"You're an absolute bitch, I hope you know," Gandriel hissed from his protective perch next to Celeste on her bed as she watched Ithaca stroll casually into the cabin. He'd been religiously occupying it since Nima had decided to go on her murderous little rampage that had left Celeste's skull feeling as though it were splitting in two. "You're damn lucky I'm not blasting you out the window this instant."
"I'd like to see you try, boy," the woman retorted, unperturbed. She pressed one of her shoulders into the wooden bedpost, flecks of Nima's blood stark against the pale shirt beneath her silken black cloak. "It's not my fault you were too foolish to realize she had ill intentions."
"Gandriel's right, Ithaca," Anelisse snipped from her other side, the most cross Celeste had ever seen her sister. "You should have said something, you could have gotten her killed."
Almost did, Celeste thought a bit wryly.
She felt her sister's hand tighten around her own.
It'd been hours since Nima had attacked Celeste, hours of placating the splicing agony in her skull as she willed her own thoughts back into order. Gandriel and Anelisse had watched her and the door like hawks since it had happened.
"She's not my responsibility," Ithaca mocked, even as something like regret flashed through her dark gaze.
"No, but I am your friend," Anelisse replied tartly, her free hand balling into a white-knuckled fist, "and you should have known better."
Fury snapped across Ithaca's features as she opened her mouth to spew a retort. However, she paused, as though she was considering how damning her words might be, as though she actually cared enough about Anelisse to worry about such a thing. To Celeste's surprise, Ithaca shut her mouth and said nothing more, her face only scrunching in displeasure as she settled further against the post.
Celeste decided to steer the conversation in a more productive direction.
"Were you able to dispose of her?" she asked tightly, trying not to dwell on the sinking realization threatening to consume her.
Her father's soldier had been on her ship; had nearly killed her. And there were more of them, a thousand more disguising themselves so thoroughly that they'd willingly severed their own wings to hunt for her. All on the off-chance that she'd survived.
And she had.
But her father didn't know that . . . yet.
Her stomach churned at the thought.
Ithaca nodded curtly. "The half-breed fire-wielder made quick work of it. Though that didn't stop the boy from demanding answers." She gave a small, devilish smirk. "I told him you were incapacitated for the time being and to mind his business. And that his lovely captain," she shot an assessing look to Fallon propped against the desk, "would explain when it was necessary."
Celeste groaned.
She wasn't sure how, but poor Koda always found himself cleaning up everyone else's messes.
She'd have to find a way to make it up to the boy.
Especially because she'd asked specifically for him to be the one to do it. After what Nima had done, how easily she'd slipped in . . . she wasn't certain she could trust her own men anymore, even with Ithaca's assurance that she'd been the only infiltrator.
The thought saddened her more than she liked to admit.
"Mind your mouth about my crew," her fellow captain growled from across the room, flanked by her fathers, all three having come running the second word had gotten out that Celeste had nearly been skewered.
Avi had instantly pounced on Ithaca the second he'd emerged in the cabin, woefully oblivious to the fact she hadn't actually been the one to attack her. The sound of their steel clashing had screeched so violently that Celeste knew if they ever truly came to blows . . . it would level everything in sight.
It'd been Vaerek's dry voice that had cut through his lovers' frenzy, calmly informing him that he didn't think their resident demon had been to blame as he'd casually gestured towards Nima's corpse sprawled in her own puddle of blood.
The fact hadn't stopped the look of utter male dominance that had crossed Avi's face at the confrontation though, a male desperate to overpower anything that threatened him own or the absolute hissy fit of indignant snarling that had slipped free of Ithaca as they nearly locked blades again.
To everyone's surprise, Gandriel had been the one who'd snapped at them all, demanding they focus, somehow acting as the mature one.
If Celeste hadn't known better she might have thought she'd hit her head.
"Regardless, the female's dead now so we can move on to more pressing matters," Ithaca chimed, crossing her heeled boots over one another.
"No thanks to you," Gandriel muttered coldly.
"Correct, Gandriel," Ithaca gave a serpentine sneer, "it was actually thanks to you."
She felt her first mate stiffen next to her, his scent becoming a tangled mess of guilt and shame. For what he'd done to Nima. He hadn't regretted it, not in the sense that he'd done it to protect her, but Gandriel . . . he'd never killed in cold blood. He'd always somehow found ways to incapacitate or kill by association, never with a blade and certainly not by his own hand.
And his sorrow, the tainted, aching thing . . .
Celeste found a growl loosening from her own lips, even as her own head ached with the rumbling.
"Let it go, Ithaca."
"So touchy today, you lot."
Celeste sent her a pointed look.
"Get on with it."
"Very well," Ithaca snipped. "It took some scouring but I found information on Dermot's personal party. As of now he only keeps a handful of human guards and his fae companion Dune with him."
Gandriel snarled at the name.
The same male who had apparently faced his mother and father years before his birth in this same damned war.
"I also found out where they're hiding. Since I've done such a phenomenal job of sniffing out their trading routes," she paused, reveling in her own glory, "they've started moving through harsher territories, setting up their headquarters in the lower inland swamps that lie to the south of little Koschei's former domain."
