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Isabela

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#1
[[30th Bloomingtide, 9:24 Dragon, Antiva City, morning]] Celeste Monroe

“Signora...Signora? It’s time for you to wake.”

Naishe groaned, reached aside and firmly pulled a pillow across her face, successfully blocking out the sunlight that had spilled across her when the curtains had been opened. Only seconds later it was whisked from beneath her arm - it was hard to keep a good grip on silk - and a silhouette loomed over her. Madame Alfonsi was an imposing woman, broad armed and with a chest that could probably serve as a battering ram if needed, and consequently always looked a bit ridiculous in the formal dress and frilly cap of the serving staff. But she did a good job of running the house, and was equally good at her unofficial second job of herding Naishe around like a recaltrient goat.

“The master will have guests later this morning. He’s requested that you be bathed and ready to greet them.”

He’d mentioned something about that the previous night, but the details had been lost under the fug the wine had left behind in her head. Luis had wine far better than anything she’d had before coming to the city, but it was stronger than she was used to - which served her purposes admirably. It meant she was more able to tolerate him bucking around on top of her of an evening, or whatever particular thing he’d requested for that evening. Her husband’s education of her had gone beyond stuffing her in a library and memorising all the fancy dances, and some of it might actually be useful if he cared about her pleasure at all.

Consequently, as the enjoyment of warm baths, nice dresses and jewellery had given way to spectacular boredom, she was starting to chafe at the limitations placed on her movements. Luis wanted her pretty, smart enough to make conversation without actually challenging anybody, and importantly never, ever left to her own devices. He’d known she was a thief when he bought her, and had told her she’d never need to steal again. When she’d done it once for fun, he’d chuckled indulgently over his young bride’s ways, and she’d enjoyed the brief taste of freedom. The second time his fury had been incandesent, and Madame Alfonsi had followed her almost everywhere ever since.

“Five more minutes.” It was an increasing source of pleasure to cause minor irritations for Luis, even if it was just being a little late. Madame Alfonsi was having none of it this time; she whisked the sheets away.

“Nonsense. Up and ready. He’s picked out a nice dress for you, and your jewellery. All you have to do is bathe and then sit in front of the vanity.”

Luis’ fun little way of establishing control lately was choosing what she’d wear each day. Mostly it wasn’t really a bother, but once or twice recently she’d been given something that bore more flesh than seemed necessary, then been left with his leering friends. Nothing had come of it apart from the odd sidelong look - Antivan husbands supposedly guarded their wives jealously - but she had a nasty feeling about it. At least so far there had been servants in the room, preventing any attempt at handsiness.

Hopefully today wasn’t one of these days. Now chilled by having the blankets ripped off, Naishe sighed and sat up as other servants brought in the tub. The next hour she simply went through the motions, letting herself be scrubbed down, her hair arranged, and then laced into her dress, making an effort to keep her internal screaming at the idea of sitting in the parlour making polite conversation again off her face. At the final stage there was a knock at the door, then everybody jumped to attention as Luis strode in.

“There she is. I trust you’ll be on good behaviour today?”

Naishe smiled at him while envisioning driving one of her hairpins through his neck. “Would I disappoint you, husband?”

“Would you?” There was something ugly in his smile today. The air between them crackled like breaking ice; she didn’t know what she’d done to offend him but he was clearly on edge. “They’re not particularly important as far as titles go, but they’re rather...astute...traders, and I value their services. You are not to say or do anything to upset either of them.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Luis waved away the servant holding up a necklace, and drew another, much more ornate one from his pocket. “Good girl.” He drew the jewellery around her neck; it was heavy, and gold, with large gaudy purple stones. It felt like he was fastening a collar on her. When he was done, he smiled at her reflection in the mirror, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “What an exotic beauty. They’re sure to like you, if you keep a civil tongue.” He caught her chin, pulling her just a little too hard to face him. “Now. They’re rather free spirits by reputation, these two. They want more food, they get more food. They want more wine, they get it. You are to comply with their requests to the utmost, do you understand me?”

Bite his hand.

She came that close to it, too. But his beady black eyes were on her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her own as guileless as she could make them. After all, if she pretended not to realise a pass had been made at her, how could she comply with that? She nodded. “Of course, husband.”

“There we go. Now, they’re expected any moment. Get down to the hall.”

He held out a hand to her and she took it, allowing him to assist her in rising - in fact, putting a little extra weight in the seat, so he had to pull a touch harder than normal. His eyes narrowed at her, but she was already glancing ahead, sweeping out of the room to head down the stairs.

Once in the hallway she straightened her dress, wincing a little as the elaborate curled hairstyle tugged at the hairs at the nape of her neck. She would be expected to greet the pair, and then guide them to Luis’ study, where he would pretend he had been very busy getting on with other things. It was a farce, and once he was safe behind the heavy door, she made a rude raspberrying noise with her mouth.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#2
Celeste stood before the open doors of the wardrobe that had been built into the wall of the captain’s cabin, considering her options. She had some dresses that would accentuate her curves and display daring amounts of cleavage, and she didn’t mind showing off, but from all accounts, Luis was a pig who would be undressing her with his eyes if she was clad in an old potato sack, so she was leaning toward ‘comfortable’ instead.

