking up from where he knelt before the bookshelf, sniffing the air tentatively. "That's an old fae recipe. Where'd you learn how to make that?"
The blonde shrugged as she continued her ministrations.
"It was something my father picked up during his years traveling before he married my mother." She made one last swipe across Celeste's forehead before pulling away and gently capping the container. "He used to use it for any injuries or sprains he acquired, and he made it often when I was small. Once he . . . died, we didn't have the money for the herbs anymore. We used the last of what we had on Celeste the night we found her."
Celeste quieted at the information, watching as Anelisse strode across the room with a small smile and placed the tin gently in a drawer. She'd always known that her appearance had taken a toll on the newly widowed mother and her daughter, her arrival forcing them to dip into their already dwindling savings and supplies . . . and this, just another thing to add to the list of things she owed her sister.
As though sensing her train of thought, Anelisse turned back with a knowing look on her face.
"Don't give me that sad, guilt-ridden look. We were happy to do what was needed to save you."
Celeste shook her head, knowing better than to argue, eternally grateful for the blonde she called family. She sent a glance over to a still sorting Gandriel who watched them out of the corner of his eye with something like longing. Upon noticing her attention, he turned back to the shelf, books piled in his lap.
Well, perhaps now it was blondes.
Grateful for the copious amounts of water that had returned her vision, she rose and strode to the male who was now straightening the titles starting with the letter "F" before firmly, but gently, kicking him in the hip. He looked up at her with wide eyes, his resemblance to an overgrown child never ceasing to amaze her.
Overgrown child he might be, she thought to herself, but he did come for me.
Even if the bastard was hiding something. He'd tell her in due time.
"Well, get up, we can play librarian later." She looked down at him, admiring the kindness and warmth in those tawny eyes that had sought her out the moment she'd been hurt, with no regard for his own injuries. "We've got slaves to free and find places for."
The bright smile he gave her nearly had one of her own blooming.
"Has anyone actually opened the hold?"
Celeste wasn't fond of the idea of taking any more chances, especially after Dermot's little stunt.
Gandriel stood behind her, his nervous energy having settled somewhat on their short but brisk walk over to the ship Fallon and her crew had taken.
"Not yet." The demi-fae kicked the shattered lock to the floor and turned the lever on the swollen wooden door, the rusty mechanism squealing as it turned, making Celeste's skin crawl. "But I doubt we'll find anything but people down here. We've already uncovered their weapon stash."
"Wishful thinking," Celeste heard Vaerek mutter under his breath, the first-mate holding a faelight to illuminate the dark doorway as he tightened his grip on the dagger at his belt, Avi flanking him. The humidity in the hold of the dank, uncared-for ship was nearly unbearable, murky and cold, like the very ocean would soon seep in and take the vessel for itself. It was a miracle it was still floating.
"Don't be sour."
With a hip, Fallon shoved the door open, the hot, musky smell of unwashed bodies and refuse hitting them like a wall. Celeste had nearly vomited the first time she'd freed a batch of slaves that had been on the sea for months, the stench and sight of their wasting bodies overwhelming.
This shipment seemed no better, clearly having been on the water for several weeks at least, the few pieces of hay beneath their feet nearly rotted into nothingness.
"Hello?" Fallon called in her high-pitched chime, her jaunty feather bouncing as she stepped into the dark hold. "Is anyone there?" No reply answered her, save for a faint shuffle and the clinking of chains, followed by a child's stifled whimper and sob.
Pulling her own faelight from her pocket, Celeste stepped next to the other captain before allowing the stone to flare to life, illuminating the room before her. The breath instantly escaped her lungs and silence filled her mind as she took in the tiny, dirty faces peering from the shadows before her.
Children.
Perhaps a hundred of them, fae and human alike all huddled close together, their haunted eyes wide with fear as they tried and failed to press further into the corners of the hold.
Anelisse gasped in horror, shoving to the front beside her.
Fury as cold as winter stole through Celeste as she took in each filthy face, the stench of their fear and sorrow. She couldn't contain the growl that slipped past her lips. So that was the reason for the lack of guards - for what was there to guard when your captives were half your size and entirely helpless?