The woman smiled in a way that told Celeste the woman had personally known the former death god who'd been conquered nearly a century ago. The hair on her arms stood.
Koschei, the god who'd captured maidens at his leisure, turning them into fair birds to keep him company in his lonely little island, and that they were heading to that now-abandoned territory . . .
An ally to Ithaca then, or at least someone she knew by association. And the way she spoke of him so casually . . . he hadn't frightened her in the least.
From the way Avi had stilled, he'd caught the implication too.
"They're fools to even try it," Vaerek grumbled, "Those swamps are teeming with beasts that even the strongest high fae warriors would struggle to face, and since the death god's fall . . . even worse things have filled those lands."
Creatures of darkness that even the books from Celeste's childhood hadn't covered.
Monsters so foul that when they'd migrated from the Middle and across the sea to a new, larger territory none of the reigning territories had bothered to stop them.
Their legends had reached so far that even the humans of Vanica had whispered tales over campfires on starless nights to frighten the little ones.
"Some so ancient and evil that I think even our little demon friend would be frightened," Avi offered, looking sharply at Ithaca, the undercurrent of his words anything but friendly.
"If you want to tangle, seal pup, you need only ask." She gave him a wink that promised death, a slow, agonizing demise. Whatever was between them, this animosity . . . it wasn't over by a long shot.
Celeste half considered asking if they could do her a favor and fight it out in the Night Court, taking her father down with them as they scrapped amongst themselves.
Vaerek elbowed his lover none too gently in the ribs before asking, "This information, you're sure it's sound? How do we know they're not bluffing? That this isn't another trap?"
"The men I interrogated believed it thoroughly," Ithaca mused, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger, "though that is no guarantee, if their informants lied."
A casual evaluation of something that could easily doom them.
"And there's no way to gather more information, to plan this better before we act?"
"Not if you want to catch them, they're moving too swiftly, switching locales too frequently."
"Did they give you any specifics, any coordinates or markers to look for? Old gnarled tree, big soggy boot, something of that variety?" Fallon asked, her signature hat missing, no doubt left in her rush to get to Celeste. "'In the swamps' does little for us, those lands are huge."
"No, they did not seem privy to such details."
"Of course not," Anelisse grumbled, "why make it easy?"
"And your map, Ithaca?" Gandriel inquired, his scent blessedly having drifted back to normal, "Could we use it?"
The same map that had led her straight to Anelisse and the citizens of Vanica when Lukas had sold them out over a year ago.
"Afraid not, pet, whatever magic they're using is preventing magical items from tracing them."
"You mean to tell me you hunted all of those ships down on your own with no help?" Gandriel's voice was nothing less than skeptical, his shoulders bristling.
"Is it so hard to believe, boy?"
Given Ithaca's powers?
No, no it wasn't.
"When nothing but lies leave your mouth, yes."
Ithaca's eyes steeled as her voice went quiet as death, shadows beginning to pool in the corners of the room, "For all that I may be, understand one thing, child: I do not lie. Ever."
And that . . . Gandriel had struck a nerve. A sore one.
And yet somehow Celeste knew Ithaca's words to be true, felt it in the very bond they shared.
She would never lie.
Manipulation and lying by omission, perhaps . . . but a true lie? It would never cross the woman's lips.
"So then what do we do?" Fallon interjected, a muscle feathering in her jaw. "Just head to the swamp and wander about until we find them? Hope we don't get ambushed along the way? Hope that we can avenge our fallen friends on a fool's errand?"
Anger . . . that was anger building in Fallon. Something so hot and molten that Celeste wasn't sure she'd ever want to be on the receiving end of it.
"I can track them," Ithaca began. "I can easily find the vermin wherever they're hiding if I'm within a certain proximity—"
"Not a chance in hell," Avi growled, pushing off the desk. "You will not lead these children to their demise. Will not lead my child to her end on a fool's hope. I won't have it."
"So sanctimonious and protective for a male that allowed humans to butcher his own," Ithaca shot back. Something shattered through Avi's gaze at the words, a knife twisted in an open wound. The shock on his face told Celeste that this was something he hadn't told Ithaca, hadn't told anyone. "Tell me, little lord is it your fear of losing your family that drives your pious ways? Or is it purely your bull-headed male ego—"
"Shut your fucking mouth," Fallon snapped, fire burning hotly in that narrowed gaze, the sea siren finally showing the sharp teeth she usually hid so easily. Celeste could have sworn the very room around her tightened, as though the world itself would find a way to remove the woman if Fallon so desired it. "Another word and I will drag you from this cabin personally and make you regret ever stepping foot here."
And that hot temper, barely caged and smoldering . . . Celeste suddenly understood why Fallon and Lucien had made such an interesting pair: the sea witch and her clever fox.
She felt Ithaca's temper flare and immediately slammed down on the bond.
The last thing she needed was Ithaca uttering another damning word. The sound of all of their bickering was grating on her last fucking nerve. Her head hurt too much for their mindless yapping, and with news of her father's movements . . . she didn't have time. For any of it.