She glanced back at Daniel as he buttoned up a black silk shirt, then tucked it into the black leather pants that showed off his ass quite nicely … not that Luis would be appreciating the view. “What’s his wife like?” she wanted to know. The merchant’s invitation had specifically included Celeste and made mention of the missus.

“No idea,” Daniel admitted, peering into the mirror and running the fingers of one hand through his dark hair, leaving it charmingly mussed and contrasting with the neatly trimmed beard, “but from what I’ve heard, he likes his women pretty and biddable.”

“And as dumb as a load of ballast stones, no doubt.” Celeste made a rude noise, and Daniel chuckled as she turned back to the wardrobe. If she was going to have to suffer through several hours of insipid conversation on the weather and current fashion, she was definitely going to be comfortable. She selected a pair of brown leather trews, white linen shirt with bloused sleeves and a leather vest with three brightly dyed parrots tooled on the back. Slipping into her chosen garb, she gave her own hair the same quick fingercomb treatment before snagging a narrow headband of braided leather from its hook on the wardrobe door. Three parrot feathers - red, green and blue - dangled from the headband on a strip of leather, falling beside her left ear when she put it on. “How do I look?” she asked, whirling back to Daniel with her hands on her hips.

“Like a sailor’s dream,” he told her, sinking into his armchair with that slow grin that could loosen the thighs of a grand cleric, “and your father’s worst nightmare.”

“Ha!” She straddled his lap, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him thoroughly.

“Keep kissin’ me like that, lass,” he breathed when they parted, “and we’ll no’ be leavin’ this cabin.”

“Keep purring at me in that Starkhaven brogue, and I’ll take you up on that,” she countered, kissing him again. It was a pleasant thought, but this meeting was a fairly important one, so after a bit more mussing and a mutual agreement to continue when they returned, they straightened out the worst of the mussing and headed topside.

“Have fun,” Gideon smirked at them from his seat atop the fo’c’sle. He was on watch; the rest of the crew was sleeping off the indulgences of Antiva City’s night life in preparation for the next night’s carousing. Any other time, Celeste would have been doing the same; an extended stay in a friendly port with no real work to be done was not to be wasted, but being the captain’s lady meant more than having a marvelously creative bedmate, and the trust implicit in her inclusion in this meeting was something she was only now beginning to earn back.

It had been less than two months since her refusal to heed Daniel’s warnings on restraint had ended with the crew of the Wicked Grace having to save her ass from slavers and Gideon nearly getting killed. The Tal Vashoth held no grudges, but Daniel had come very close to ending things and taking her back to her father. It had been a brutal lesson in consequences for one who had been largely spared them for most of her life, and she was determined to make amends. If that meant a few hours of inane chitchat with a feather-brained bedwarmer while Daniel negotiated a deal with Luis Lombardo, she’d do it.

“His wine’s supposed to be good, anyway,” Daniel said as they headed down the gangplank. Once on the docks, she slipped her arm into his and they strolled toward the part of the city where the wealthier merchants lived. The first few times they had returned to Antiva City, Celeste had kept a wary eye out for his father, until it had become apparent that he had no interest in finding her. Now she was free to enjoy one of her favorite cities: the balmy climate; the flowers that bloomed in riotous color about every villa and in every public space; the street performers ranging from jugglers to musicians to mimes to trained animals that turned every street into an outdoor theater; the food vendors whose carts and stalls filled the air with a melange of savory aromas. Antiva City was a feast for the senses, and Celeste delighted in each new course that presented itself.

“What does he want with us?” Celeste asked Daniel as they walked.

“Luis is an odd one,” her lover replied, a whimsical smile playing about his lips. “For all his trading, he only owns one ship: the Siren’s Call, and he only puts her to sea if he’s aboard. He hires out the rest of his shipping, but he’s lost a fair amount to pirates the last few months, and even more to customs.”

Scratch the surface of nearly any merchant who traded across borders and you’d find a smuggler, looking to get past the duties that most nations placed on imported goods. Those who succeeded could undercut the competition and still turn a tidy profit. The Wicked Grace wasn’t the biggest ship to sail the seas of Thedas, but she was one of the fastest, and the reputation of her crew was formidable enough that few raiders cared to go to the trouble of trying to chase her down. And avoiding customs inspections was one of the things that they did best. Daniel knew every isolated cove within easy reach of every major port, where larger cargo could be offloaded and brought the remaining distance overland under the guise of domestic trade, and the smuggler’s holes secreted here and there aboard the Wicked Grace had concealed all manner of smaller items while legitimate cargo was being unloaded and loaded until it could be sneaked off under cover of night.

The Lombardo estate was far from the largest - those belonged to the merchant princes - but like all of the others, it was meticulously landscaped and scrupulously maintained. Appearances were everything, and a merchant with any ambition would place the appearance of his abode over food in his belly, were a choice required. Ascending the steps to the elaborately carved mahogany door, Daniel grasped the bronze knocker cast in the shape of a leaping fish and knocked smartly.
 

Isabela

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#3
Naishe almost swallowed her tongue when her rude sound was drowned out by the door knocker. One of the servants, his mouth twitching slightly around the edges, went to answer it; Naisha didn’t much care if he reported her to Luis. What was he going to do, get mad because she’d made a noise?