Death wouldn't be punishment enough for the snake.
There would be no mercy.
No excuse for this, no redemption-horrible, this was beyond horrible.
She felt Fallon still on her other side and glanced over at her, the captain's normally sparkling eyes hidden beneath the brim of her hat. She paused for only a moment before turning and abruptly striding out, the sound of her heeled boots clicking against the floor as she made her way back into the hall. Vaerek immediately followed after, quietly calling his daughter's name.
Celeste shared a concerned glance with her sister who looked somewhere between tears and fury. Shifting her gaze to the doorway, she caught sight of the rage marring Gandriel's face, the emotion contorting his features into something she'd never seen before, his eyes flashing in the darkness. Disbelief filled her as she watched his fingers slowly taper into claws, the sound of his breathing uneven.
Not a shapeshifter, her ass.
"Have you gone feral?" she hissed at him, nodding at the deep grooves he had gouged into the damp wood of the doorway. Snapping his head toward her he glanced down at his fingers and immediately blanched, tucking his hands awkwardly behind his back and attempting to quiet his breathing, his face still twisted with fury.
She could have sworn he was shaking his hands behind him, as though he were trying to dispel the appendages away.
At this rate he'd only scare the children further. Had the situation not been so dire Celeste might have laughed at the panic on his features.
She opened her mouth to tell him as much when Avi stepped between them, face unreadable.
"Here, little pearl, hold this." Avi handed off the faelight that Vaerek had given him to Anelisse and patted the wide-eyed Gandriel on the shoulder before easing past.
With steps as soft as a lamb's, the selkie lord walked toward the closest and what appeared to be the youngest child, a little fae girl with wide brown eyes and matted chestnut curls, likely no older than three. At his approach she flinched, cowering away as far as her shackles would allow. Avi knelt down to her level and sat beside her, his liquid eyes softening.
"Hello there."
The little girl tucked her head between her knees, attempting to make herself small as possible. The male's face remained calm as he watched her, broad shoulders relaxed.
"You don't need to hide from me, I'm here to help you." His voice was as soft as silk, low and patient as he waited on her to respond. Sensing he wasn't coming any closer she peered one dark eye up at him, tear streaks cutting a path through her dirty face. Avi smiled softly and nodded at her chains.
"I bet those hurt a lot, would you like me to take them off?"
She looked at him suspiciously before nodding her head vigorously. Swiftly and silently he pulled the bolt from the floor, letting the chain drop to the wood with a thud. Seeing she could move, the child immediately pressed further into her corner, the chains rattling around her small ankles.
Avi remained patient in his spot, watching her softly as she kept a wary eye on him.
"You know, it's very dark in here," he nodded at the shadows around them, his sleek ponytail sliding across his shoulders, "and I bet you don't like it very much, do you?" The child shook her head, and he smiled sadly. "Would you like to know a secret?" A tentative nod; Avi leant forward ever so slightly and whispered, "I'm scared of it too."
"You are?" A quiet, hoarse voice sounded from one of the other children nearest, a small human boy no older than eight, with black hair and upturned eyes. Two smaller girls who resembled him remained tucked safely behind him.
"I am," Avi replied quietly, without turning his attention from the first little female. Celeste saw some of the other children perk up, shuffling forward to watch the seal lord. "It's very scary. No one should have to stay in it, don't you think?" He'd directed the question to the smallest girl who sat up a little and nodded. "Me too." Slowly, he offered out a hand to her, palm up. "Would you like to leave the dark? I promise I won't hurt you." He turned his attention towards the other children. "Any of you."
The girl seemed to consider for a moment, her bright eyes flickering, before deciding that he meant no harm. She shuffled forward to lay her dirty palm softly in his hand and allowed Avi to close his fingers around her own before gently pulling her up into his arms, gently breaking the shackles from her wrists.
The chains hit the ground with a clatter.
She immediately latched herself around his neck, burying her dark head into his shoulder. He shushed her softly and wrapped his arms around her before standing. "Let's go see the sun. What do you think?"
