Celeste was instantly on her feet, empty bottle forgotten in the sand.
"Where?" She would sail through this storm if it meant getting to that shipment in time. Even if the question of just how Ithaca had found them in the midst of such a tempest bloomed in her mind.
She heard Avi shift slowly behind her, no doubt trying to get up without waking the sleeping Vaerek.
Ithaca's full lips broke into a venomous smirk.
"Not yet." She tapped her slim fingers impatiently on the dark fabric of her sleeve. "First, my payment."
There was a soft rustle of shifting sand as Avi rose behind Celeste, no doubt staring curiously at the strange woman before them. She honestly wasn't sure how to go about introducing the Lord to her . . . housemate. Or how to even begin the dialogue regarding their little bargain.
Her contemplation was interrupted when a low growl sounded from Avi.
"What is a formoire doing here?" the male inquired, casually stepping beside Celeste, even as his hand came to rest on the single ornate blade at his hip, "Last I recall, your kind had been driven back down to the pits that you crawled up from."
Celeste gave Avi a questioning look. Formoire? She'd never heard such a term.
From the way Ithaca's features twisted though, Celeste knew she had.
The woman turned her dark gaze to the selkie lord, her features going unnervingly still as she evaluated him.
"I haven't heard that description in an age." She tilted her head slightly, the movement so entirely predatory that it had a shiver racing up Celeste's spine. "I thought all who knew it had died."
"Our people keep the old ways," Avi offered pleasantly even as he inched forward, angling himself as though he'd leap between her and Ithaca at any moment. "We think it best to remember the ancient evils that still walk the land."
"Oh yes, selkies," Ithaca muttered, soundly utterly unimpressed. "I was under the impression the humans had skinned your entire kind at this point. Pelts to turn them into little seals," she smiled knowingly, a nasty, nightmarish thing. "Or at least that's how the legends go. Though I don't know why they'd want your hides when you stink so rancidly of fish."
Clarity and horror formed in Celeste's mind.
Avi remained unperturbed.
"And your kind that walks the land looking for souls to prey upon." Unease laced through Celeste at the words. "Fascinating, then, that you've suddenly taken an interest in helping the poor and downtrodden. Or are you just looking for your next meal?"
Ithaca let out a soft laugh, the tone something akin to a lover's chuckle even as it barely concealed the malice beneath it. "I don't need fishing boats full of unwashed filth to satiate my appetite." She tossed her dark locks over her shoulder. "However, this little cow," a nod towards Celeste, "made a deal with me, and I'm here to collect my payment."
Celeste saw Avi's back stiffen as he sent her a questioning look that seemed to ask if she'd completely lost her mind. She rolled her shoulders casually in response.
"I think, Ithaca, I'll have my ships first," she locked eyes with that depthless gaze, keeping her features schooled into an expression of boredom, "then you'll have your payment."
"You would be wise, girl, to not test my patience any further."
Celeste casually twirled a strand of her dark hair, Ithaca's asking price, around her finger. "Last I recall, you were ordered to not make threats against myself or my crew. Would you like to experience what happens again when you do?"
The woman snarled.
"I've had enough of your childish games—"
Celeste pulled on the amulet's bond, instantly making the woman's snarling cease. "Try me."
Nima and Avi's eyes widened in surprise as the woman fell silent, something like pain crossing her features as she tried and failed to hiss.
Seeing that her efforts were in vain, Ithaca's expression curdled like soured milk. She let out an indignant huff before turning on her heel, marching back into the bushes.
"Very well, come with me."
Avi stopped Celeste with a gentle hand, shock marring his features as he muttered, "How the hell did you just do that?"
Celeste merely shrugged, unsure if she should explain the origins of the mysterious pendant that had bound the woman to her.
"Little star . . ." the selkie sent an assessing look over a shoulder, ensuring that his lover was still sleeping soundly, safe by the embers, "formoire are basically myth, none who are alive have ever seen their kind, and the fact that one walks among us . . . you're treading very dangerous territory."
She quirked a brow. "Have you seen what we do for a living?"