Ithaca spluttered beside her but merely harrumphed before sitting on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest like a child.
"I will go so Fallon doesn't have to, Avi." Because if they were to be ambushed and killed . . . well, better her than her fiery friend whose fathers would give life and limb to protect. "So none of you have to."
The look Avi gave her, the one of a protective father, told her that she'd entirely missed the point of his speech.
She tried not to dwell on the unspoken emotion that lay there.
The love and acceptance that the selkie lord had given all of them so freely, a feeling so foreign that she didn't know how to process it. Didn't know why it cracked open a well of longing in her chest, a sense of melancholy for memories that she did not possess.
Slowly Celeste rose, relieved to find no dizziness, and pushed out of her sister and Gandriel's clutches, making way for her armoire and weapons rack, calculating in her mind what exactly she'd need to put to an end to the slaver.
"You stay here and watch over things, keep up the work with placing the slaves."
"Are you seriously just leaving me here again?" Fallon snapped, cocking that fiery head to the side, some of that fury having evaporated. "Every time you leave me here to run off on your own someone dies or you end up collapsing and eating plank. I'm going."
"No, you're not," -an order, and a plea- "I need people here who I can trust to watch my men." If she could even call them that anymore. "And to make sure these people find homes. No one else can make that happen, Fallon, I don't have the connections you do. And if something goes wrong," she stared Fallon and her fathers down, "I need someone here who can still stand and fight him. Who I know can take him if I'm no longer a player in this game."
And she certainly didn't trust the seven courts to do it.
A silent pause lingered between them.
"I swear by the Mother-" Fallon looked skyward before sighing, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Very well, but if something happens I swear it on my life I will resurrect you myself beat your ass from one end of this ship to the other, is that clear?"
"Yes."
Something like relief flashed across Vaerek's face as his shoulders released, even though his eyes remained full of concern as he watched her pull her blades and pack free. She'd be taking her whetstone to make sure her blades were as honed as possible when she put down the slaving leader.
"And you?" Fallon turned her knowing gaze towards the blondes on the bed. "Will you be staying to assist in the efforts of placing slaves or running off with your captain into certain death?"
"Yes."
"No."
The words came out at the same time. Celeste stared down her sister and first mate, her face stony.
"The answer is no."
"Like hell it is," Anelisse groused, jumping to her feet and striding towards her sister. She shoved Celeste aside with a hip and began digging through her side of the closet, pulling free her own traveling clothes. "Just try and keep me here, see what happens."
"Do not push this with me, Anelisse, not this time."
She'd give her sister anything she wanted, would allow any freedom . . . except this.
"And what will you do? Tie me to the bed?" Such defiance in those words, in those pale silver eyes. Why was Anelisse so irrevocably stubborn—
"If I'm not taking Fallon I'm sure as hell not taking you, you're only human—" And that meant disaster. Whatever they were up against . . . she couldn't fight Dermot and assure Anelisse's safety as well.
Hurt flashed in her sister's eyes.
"And therefore . . . what? Vulnerable?" Anelisse stared her down with the fury of a thousand suns, spine locking as she straightened to her full, albeit petite, height. "Vulnerable I might be, but I'm not useless. And if I'm to die anyway let it be for something good—"
Her sister's never-ending obsession with her own mortality-
"My ass, you're dying." The very thought made Celeste's mouth go dry, her mind numbing against the horror of such an outcome. "This is exactly why you need to stay—"
Gandriel she would allow to go, not happily but out of necessity. She also knew that the male could flee if things were to go south, could get back to the ships to warn the others. And his help along with Ithaca's . . . they could take Dermot and Dune. But with Anelisse present, with her life hanging in the balance . . .
"I will watch her." The words froze Celeste in her rampage, her attention flickering to Ithaca who watched them quietly. "If you allow Anelisse to go, then I will protect her." Her sister and the woman shared a look, an unspoken conversation that Celeste could not decipher. "I swear it on my life."
"See? Problem solved—"
"Little Pearl, please." That was Avi, his voice pained as he spoke. "You must understand—"
"This isn't your decision." Clipped, harsh words instantly quieted the kind male. He shot Ithaca a look that promised a brutal end.
"Please, Anelisse—"
"No."
Celeste didn't even bother arguing further, knowing that with Ithaca's promise her sister would not back down. Would sneak from the ship in the middle of the night to join them even if it went against every order she gave her.
And to deny her in such a way . . . it would strike a blow clean between their relationship, severing something she valued above all else. And even if that blow were worth it, to ensure her sister's safety…..
She looked to Gandriel who merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Wherever she goes, I go."
Celeste saw the unspoken words, The same applies to you.
She turned her gaze to Ithaca, the woman watching her curiously. Down that bond she sent the words she could not utter, coating them in a hoarfrost only a creature of darkness could conjure, a warning and a promise. If you let anything happen to her, it will be your life.
Noted, girl.
"Well, I guess that's settled then," Celeste stared at the blades in her hands, at the shot of finality if she could just find Dermot, the implication that she might very well have to flee once this war had been won. "We leave at dawn."