The child nodded her little head, silent tears dripping down her dirty face. "All right."
Avi nodded toward Celeste and the others. "My friends are here to help too - they'll let you all free but you must listen to them."
The children watched them with wide-eyed stares, the stench of fear beginning to mingle with uncertainty. Celeste forced a soft smile to her face as she ignored the rage beneath and strode forward to the little boy with the uptilted eyes and offered out a hand. He immediately held out his shackled wrists for her to break him free.
As she snapped the metal, another little boy, this one fae, narrowed his eyes at her.
"You smell angry. How do we know we can trust you?"
Right, Celeste thought as she struggled to push down her emotions, fae children were significantly harder to hide things from.
"She's angry because of what the bad people did to you. She will not hurt you. None of us will." Avi softly answered from where he stood with the smallest, rocking her back and forth in his arms, smoothing her hair from her face as she sobbed into his shoulder.
The boy frowned, his pale, freckled cheeks puffing even as he took the answer as acceptable. Celeste tried to smile gently at him even as her emotions demanded she destroy the bastards who'd done this. The other children began to murmur quietly, a barely discernible whisper as they spoke amongst themselves.
"You're very observant," Anelisse chirped as she knelt beside Celeste in front of the freckle-faced boy. "Please don't mind my sister, I know she seems grumpy but she's actually very kind."
The boy looked Celeste over suspiciously before nodding his agreement with her sister, his eyes softening at the kind blonde before him. Celeste couldn't even bring herself to argue, beginning to undo the shackles of what she assumed were the human boy's sisters, as Gandriel knelt near the wall on her right to free one of the few adults, a silent, sharp-featured human woman who cowered her face behind a dull curtain of dark hair.
If she was doing a bad job of hiding her emotions then Gandriel was failing miserably. At least there were humans who wouldn't be able to sense his anger, not that his face was doing a very good job of hiding it.
She only hoped none of them had noticed him sprout claws moments before.
Dropping the chain from the little boy's wrist, she nodded to the doorway. "There are nice people on deck who will feed you and find you water." He stared at the stairs as though they were a monster that would eat him, the same way Celeste knew she'd stared at the door of their cottage waiting for him to come take her. She offered another smile, this one genuine. "It's all right, go on up. I promise it's safe."
Taking the hands of the two girls, no doubt his sisters, he walked around Celeste and towards the stairs, delivering them from the clutches of darkness and to freedom.
Two hundred and eighteen slaves between the ships, two hundred and eleven of which had been children, a variety of fae, human, and demi fae. Lucien set the report on the desk before him, staring down at the scrawling violet script as a fire built in his chest.
There had always been a variety of ages, young to old, and seeing children was not uncommon, but an entire shipment . . . They were getting desperate, and with the success of Fallon and her companions . . .
It was only going to get worse from here.
Part of Lucien was relieved to know that the capture of the ship had been easy, even if the now known ringleader Dermot had escaped, winnowed away by some high fae associate. Not surprising, given that the first alliance between humans and the fae had been the slave trade.
The man was proving increasingly difficult to track, even by fae standards.
He would have been lying if he said he hadn't considered calling in the Shadowsinger - there was very little that got past him - but the thought of Azriel nearby with the approaching wedding made him nauseous.
A flare of possessiveness raced through Lucien that he stifled on instinct, willing its cooperation and silence.
No, as useful as Feyre and Rhysand's spymaster would be, Lucien didn't think he could see him anytime soon, not with the thought of his mate swearing herself to him forever. He certainly wasn't going to attend the wedding, for everyone's sake, the beautiful pressed invitation still sitting discarded on his desk at Rose Hall, wax seal unbroken.
Which was partially why Lucien sat before a certain captain's desk now, awaiting her return from where she'd gone to see off the captain of the Loreley as she and some of her crew headed back to Marchedor. Leaving, to his knowledge, to start tracking information on the missing ringleader and to help to find homes for the two hundred children now staying on the slave ship that they'd towed back.
They'd need to find them shelter soon, and hopefully permanent living situations.
But to place two hundred children . . . They'd have to do some bargaining and hunting but they'd figure it out, eventually.