Since chasing down slavers was a pleasant evening stroll in the park, honestly, what was wrangling one dark being on top of it?
He gave her a sharp look that said what they did was nothing compared to what awaited them in the bushes. Hand still lingering on his knife. Avi continued, "A word to wise: I wouldn't make deals with the likes of her. Though I fear you've already broken that sacred rule."
"Bargains are my specialty," Celeste replied, patting the hand on her arm reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry about it. Now we'd best get going before she gets any pissier and pitches a fit."
"You say that like you're speaking of an old, cranky woman, not a monster born in the flesh."
That was genuine concern on Avi's features, his brows knotting in worry.
"It's just Ithaca," she gestured towards the foliage where the woman had disappeared, "she I just a cranky, old woman." That was, when you ignored her immense power and ability to pop into existence wherever she chose.
"I can still hear you two." Ithaca groused from the darkness, her voice dripping in discontent.
Celeste playfully elbowed Avi in the ribs.
"See? Told you. Cranky old woman."
Avi looked skywards. "By the Mother, I didn't think a female more reckless than my own daughter existed, but perhaps I'm wrong."
Celeste merely stepped out of Avi's grip and followed after Ithaca into the bushes, motioning for the selkie lord and Nima to follow.
Nesta had returned to the House of Wind after the party, politely declining her sister's open invitation to remain at the Riverside Estate for the evening. Cassian had chosen to join her, bidding their family farewell before whisking them off into the cold, dark night.
She'd barely spoken on the flight back, a weariness and uneasiness settling in her spine that drove her home, the hum of her power making her restless.
The Solstice celebration had been lovely, as it always was, but she'd found herself drifting during it, unable to anchor herself in the moment. Her mind and powers lingered elsewhere, as though something or someone called to her; a silent yet persistent keening that danced across her flesh like a caress and delved deep into her bones.
It had been happening for some time now, starting as a whisper, a faint sensation she was able to shake free.
Yet as the months had passed . . . its presence had grown.
Solstice had amplified it to a presence she now knew she wasn't imagining.
Much to her chagrin, but not her surprise, Cassian had noted the minute difference that evening, inching closer throughout the night and watching her with a hawk's intent.
She'd nearly thrown a shoe at him for his overbearing nature.
Fortunately, it seemed her sisters hadn't been aware of her off kilter state, too enamored with Feyre's birthday and the fast approach of Elain's wedding to notice the few tells she cleverly hid. A small mercy.
For whatever stirred in the air . . . she needed to find Valka, quickly.
Months had passed and there had still been no signs of the sharp-featured female. No living creature had seen her or even heard a whisper of her presence - it was as though she'd simply vanished into thin air.
And Valka, for all of her harsh words and bravado . . . she was loyal beyond measure. Never would she have abandoned her post without a word, would have abandoned her friend without at least a warning.
It left her uneasy.
She suspected Valka's mother, the Ironwood widow, might have had something to do with it. For all her talk of loyalty she always seemed to slip around the edges, somehow always at the center of things but never involved.
There had never been an ounce of proof against her, but her presence, her being, it had never felt right to Nesta. And Valka's manners towards her, her mindfulness when speaking . . .
She would have assumed the female dead had it not been for the nagging feeling in her gut, the unnatural sense that told her that wasn't the case. That she was out there somewhere in the wilds, amongst the beasts and ancient monsters that seemed to be rematerializing daily.
And her sister and mate, so foolishly allowing her nephew to remain in the wilds when the very air crackled with the wrongness humming through the earth itself . . .
She wondered if they too could feel it.
Could feel the way life itself recoiled, as though it were trying to turn in on itself, to hide so thoroughly that one might never find it again.
Throwing herself down in the lone armchair in her and Cassian's shared chambers, Nesta nimbly slipped out of her suede slippers and curled her legs beneath her. Too many questions simmered in her mind, too many unknowns to sort through.
She heard the crackle of sparks as a fire blazed to life in the hearth and a thud as a book dropped to the table beside her. Lifting the leather-bound tome she read the scrawling script across its surface. The newest installment in her favored series, a gift from Amren that she'd left in the foyer with her other presents from the evening.