Actually, she wouldn’t put that past him. He’d not raised a hand to her as such, perhaps realising that to do so would cause open war between them, but he’d definitely been more curt with her than he’d been at the beginning. Frankly Naishe found the current state of affairs preferable. She might be bored out of her mind but she didn’t have to put up with him slobbering all over her the entire time.

Maker, what she wouldn’t give to raise a bit of mischief, though. She was always accompanied on her trips to market and her purse carefully watched; she’d not lost her sleight of hand, though, and found an outlet in pilfering small things when she could. But it wasn’t enough. Even her latest project of practicing her lockpicking on the wine cellar only afforded her a thrill through the risk of discovery for a few moments at a time. If she made off with a bottle, it’d be noticed almost right away.

It certainly didn’t seem like the tedium would be relieved today. Luis’ preferred method of conducting business meetings was to whisk the day’s merchant into his study and leave Naishe to entertain any wives or mistresses that had accompanied them. She’d never dreamed that people could while away so much of their lives on gossip, and really boring gossip at that. Whats-her-names cousin got engaged to whosits child by Lord Fartarse’s second marriage, but supposedly he wasn’t as rich as he’d made out and it was all done for a swap of dowry for prestige, and on it went until Naishe seriously considered setting fire to a few overburdened petticoats.

With a not entirely convincing smile in place, she nodded for the servant to open the door.

She’d been expecting another Antivan merchant prince and his wife in more layers and ruffles that made sense. Instead, a handsome man dressed in a smarter version of a sailor’s garb stood on the doorstep, and beside him a woman with wild blonde hair and wicked green eyes who was attired in about the same fashion.

Naishe had been raised too canny by her mother to let her surprise show, beyond a slow, approving raise of one eyebrow and a more genuine inflection to her smile. “Buonasera, Captain Monroe. Signora Monroe.” Forward as Luis had taught her, catching the hands of the lady first and pressing a kiss to both cheeks, before doing the same to the man, with far less distaste than usual. “I’m Naishe Lombardo. Welcome. My husband will be along in a moment.”

He’d be sitting in his study, listening, and she could imagine him cursing now as he realised he would have to come out to them rather than wait for them to presented as though he was some sort of monarch. “Wine, perhaps? Luis keeps a fine cellar.”

She poured the drinks herself - another ‘misstep’ - and had only just placed them in the couples’ hands when Luis appeared, his teeth a little too gritted to make his smile sincere. “Ah, Captain Monroe. Welcome.” The only indication he gave that he realised the woman was there was to afford her a brief nod. “I hope my wife has been hospitable?” He cast what could have passed for a fond glance in her direction. “She’s young, and her manners yet require polishing, but she is trying.”

In the irritating sense of the word, presumably. Naishe affected her most innocent look until he turned away, then extremely discreetly rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry to press, but if we can retire to the study to discuss matters, Captain Monroe - Naishe can entertain your wife, in the meantime.”

That promised to be somewhat more interesting of a prospect than usual.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#4
A neatly attired valet opened the door and ushered them in. At first glance, the woman who greeted them was pretty much what Celeste had been expecting: fancy dress, the cut perhaps a bit more revealing than current Antivan fashions; hair in an elaborate upsweep with a few curls free at the ears and neck; an ostentatious gold and amethyst necklace that drew the eye to the view offered by the daringly cut neckline. Unusual for an Antivan husband to put his wife on display in such a manner, but she was undeniably a beauty, with rich brown skin, nearly black hair and striking, hazel-gold eyes. Even more unusual was the undeniable gleam of intelligence in those eyes, the slightest appraising arch of one eyebrow before her face smoothed back into a mien of pleasant hospitality.

“Buonasera, Captain Monroe. Signora Monroe.” Her Antivan was flawless, but touched with an unmistakable Rivaini accent. Stepping forward, she offered the traditional kiss to first one cheek, then the other, her hands warm in Celeste’s, their eyes meeting briefly before she turned to greet Daniel in the same manner, sending a pleasant frisson dancing along Celeste’s spine. No ballast stones here; this visit might not be such a chore after all. “I’m Naishe Lombardo. Welcome. My husband will be along in a moment.”

“Buonasera, Signora Lombardo.” Daniel took the lead, as was expected, smiling warmly at their hostess, though not so warmly as to be inappropriate. “Daniel Monroe, and my wife, Celeste.”

“A pleasure, Signora,” Celeste offered in turn, not needing to feign her own congeniality. “Your house is lovely.” Perhaps Luis would be a similarly pleasant surprise.

“Wine, perhaps?” Naishe suggested, gesturing toward a small table with a crystal decanter and several long-stemmed glasses. “Luis keeps a fine cellar.”

“Please,” Daniel responded politely. Celeste accepted the glass of claret when it was offered and sipped appreciatively. Good wines were something she had begun cultivating a taste for since coming aboard the Wicked Grace.

“Very good,” she murmured. “Rialto?” her questioning glance to Daniel was met with an approving nod.

“Nineteen Dragon, I think,” he commented, looking to Naishe for confirmation.