Lucien shook his head. It could wait until the morning, and with his current state of mind . . . the distraction that Fallon promised was something he was looking forward to for once. He'd even donned her favored jade doublet in hopes of pleasing the female and luring her into her favored pastime.
She'd certainly never complained in the past.
It was the sound of her clicking heels that had him straightening in his chair, relief flooding him against the chafing mating bond as she came closer, nearly smothering its presence.
The door swung open and the smell of violets and plums engulfed him, an enticing scent he'd secretly come to enjoy when she wasn't . . . encouraging his hand, or other parts, to do her bidding. He'd turned to greet her when he was met with a surprisingly clipped tone.
"What are you doing here?"
He stopped as he took in her appearance, her normally immaculate waves tucked away in a braid and her infamous purple hat nowhere in sight. She wasn't even wearing a corset, instead dressed in a loose white shirt, her eyes missing their signature kohl lining.
"I thought it prudent to see you after returning—" there were dark circles under her eyes, the smell of sweat still clinging to her as though she hadn't bathed, her perfume stale "—are you all right?"
"Yes, get out." She strode around him and stepped behind her desk, plopping down the armload of papers she'd brought in, the top one labeled with names and addresses—likely homes to place the freed children in, or perhaps possible leads to find some of their parents. She glanced him over and sighed at the jade doublet before pointing at the door. "Not in the mood for that tonight. Another time."
Of course, on the night when he desperately needed her distraction Fallon was indisposed and clearly up in arms. Dumbfounded, Lucien sat back down, watching her with puzzlement - not in his entire time of knowing the demi-fae had he ever seen her in such a state.
Perhaps she was dealing with her cycle. She had hit him with a chamber pot once when he had spoken to her during it and since then he'd never stuck around long enough when he sensed its arrival to know what else she might do. Surreptitiously he tried to scent her as she sat down without looking at him, beginning to shuffle through the pages and her notes.
No, it wasn't that.
Unsure how to proceed, he watched her work for a time, her brow wrinkling as she began flipping through pages, her elbows braced on her desk. Perhaps he should talk to Avi, to see if the seal lord had any idea what had happened to the captain, since she likely wouldn't be forthcoming-
"Didn't I tell you to get out?" She peered up at him with tired eyes. "If you're going to sit there like a flower arrangement then at least be helpful. Have you contacted Tamlin about potentially placing some of the children in Spring? Surely he could find a place for a handful of children somewhere in that garden of his."
Lucien felt heat flare up to his face - he hadn't contacted Tamlin, thinking to do so in the days following his little distraction with Fallon. He shook his head. "I have not."
"Then perhaps you should do that."
Harsh, and not in her usual playful way. Exhaustion marred her features, she clearly hadn't slept in days, and they'd only returned to Portmouth that morning. Concern filled Lucien as he braced himself and watched the female.
She shot a dark look up at him.
"What, Lucien?"
"Fallon." To his slight surprise, genuine worry filled him as he looked her over. "What happened?"
"What do you mean, 'what happened?'" She gestured at the papers before her. "They took two hundred innocent children. We need to find their families, and if they have none, safe places for them to go."
He'd never seen her work diligently at anything, always taking her time and easing through things, a smirk ever-present on those plump lips. They'd found places for thousands of slaves before. What was different about this?
"There's no sense in rushing through it, we will get it resolved eventually." Surely there were some orphanages the Courts could donate to that would happily take the children in. Perhaps not the best childhood, but one that was at the very least secure.
Lucien realized immediately he'd spoken the wrong words as Fallon's scent shifted from annoyance and exhaustion to malice and contempt. Her lovely hazel eyes sharpened to daggers.
"Go home Lucien."
"Fallon—"
"Go home."
"They're just children, Fallon, they will be fine, they're safe now." They'd done their part in rescuing them - there was an entire coalition specifically created for the purpose of helping the slaves reintegrate and find new, safe homes, and she was clearly in need of sleep.