"I'll never understand how you can read such garbage," her mate chuckled from the doorway, the shadow of his wings wide where he stood in the illuminated doorway, a cup of tea steaming in his hands. "Yet somehow you've got an entire library filled with such filth."
"Your lack of taste has nothing to do with what I choose to read," she snipped, even as there was no bite to her words. She flipped the tome open in her lap, though she didn't bother to read the words on the pages. "Why don't you mind your own damn business and go back to your simple and measly male duties. Go chop some wood."
He gave a deep chortle. "I have some wood I could offer you."
She barely contained the eyeroll, ever at her wit's end with his bullshit. It didn't stop the spark of need from tracing through her core though, the sensation sending her skin tingling. He might have been stupid, but he was certainly a pretty stupid.
"No snippy remarks for that one, sweetheart? You must be more tired than I thought." Nesta watched as the shadow grew as he stepped up behind her, his hair tickling her face as he braced himself on the back of her chair. "What's eating at you?"
"That might sincerely be the dumbest question that's ever left your mouth." As though he wasn't keenly aware of her fruitless hunt to find Valka.
"I'm not talking about Valka," he replied, as though reading her thoughts. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his calloused fingers casually kneading the tight tissue beneath. "I'm talking about the fact that you've been on edge since you woke up this morning. That you look primed for battle where there is no danger for hundreds of miles."
Nothing got past him, at least not when it truly mattered.
"Something is . . . off," she began, unsure how to put into words the feeling that was plaguing her, the distant pull on her powers, "like life itself is quivering. I've never felt anything quite like it." She clenched her fist in her lap, not even the death that ran through her own veins could cause such a withdrawal. "I wasn't certain until today, until I woke up and . . . felt it."
The reverberations that pulsed around her, the shift in the atmosphere.
Cassian went quiet, even as his hands still worked her shoulders, the crackling in the hearth the only sound permeating the silence.
"Do we tell them?" He finally inquired, his deep voice contemplative as he gently unhooked the clips on her gown and began working the muscles beneath. "Is it something we need to bring to everyone's attention?"
She heard the unspoken question, Or is this just your power? Something that you need to face? That we need to face?
He'd always respected that, her need to deal with what the cauldron had gifted her alone. Had always stood by her unwavering, even when she'd nearly flattened the entire Illyrian nation trying to get a grasp on it so many years ago.
And even now, when she was beginning to question if she'd truly learned its depths . . .
"I don't think Feyre or Rhysand can feel it," she continued, running her finger absently down the spine of her book, "but I don't know if it's just me or if there's more to it. I don't think it's prudent to raise the alarm when I'm only working on a feeling." She let out a moan of reprieve as Cassian worked a particularly tight knot in her shoulder. "It makes me wonder though . . ." She trailed off, contemplating. "Is this connected to the leshka? To the increased attacks on the hunting parties?"
For there had been an enormous spike in monster attacks on patrols, so severe in fact that they'd started to reroute some of the more remote trails to be closer to the camps. And the creatures . . . she'd seen more and more of the hideous beasts in the last few months that she had in her entire century of roaming those wilds.
Cassian's hands paused in their ministrations.
He swore quietly under his breath. For it had been the two of them who had been tasked with clearing out the excess werebeasts that had been scouring the Steppes, and who had found den after den of monsters breeding.
"We need to find Valka quickly," she continued, slipping away from him and rising to stride towards the fire, her nerves preventing her from remaining still. "I can't be certain there's a connection, but," she pressed a hand over her chest, the thrum of her power echoing in time with her pulse, "I can feel it here. Something is coming."
She just didn't know when.
A dull thud sounded again, a soft weight falling over onto her dress. Glancing down, she noticed it was a large paper wrapped parcel that had landed on her feet. Curiously, she reached for it, pulling it into her arms, the faint scent of paint wafting from it. Was it one of Feyre's paintings? A gift her sister had forgotten to give them prior to their departure?
"Why did the House summon that?" Something akin to guilt and recognition sparked in Cassian's gaze as he quickly joined her, his hands reaching for the package before she could open it. "I hid it a while ago."