The lord of the manor made his entrance, clad in a doublet of russet leather over a scarlet silk shirt, his smile looking a trifle strained. “Ah, Captain Monroe. Welcome.” His eyes slipped dismissively past Celeste, and she decided to help him along, letting her expression slip into bovine placidity. “I hope my wife has been hospitable?” One could almost miss the edge in his voice as he regarded Naishe with what was undoubtedly meant to be an indulgent smile. “She’s young, and her manners yet require polishing, but she is trying.”

Celeste’s prig flags were fully unfurled by now; Luis was older than his wife by a good two decades by her estimation, and he didn’t wear his years nearly as well as Daniel did. He wasn’t fat, but he had a soft look to him … all except for his eyes, which were as hard and flat as those of a shark underneath the gleam of bonhomie that he presented. The glance that he bestowed upon Naishe defined their relationship as clearly as if he had shouted it: she was a trophy wife, as much an ornament as the heavy gold rings that adorned his fingers. And he didn’t have her nearly as under control as he wanted.

“She has made us most welcome,” Daniel assured him. “The Rilto is exquisite.” Mention of the wine turned Luis’ attention to the other man; as soon as his gaze shifted, Naishe rolled her eyes. Celeste kept her vapid expression in place, turning her mind to ruses that might get them out of what was likely to be a tedious and lengthy session. Luis had the manner of a man enamored of the sound of his own voice.

Luck was with her, it seemed. “I’m sorry to press,” Luis intoned with an air of importance, “but if we can retire to the study to discuss matters, Captain Monroe - Naishe can entertain your wife, in the meantime.”

“That sounds lovely!” Celeste chirped enthusiastically, keeping her featherbrain facade in place and hoping that her instincts were right. If they weren’t, she might have been better off listening to Luis and Daniel talk business.
 

Isabela

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#5
The pair praised the wine, and placed it accurately down to the year. It was a favourite game amongst Luis’ friends, and more than once Naishe had been tripped up by a sneering little waif who expressed her surprise that a proper Antivan wife didn’t know all the vintages off by heart. Not that Luis hadn’t tried, and Naishe did enjoy wine, but in the end, booze was booze. Who cared how fancy it was so long as it got you drunk enough to get through the day? But the Monroes didn’t appear to be doing it to show off their knowledge. They just knew.

Then Luis swept in with a pointed jab or two, and from the flicker of the other woman’s eyelids, his barbs hadn’t passed unnoticed. Fortunately Captain Daniel drew his attention away, while Naishe tried to read his wife’s face. Celeste’s expression had settled into a placidity that ran counter to what Naishe had noticed before, and remained unchanged as Luis suggested that the women talk separately from the men.

“That sounds lovely!”

Naishe hoped it was an act. If so, it was a very convincing one. Celeste wore exactly the sort of vapid smile Naishe knew Luis wished she’d perfect. But she was still not far enough under his thumb that his guests hadn’t occasionally caught her pulling expressions her husband would rather she didn’t.

Luis was quick about it, at least. When he was entertaining, he could blather on until Naishe considered ripping her own ears off - or even better, pulling the tongue from his head. But he had business in mind, and that meant money, and the promise of that spurred along his usual niceties. When they gathered to eat later there would be no escaping it, but they’d been granted a reprieve. He herded Daniel towards the study and with a sunny smile for the servants, Naishe linked her arm in Celeste’s. “Please, join me in the parlour. I’d be delighted to get to know you better.”

That, and the door to the parlour was quite thick. Closed, hopefully anybody lurking outside wouldn’t overhear any untoward conversation that might occur. Naishe was certain that her movements and anything she said went reported back to Luis if they didn’t come up to his standards, and she desperately wanted to talk freely for a change.

Some snacks and tea had been laid out for them in a prissy set of crockery that was more Orlesian than Antivan. Once the door was closed, Naishe released Celeste’s arm, and eyed the other woman as she ignored the tea altogether and poured out more of the wine that she’d just happened to bring into the room with them.

Sod being cautious. She grinned at the other woman. “You’re a bit different than most of the other wives I get introduced to. How did you end up getting dragged into this?”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#6
Five sentences and a couple of glances were more than enough for Celeste to take Luis’ measure. He was one of those delightful prigs who thought that women existed for only two reasons: looking pretty on his arm and warming his bed. Had it just been him, she would have sat through what was likely to be an exceedingly boring session just to see his expression when Daniel actually asked her opinion on matters of business. But his pretty wife was in attendance, and it was plain that he thought such weighty matters far too burdensome for their little heads. Naishe didn’t seem particularly disappointed - or surprised - at his dismissal, tucking her arm through Celeste’s while keeping the carafe of wine in her free hand.

“Please, join me in the parlour. I’d be delighted to get to know you better.” Her tone had just the right note of polite formality to it, and her pleasant expression was little different from the many women Celeste had interacted with when her father had taken her calling with him. She knew from experience that they could maintain that poise for hours on end, yammering on inanely about the weather and fashion without ever once giving a glimpse of anything resembling thought or will of their own. She’d made a game of trying to shake their composure with outrageous statements and stories. Most of them would titter nervously or give her a disapproving stare, but on some, she’d been able to see the connection made briefly before panic rose in their eyes and was swiftly smothered once more beneath the mask of domestic obedience, and would she care for more tea and perhaps one of these lovely scones? The notion of living a life like that felt only slightly less horrifying than being buried alive. Daniel sent her a wink over his shoulder as he followed Luis. She returned it; even if the next few hours were as dull as scraping barnacles from the hull, she would be able to escape eventually, and Daniel would make it up to her in ways that would not be dull in the slightest.