Something in him twisted as he felt the mating bond beginning to tighten in his chest, the pull toward Elain that he had desperately been seeking relief from rising to the surface. Surprise filled him - not once had it ever flared in the presence of the female before him, whatever mysterious power she wielded somehow always silencing it.
He forced his focus back to the present.
"Are you even listening to yourself? They're not 'just children,' Lucien," she snarled, eyes bright, "Do you have any idea what that's even like? To be towed about like cargo and sold to the highest bidder?" The captain's eyes narrowed as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. "The taste of fear when they take you, not understanding why your mother let them pull you from your bed? To be afraid the first time you taste sunlight again and worry that it may be the last?"
Oh.
Understanding and shame bloomed in Lucien's mind at her words, the mystery of her appearance and her unspoken past suddenly clicking into place in his mind. How had he missed it?
"Of course not. You're the son of a lord."
He gaped at her. ". . . Why didn't you ever tell me?"
For that matter, why hadn't Avi ever told him? Lucien didn't consider himself close friends with the seal lord, but they'd worked together through the duration of trying to shut down the slave trade, even exchanging stories of their lives.
Though he'd never mentioned having a daughter, not until Lucien had met Fallon at the ball that night when their little dance had started. And while she'd been clearly adopted—he'd never expected she'd once been in the same position as those children on the ships.
"You never asked." Something sharp pierced through Lucien's chest at that, even as she rolled her eyes and went back to glancing through her papers. "You've never bothered asking anything about my life, so why would I tell you?" She snorted. "We're not exactly in a relationship where we sit around and braid each other's hair while we share our childhood trauma."
Ouch.
And while she wasn't wrong, did she have to put it so bluntly? Then again, how many times had she referred to him as a toy?
His gut twisted.
"I'm sorry."
With a sudden jolt of shame, he realized how little he actually knew about Fallon.
"Why?" She licked her thumb and pulled out a page, setting it to the side. "What's done is done, no sense in crying over it. Besides, I had a wonderful childhood." She gestured at the pages. "Fortunately, we have a chance to help these children."
"You're right." Lucien rose stiffly, his mind sifting through the information Fallon had revealed to him. "I should go draft my letter." She hummed her agreement without looking up from her papers. He briefly wondered if she'd eaten and if he should seek out food for her, or maybe suggest that she sleep.
If she'd even take the food or advice he offered, given how starkly she'd pointed out the nature of their . . . relationship.
He wasn't certain why her words had stung.
"Let's get these children placed, then we can talk about getting back to business." Fallon's eyes softened slightly, a hint of their usual spark returning as she nodded at his jade doublet. "For now, we have work to do."
Lucien nodded his agreement, feeling strangely hollow after having arrived with an appetite for her in a rare moment of desire. Quickly he stole out the door and made his way back on deck, stepping lightly around Vaerek's room.
He nearly summoned a ball of flame when a voice materialized out of the darkness, a tall figure leaning against the railing of the ship and looking at him with amusement.
"Well, that certainly didn't go in your favor." Avi's bright smile cut through the darkness.
"Why are you just standing out here eavesdropping?" Another protective father, but this one more reasonable than the mortal one . . . mostly. Lucien groaned internally. Why had he even put himself in this position?
"Because she took this hard-" the seal lord rolled his neck, arms crossed over his chest, "-and needed someone to talk to, though you thoroughly missed that."
"What do you mean?" Lucien narrowed his eyes as the selkie pushed off the rail. "She didn't seem much in the mood to talk about anything."
Avi let out a low laugh. "Oblivious children."
Lucien straightened his spine, vexation filling him at the comment. He instead settled for asking a question of his own: "Why not tell me?"
"It's not my story to tell-" Avi nodded toward the cabin where his daughter was still working, the sound of her scribbling clear to their fae hearing "-though since you now know maybe I'll tell you eventually. For now you should probably get back to your room and write to the Lord of Spring. That is, if you want any chance of speaking to her tomorrow."
Part of Lucien wanted to inform the lord that his relationship with his daughter was not even remotely serious and therefore her being on speaking terms with him was not a concern. Yet somehow, he found himself agreeing before winnowing back to his room and pulling out parchment to pen a request to his old friend.