"Hid it? Why?" Nesta looked at her mate questioningly, curious if it was another Solstice gift to be shared between them when the others were not present. Though from the look on his face she was fairly certain that wasn't the case.
"It's a long story." He pulled it gently from her arms, looking down at it with pain she hadn't seen cross his features in many years, a fleeting glimpse of failure that he'd never forgotten. "It's best to just leave it alone."
She held her grip on the bundle, refusing to relent.
"What is this, Cassian?" She looked over the package, noticing the faint stamp of wax in the center, the sigil of Marchedor broken from where it had once been sealed. He must have gotten it during his emissary trip, the same one he'd come back more than a little moody from.
She was starting to think she might have found the reason why.
"A mistake," he ground out, his eyes almost pleading her to let it go. "It's nothing I'm keen on revisiting at the moment."
"Cassian," she began, locking gazes with the male who she would willingly slay a thousand nations for, but also the male she would happily punch in the face if the need arose, "show me."
Sensing her unwillingness to back down, he sighed, releasing his hold and the parchment, his former bright expression fading into weariness.
"Don't tell me I didn't warn you."
With swift hands, she unwrapped the twine around the bundle, peeling away the parchment to reveal a beautiful painting rendered in hues of shadowy violet and plum.
The world around her stilled.
Impossible.
"Where did you find this?" A spark exploded inside of her, disbelief filling her as she gaped at the piece, her mind failing to understand what she was seeing. What, exactly, had he been hiding? For there on the canvas was Celeste, or rather how her niece would have looked if traitorous bastards hadn't killed her.
And the painting style, while similar, certainly wasn't Feyre's.
"Marchedor, in the market square."
Confusion filled her, they'd searched the city from top to bottom, overturning every stone, every blade of grass to ensure they hadn't missed her. Yet if they'd somehow overlooked her-
"It's not her, Nes," Cassian muttered a little too softly, so much in fact Nesta snapped her head up, taking in his pained expression as he slowly lowered himself onto the ottoman by the chair. "Trust me, I checked."
No words came to her, only the onslaught of fury and rage she'd felt when they'd lost her niece, the same emotions she'd honed into a blade that had cut down hundreds in avenging her name. She slammed down on them, demanding their silence, their compliance.
"You're certain?"
"Without a doubt," her mate pressed his head into his hands, tension in his shoulders. "The human woman at the stall painted it, it's just a portrait of her sister."
"I've never seen a human woman look like this." Whose eyes sparkled like starlight, whose face was the mirror of both her own and her sisters'. "You're certain she wasn't lying?" For if she had . . . Nesta had hunted liars before.
"I thought the same thing, but she gave me her sister's location and I went to find her." He blew out a breath. "But she was human, definitely human. Not nearly that beautiful, but the resemblance was there. The woman even said she'd embellished the painting."
Embellished so that she had somehow painted the raw beauty of night? The personification of shadow and starlight that Celeste had so graciously embodied? It didn't make sense for a painting of another woman to resemble her niece so eerily. They may have never seen her grown, but Nesta would have known her anywhere.
"Trust me, I wracked my brain the entire night trying to understand it, to piece it together. I even went back the next day to question the painter again but I was told she'd left for business and wouldn't be returning for a while."
"Did you show Azriel?" If there was anyone who could track her down it would be the Shadowsinger, if there was any chance of her being alive he could find her. If Azriel knew there was even a chance—he wouldn't stop until he was certain.
Neither would she.
"No, not when he's been so focused on the wedding." Her mate looked so hopeless, so distraught as he spoke, "And if he finds out we both know what will happen. The wedding will go on hold again, he wouldn't stop until he searched the ends of the earth."
Like they had done so many years ago, gaining nothing more than a bitter defeat.
"I wanted to give it to Feyre as a Solstice gift but with peace finally settling in, with things finally getting back to normal, I couldn't."
He didn't want to upset that balance. To throw her sister, their family into a hunt for their dead niece that would very likely only end in heartache. Yet the resemblance, the slim possibility—
She ran a gentle finger over the woman's features, the uptilt of her violet eyes and the shape of her brow identical to her own.