The parlor they entered was much like the ones she had sat in back then. Such rooms were the domain of the womenfolk, furnished according to their tastes, but the decor of this room, all lace doilies and velvet cushions, elaborately carved furniture and delicate porcelain, did not at all correspond with the woman on her arm, who entered as one would a long-occupied prison cell, closing the door on a vigilant looking matron who looked very much as though she wanted to follow.

The change that took place once all prying eyes had been shut out was fascinating. The subtle tension drained from Naishe’s lithe frame, and her expression as she stepped away from Celeste held open curiosity. Ignoring the tea that had been laid out for them, she poured more wine into her glass. Excellent idea and Celeste obligingly held out her own.

“You’re a bit different than most of the other wives I get introduced to,” Naishe observed with a delightfully mischievous smile. “How did you end up getting dragged into this?”

Time for a bit of testing. “Lost at cards,” she lied smoothly. “If I’d won, he’d have had to tie himself naked to the bowsprit as we made port.” She sighed regretfully at the lost opportunity. Made up or not, it would have been fun. “Guess I’ll have to get him naked the old fashioned way.” Most of the upper class women she’d encountered seemed to view sex as just another one of their wifely duties, performed with the lights out and never discussed in polite company. Having seen a good many of their husbands, Celeste supposed it was understandable, and she was willing to bet that Luis was as much a prize between the sheets as he was upright and clothed, which meant that his wife had likely never had an encounter that exceeded a minute and a half. With him, anyway. The gleam in the amber eyes suggested that Naishe wasn’t as docile as the face she had put on in the vestibule had implied.
 

Isabela

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#7
Celeste took the wine without a second glance at the tea tray. Naishe watched her closely. Part of it was long practice; from the moment she could toddle, her mother had been teaching her how to read people. The cut of their clothes, the way they carried themselves, the shifts which might indicate a weakness or where something might be hidden on their person. How to tell a tanner from a sailor, a sailor from a smith, and how a man with means might seem simply dressed in comparison to one living on credit. How the dart of their eyes might indicate which way they intended to go in a fight, or where their interest lay. Not that she’d been much more than a girl before she learned to recognise one particular look, no matter how subtly it was delivered.

There was a vague hint of it in Celeste’s expression now, but mostly she just seemed intrigued. Doubtless Naishe hadn’t been quite what she was expecting. So they were in the same boat on that one. Naishe wanted to know why Celeste had even bothered turning up in the first place.

“Lost at cards.” Plausible, Naishe supposed. Although she doubted Celeste would have come along if she’d really wanted to dig her heels in about it. “If I’d won, he’d have had to tie himself naked to the bowsprit as we made port.” She sighed, as a smirk spread across Naishe’s face. “Guess I’ll have to get him naked the old fashioned way.”

Daniel was a handsome man. It would have made quite the sight for everybody lining the docks on arrival. “It’s a shame Antiva City’s dockworkers were robbed of such a treat,” Naishe grinned. “You’d not have found yourself short of amicable trading partners had you done so. A shame you ended up with Luis.”

Maker, it was good to talk like this. She’d always been somewhat free with her tongue anyway, but had curbed it more as she’d begun to get a sense of how dangerous Luis might be. Being a little sharp with him, dancing around his rules, was permitted - just. But she’d heard enough whispered snatches of conversation and picked up enough documents on his desk to know that he was ruthless, and if she put his nose out of joint too far it was likely she would be the victim of a ‘tragic accident’.

So she’d kept most of the screaming crushed down inside her, but she was finding it more and more difficult lately to play along acting as the perfect wife. Something about Celeste made her abandon it entirely for the moment, and it was like when she was finally permitted to loose her corsets at the end of the day.

However she wasn’t daft enough to launch into a spitted rant about what an ass her husband was. Her hand swept out to the side, deftly plucking up a deck of cards, expertly shifting them from one hand to the other. Card cons had been amongst her first tricks, and she wondered how sharp the other woman was. “Perhaps we should play? I’d be happy to teach you what I know, so you’re not deprived of the pleasure next time.”

Her smile was bright, a little teasing. If Celeste didn’t know a few tricks of her own, Naishe would eat one of Luis’ biggest feathered hats.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#8
With the watchful eyes of her husband no longer present, the appraisal in Naishe’s frank gaze was more plain, but there was a touch of wariness, as well. Perhaps she risked punishment if the visit did not go well, but that didn’t stop her from offering more wine in lieu of tea, or asking outright why Celeste had come along.

She went with the flippant response out of habit; the truth was not something she was interested in revealing. Even if she hadn’t wanted to come, she would have, because Daniel wanted her with him, and not just to show her off. Even after her foolhardiness had nearly gotten Gideon killed, he treated her as a partner, asked her opinions, taught her the little tricks of the smuggler’s trade, included her in business matters. She had thought she was on some grand adventure, and it was definitely that, but there were other facets, with risks that were not always immediately apparent, and she could no longer be the spoiled little rich girl who did whatever she pleased. The memory of bloody froth flecking Gideon’s lips, Brannigan’s grim expression and Daniel’s haggard visage, and the betrayed, disappointed anger in his blue eyes when he had spoken with her afterward, once they were sure that Gideon would live … those were what motivated her even more than Daniel’s sober promise that another transgression of that magnitude would get her sent back to her father.