She'd never forgotten that tinkling laugh or the mischievous grin. The insufferable way she'd endlessly curled herself in her lap and made her read aloud, story after story. The silver ribbon she kept stitched on the inside of her leathers as a reminder.
"We can't just ignore this."
"I've had men keeping an eye out for any leads." No doubt a handful of Azriel's spies on the continent he'd handed the order off to. "But so far there's been nothing. The painter has only sporadically returned to her shop and the sister," he nodded towards the painting, "is still working in the brothel I found her in." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I really believe it's just coincidence, maybe a last gift from the Mother to see what she may have looked like."
The painting certainly was a good rendition, a more accurate guess than even Nesta could have conjured. Silently, she moved to her mate's side, setting the painting gently into his palms. He looked up at her through dark lashes.
"We keep looking for Valka." She sat down next to him, smoothing a strand of his dark hair behind an ear. "Focus on what we know we can do," she nodded towards the portrait, "and keep an eye out in case the unlikely." the impossible she noted sadly, "happens."
"You brought the ships with you?"
Celeste felt her jaw go slack, catching the looks of bewilderment from Avi and Nima beside her. There, beached on the sand with waves lapping lazily at their hulls were three large ships, each bearing the emblems that Avi's men had reported the slave ships bearing.
Impossible.
How in the world had she managed to get them all here on her own?
Ithaca merely snorted at the look on her face.
"You said I was to locate them," she picked at her nails, "so locate them I have."
"Did you buy out the crews?" She raked a hand through her hair, even as relief filled her and a giggle of hysterical disbelief bubbled up her throat. How in the hell had she managed this? She'd been expecting coordinates, not the entire damn boats. "Hire your own men?" The thought of the slaves aboard hit her, "And the slaves? The children on board—"
"Still there, safe and sound."
Avi and Celeste both snapped their heads towards the woman.
"Surprised?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she glared at Avi who was giving her a harsher look than Celeste had ever seen on the male's face. "Did you think I chose to eat them, little selkie lord?"
"How long have they been aboard?" Celeste could see the wheels turning in Avi's mind as he ignored the jab. "Do you have numbers? Survivors?"
Ithaca rolled her eyes, clearly done with the authoritative tone the selkie was using.
"A few hours since I took control, if you must know," Celeste froze at that, incredulity filling her at the idea that Ithaca had overcome the ships and gotten them there so quickly. "And I do not know and do not care. I was to locate them, not take inventory of the livestock. I've already given you more than what you asked."
Avi snarled.
Celeste quickly interjected.
"That doesn't answer how you got them through that storm," she gestured toward the lightning still illuminating the horizon, "Or how you managed to take out three ships full of guards." She narrowed her eyes trying to discern movement on the ships, looking for the help Ithaca had surely recruited, "Where are your men?"
Ithaca smiled, a horrendous, spidery thing as thunder rumbled in the distance. "I work alone."
Ice tore down Celeste's spine.
"Now, enough of this idle prattle, I've brought you what you requested, now it's your turn to pay up." She held out a long delicate hand, her slender fingers slightly curled as she waited for Celeste to hand over a strand of her hair.
Celeste merely shook her head, the truth of her end of the bargain ready to unravel.
"Not yet."
"What." Ithaca's eyes went wholly black as her lips peeled back in a sneer.
Celeste planted her hands on her hips, victory rising inside of her, "The bargain was you'd get a piece of my hair once you acquired information on all of the ships I'm hunting." Celeste gestured towards the three ships. "These aren't the only ones."
"Bullshit," Ithaca was upon her instantly, her nose nearly touching her own, "we agreed upon three ships—"
"We agreed upon the ships I was looking for," Celeste watched as Ithaca's face warped from confusion, to surprise, then back to burning wrath, "and you wholeheartedly agreed. It's not my fault you failed to ask for specifics."
"I brought the damn boats to you!"
"Well yes, but that wasn't part of the bargain, now was it? You chose to do it of your own free will, meaning I owe you nothing in exchange for it. Though I do appreciate the gesture." Celeste smiled and clapped a hand down on Ithaca's thin shoulder, the woman nearly quivering in fury. "I guess I should welcome you to the team. Now I know how desperate you are to get that strand of hair, so I'd get back to hunting if I were you."
Nima let out a gasp of surprise as darkness began to brew around Ithaca, her power leaching. Something shifted in her gaze, fury fading into icy rage. Avi inched closer, lowering himself into a defensive stance.
"I could kill you, girl," Ithaca took a step forward, then another, her features sharpening, warping nightmarishly, "could murder you and simply pluck the hair from your damned head—"
Celeste yanked brutally on the bond, sending Ithaca gasping and stumbling to her knees.
She'd never been fond of threats, of being backed in a corner by people who bullied their way to get what they wanted. Had never liked being in a position where she couldn't defend herself.
And she would never be in that position again.
"No, actually, you can't." Celeste knelt down next to Ithaca, offering her a vicious grin that she hoped matched the woman's own. "So I would recommend getting up and keeping your end of the bargain."
"Bitch!" Ithaca hissed, "Conniving, lying whore—"
Celeste rose from the sand, brushing it from her pants as she turned away from the struggling woman, her hold on the bound stronger than steel.
"And Ithaca, one more thing."
The woman glared daggers at her, squirming and struggling to rise from the sand, looking as though she'd pounce and tear her throat out. "What is it, you little harpy-"
Celeste looked over her shoulder, something dark enveloping her as her features crinkled in cruel amusement. "You're not the only one who was born from the shadows. There are far worse beings out there than you." Her mind flickered to violet eyes. "You don't scare me. You'd be wise to remember that."
Ithaca stopped her struggling, her features warping further as her voice came out in a guttered growl, a sound so dreadful the life of the island went silent, even the waves freezing in their motions. "You shouldn't speak what you know nothing of. You may have been born a princess of night but it wasn't by your family's hands that shadow was brought into this world."
Celeste kept her features neutral; she wasn't surprised that Ithaca had figured out her origins. She listened as the woman continued.
"I know your kind." Celeste felt Nima shift behind her, no doubt distancing herself from the shadows collecting before them, forming an impenetrable curtain that was quickly overtaking the entire beach, seeming to take on the shape of massive, vicious wings. "I know your legacy. You haven't the slightest clue of the truth that has long since been lost to the wind." The creature before them cast a look at Avi who had gone entirely motionless, before her wholly black eyes snapped back to Celeste. "I will have my revenge, girl, make no mistake."
Watching the shadows writhing before her, Celeste did the only thing that came to mind.
She flipped Ithaca off.
"Get in line."
A deafening wail rose as the shadows built into a crescendo, their icy touch nearly burning as they violently exploded around them, forming ripping winds that nearly knocked Celeste off of her feet before dissolving away into nothing, taking Ithaca with them.
Silence enveloped them before the sound of the island's creatures slowly filtered back in, as the waves began their gentle crashing once more.
"What just happened?" Nima inquired quietly as always, her dark eyes wide as she stared at the empty spot where Ithaca had been kneeling moments before.
"An immortal temper tantrum," Celeste muttered as a wave of dizziness suddenly hit her, probably directly related to the sheer amount of alcohol she'd consumed. Maybe she wasn't nearly as sober as she'd thought she was, "It's always with the dramatics. She's just pissed I beat her."
A wave of nausea hit her, her body suddenly deciding that perhaps that last bottle of liquor had been a bit too much. Without warning she felt bile rise in her throat and immediately raced towards the shore before promptly vomiting.
Fallon's fault, this was entirely Fallon's fault again.
She felt gentle hands grab her hair, carefully pulling it away from her face.
"Little star." Avi's voice was soft.
"Yes, I know I drank too much." She was going to regret the hangover in the morning, and was certainly going to regret the absolute fit that Ithaca was going to throw the next time she saw her. "That's what you were going to say wasn't it?"
"I was going to say that I stand corrected. You are officially the most reckless female I have ever had the pleasure of working with."
"I aim to please."