But just because she was being responsible didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun; Daniel had been drawn to her precisely because she wasn’t a prim and proper lady, so she responded to her hostess’ query with a tale that would have made a typical matron gasp in a properly scandalized manner, even as their imaginations were no doubt savoring the image of Daniel tied naked to the bowsprit.

Naishe didn’t even try to look scandalized. “It’s a shame Antiva City’s dockworkers were robbed of such a treat,” she remarked with a smile that made it plain that there was nothing wrong with her imagination. “You’d not have found yourself short of amicable trading partners had you done so. A shame you ended up with Luis.”

“He has a business proposition for us,” Celeste replied with a shrug, wondering if the trader had shared any of the details with his wife. “Pirates on the Waking Sea are getting bad, and he thinks that if the smaller traders group their ships, they’ll be safer without having to hire more muscle.” Every hand on the Wicked Grace could fight; that and her speed meant that she was rarely troubled by raiders who preferred easy targets. “We don’t have to bed him for that.” There was a certain amount of sympathy in her eyes with that remark. Luis wasn’t bad looking, but she seriously doubted that he was the sort of man who gave any thought at all to his wife’s pleasure.

A deck of cards appeared in Naishe’s hand with an artful flourish that brought an admiring smile to Celeste’s lips. “Perhaps we should play?” she suggested, shuffling them adroitly without looking down, amber eyes gleaming a playful challenge and her smile utterly delightful. “I’d be happy to teach you what I know, so you’re not deprived of the pleasure next time.”

“That sounds lovely,” Celeste responded without hesitation, dipping her voice into a playful mimicry of propriety, as though Naishe had proposed a game of croquet on the lawn. She was a decent hand at card games, but the negligent ease with which Naishe was manipulating the deck suggested that she just might have some tricks to pass on. “What’s your game? Wicked Grace? Diamondback? And what will the stakes be?” This last was accompanied by a mischievous grin. She was willing to bet that they could come up with something more entertaining to wager than the cookies on the neglected tea tray.
 

Isabela

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#9
Daniel and Celeste were being brought in as protection, or part of an alliance, it seemed. So far neither of them had displayed a combative nature, but Mother’s lessons in reading people had yet to be eradiated by Luis’ attempts to ‘civilise’ Naishe. She’d clocked their hands right from the beginning - capable, with nimble fingers. She knew that if she took Celeste’s hand, she would feel calluses from a hilt or along the inside of the fingers from a bow. Celeste had the frame of somebody used to hard work. Added to that, there was a sharp glint of intelligence in those green eyes. Naishe had no doubt whatsoever that the other woman could handle herself in a fight.

She was keen to discover just how observant Celeste was. Shuffling the cards caused a twinge of nostalgia in her chest. She wouldn’t much rather be back on the streets playing Find the Lady while her mother picked pockets - but she longed to put her skills to use in some other fashion. It would be nice not to just be a decorative ornament. And to have less of a pig for a husband.

Shaking the thought away, she quirked a grin at Celeste, offering to teach. Although she sincerely doubted that the other woman needed to learn.

“That sounds lovely.” Celeste’s response was quick, her tone perfectly in tune with that of the well-behaved wife, although her expression was anything but. “What’s your game? Wicked Grace? Diamondback? And what will the stakes be?”

“I’m quite partial to Dragon’s Cross, but Wicked Grace is my favourite. Partly because people can’t get too cross if somebody cheats, because it’s part of the game.” Getting caught was a cause of shame, absolutely, but you could lead the rest of the table by the nose and they could know it - as long as you weren’t caught. Naishe had last been spotted back when she was a child. But she was a bit out of practice against serious players, and that ache for...not home, but a place where she could actually be at ease...pulled again.

The places she’d go and the things she’d do, if she wasn’t so sure that Luis would have her killed for having the gall to abandon him.

“As to the stakes…” Naisha tapped the edge of one card against her lip. “Cookies and coin are boring. How about - a salacious story? Or a dare of the winner’s choosing?” Her smile widened, now in no way whatsoever confirming to the sort of expression a well-behaved Antivan wife would pull. She started dealing out the cards, glancing up at Celeste from beneath her eyelashes - and switching two cards around with a deft twist of her fingers, ensuring she had the more favourable hand. “What do you think?”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#10
The day was definitely looking up. While Daniel was stuck with Luis, Celeste found herself sequestered with his very intriguing wife, wine and a deck of cards. She’d be gloating shamelessly when they got back to the ship.

“I’m quite partial to Dragon’s Cross,” Naishe announced, still handling the cards with almost negligent ease, “but Wicked Grace is my favourite. Partly because people can’t get too cross if somebody cheats, because it’s part of the game.”

Better and better. With a name like Wicked Grace, everyone on the ship’s crew had to be at least familiar with the card game that, like life on the sea, required a mix of luck, skill and daring. Celeste had first encountered it as a young girl on docks and decks across Thedas, whenever she could elude the watchful eyes of her nanny or governess, but she’d only begun to learn the myriad nuances of cheating in the year since she’d run off with Daniel. “Wicked Grace it is, then,” she said without hesitation. Win or lose, it was bound to be entertaining.

“As to the stakes…” her hostess tapped a card thoughtfully to the curve of her lower lip. “Cookies and coin are boring. How about - a salacious story? Or a dare of the winner’s choosing?” White teeth flashed in a mischievous grin, drawing an answering smile from Celeste. Daniel was going to be so jealous! “What do you think?” Naishe started dealing, sparing a coy glance from beneath gorgeously long eyelashes. The view was enticing enough that Celeste almost missed the subtle motion of the other woman’s hands. Was she bold enough to try to cheat from the get-go? And good enough to get away with it … this time, at least, as Celeste hadn’t seen enough to call her on it.

“A dare, I think.” Naughty stories were the most fun when there was someone to be scandalized by the telling, and she strongly suspected that present company wasn’t the type to blush easily. She lifted her cards to inspect her hand. Serpents and Knights, not enough of either to make a solid hand. She drew a card, ignoring the temptation to draw two - not just yet; those stunning eyes wouldn’t miss much. A lone Angel joined her lone Song card; she put the Song into the discard pile and leaned back, lowering her cards and lifting her eyes to Naishe. “Where did you meet your husband?” she inquired casually. She rather doubted that she’d get an honest answer, but it might well nudge her opponent off balance and give her an opening.
 

Isabela

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#11
Naishe was fairly certain she hadn’t imagined the gleam of approval in Celeste’s eyes when she declared Wicked Grace her favourite game. That green gaze was liable to put all sorts of naughty thoughts in a girl’s head – particularly one who’d never been that inclined towards behaving in the first place. And Luis was precisely the sort of man who never saw a woman as a real threat to his ‘property’. Both of which went a ways towards explaining her choice of a salacious (filthy) story or a dare. And to her delight, Celeste went with dares.

They drew their first cards, and Naishe pretended to look at hers while studying Celeste’s face for tells from beneath lowered eyelashes. The other woman was good at hiding her reactions, or she had an indifferent hand – it was too early to tell. She hadn’t tried to play any tricks yet, so far as Naishe had seen. She glanced down at her own hand properly.

It was pretty bad. Only two Songs, everything else scattered across the types. She would have to do some cheating to even this out quickly. Which, of course, made it a far more interesting challenge. She didn’t hide the anticipatory grin that spread across her face as she selected a Knight and put him in the discard pile. As they were rearranging their hands, Naishe looked for an opening to grab a spare. The one advantage of this ridiculous dress was that she could hide things in the sleeves pretty easily. She’d won more than a few hands (and quite a bit of coin) off Luis’ smarmy friends before he found out and put a stop to it.

Before an opportunity presented itself, Celeste attempted to distract her. Or was genuinely curious, but could be both. “Where did you meet your husband?”

She decided on a variation of the truth. “Oh, it’s a beautiful tale.” Her gaze was on Celeste’s face but her peripheral vision was engaged with working out an advantage. “He found me, a poor young girl on society’s midden in a benighted village in Rivain, and swept me up from the dirt to give me a life only few could dream of.” In fact, most people would have counted her lucky. She’d even believed it herself, sort of, to begin with. Before all the rules, and the leering friends and unsubtle suggestions. She could easily have outrun him but she’d been so hurt by her mother’s betrayal that she hadn’t even tried.

She didn’t doubt that Celeste would draw her own conclusions from the omissions in Naishe’s story – not least the utter lack of any interest on Naishe’s part. It had been strategically deployed to distract. Time to flip it around. “Have you ever been to Rivain?”

As she asked, she took her next card, picking up two perfectly aligned with one another, filtering them into the hand. Two Songs. Perfect.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#12
One of the things that Celeste had always enjoyed was watching someone doing something that they were good at. Something they enjoyed doing. There was no pleasure to be had in a virtuoso performance if the performer plodded through like an ox pulling a plow. Seeing Naishe now, the mask of the obedient cipher of a wife slipping away to reveal the card shark beneath, was nothing short of delightful, and entertaining enough that Celeste did not in the least mind the drubbing she was likely to take from one who had clearly been practicing her art for much of her young life. She hadn’t learned it in a tea parlor … or if she had, Celeste wanted to know which one.

“Oh, it’s a beautiful tale,” Naishe replied without hesitation when Celeste inquired about how she had come to be with Luis. The mesmerizing golden eyes remained upon her, the faintest sardonic gleam echoing the barely detectable edge beneath her words. If you didn’t know what to listen for, it would be easy to believe that she was marveling at her good fortune. “He found me, a poor young girl on society’s midden in a benighted village in Rivain, and swept me up from the dirt to give me a life only few could dream of.”

It was surely the dream of many a young girl trapped in poverty: to be whisked away from her old life by a handsome and wealthy suitor into a world of luxury and ease. Fine food, fine clothes and servants to cater to your every whim. All you had to give up was everything that you were. For some, the trade might not be so hard, but it had always felt to Celeste like a corset two sizes too small, and she suspected that Naishe found it a similarly ill fit.

“Have you ever been to Rivain?” the other woman inquired offhandedly as she reached for the deck … had she drawn two cards? Oh, she was good!

“I have!” Celeste replied brightly. “My father’s ships traded there regularly … Dairsmuid and Aysleigh, mostly, but I visited Llomeryn with Daniel last year, and the bazaar there is simply amazing!” A bit of mischief touched her eyes as she added, “I stole so many lovely things!” See how Naishe reacted to that. And unlike her father, Daniel had roared with laughter when she emptied her pockets in their cabin, then showed off his own acquisitions.

Time to try a bit of cheating herself. Drawing two cards was the first trick she had learned, so she fell back on that, fanning and shuffling her hand to hide the number of cards as she took stock. Three Serpents and two Knights; not bad, but her lone Angel card had been joined by the Angel of Death. Rules dictated that she play that card immediately, bringing the game to an end … but Wicked Grace was all about breaking the rules.

“The best part though,” she went on, palming the Death card with the same deft movement that she had used to pilfer her way through the Llomerryn bazaar, “was when the Wicked Grace anchored in one of the isolated coves for a month this last winter.” She didn’t have to reach far for the longing sigh. “Warm water, sandy beaches, sun -” Her smile grew positively wicked, “- and no clothes.” A quick flick of her fingers slipped the card up the sleeve of her shirt.
 

Isabela

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#13
Naishe had mixed feelings about Rivain. On the one hand, it was where she had grown up, and was beautiful; not in the tasteful manner of the Antivans, but bright, flashing colours in clothes and winking from piercings, heavily spiced food, and most Rivaini had a zest for life that seemed almost entirely absent amongst the monied classes of Antiva. On the other hand it could be cloying hot, dust clinging to every pore, and of course it was home to her worthless waste of a mother. All that talent, as a con artist, and she’d let herself be bossed around by a bunch of horn-heads and when her daughter had refused to join the cult, sold her to the first man to make an offer. All her memories of the country consequently had a bitter tang.

But Celeste’s praise made her gut give a little twist out of nostalgia anyway. She remembered the bazaar fondly. There was always an overlapping babble of tongues and press of bodies, which made easy pickings of the fat coinpurses for a nimble-fingered girl. Apparently she wasn’t the only one to appreciate that quality, as Naishe learned when Celeste flashed her eyes at her. “I stole so many lovely things!”

Well of course, anybody Luis was talking to about helping him evade customs duties wouldn’t be entirely law abiding, but the boldness of the statement was such that Naishe lost concentration on the cards for a moment as she grinned openly at Celeste. “A behaviour my husband would find most unbecoming,” she said, adopting a faintly snotty tone for a moment before she gave up and snorted. “He thinks he’s tamed me against it.”

She wasn’t about to admit that he pretty much had, by dint of having her guarded at all times. She was still nimble, and quick, but Luis’ spies were everywhere and they’d report if she had anything that he hadn’t given to her himself. Once again, she became aware of the bars of her gilded cage, as though they were gradually shrinking in on her.

Celeste adeptly shuffled the cards. Naishe tried to see how many the sailor had in her hand, but she was too quick. Naishe thought she caught a faint gleam in Celeste’s eye, though. Good hand, or good bluffing?

“The best part though, was when the Wicked Grace anchored in one of the isolated coves for a month this last winter.” Celeste sighed happily. “Warm water, sandy beaches, sun-” The smile the sailor wore caused a distinct reaction in Naishe that Luis had never provoked. “- and no clothes.”

Naishe knew Celeste was cheating, she had to be by now, but hadn’t caught her at it yet, and her mind was stubbornly trying to recreate the mental image of Celeste in all her glory, bathed in the Rivaini sun. Pull yourself together. She wasn’t a naive Antivan lady, no matter how much Luis tried to reshape her, and instead of demurring, she met Celeste’s grin with one of her own. “I remember those beaches. There’s nothing like the feel of sun-warmed skin beneath your fingertips - either your own, or that of another.”

Celeste was inspiring her to be daring. “I used to play a game in the coves near there.” She bent forward, the corset doing an excellent job of pushing her chest into view, as she snaffled another two cards and slipping the useless one down the side of her bodice in a flash. “With the odd favoured companion. I would slip from one hiding spot to another, and-” she made a gesture with her fingers that would leave Celeste in no doubt as to what she was doing. “Letting my reactions be heard. If they could catch me before I finished, they could join in. It was fun, although most of the time I did let myself be caught - it’s so much more fun with two.”

Luis would have a heart attack if he heard her talking like this. That in itself was deeply exciting, and the increasing urge to see how Celeste would take to a pointed suggestion was becoming unbearable. Naishe discarded one card and lifted another, completely openly. “Your husband is very handsome. And judging by the grin on your face, I imagine you both enjoyed the Rivaini sun in equal amounts.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#14
Something flickered in the golden eyes when Celeste spoke of Rivain, but Naishe kept her expression unreadable … right up until Celeste bragged about her thefts. Then, white teeth flashed in a wide smile. “A behaviour my husband would find most unbecoming,” she proclaimed in a hoity-toity voice that was belied by the scoffing sound that followed it. “He thinks he’s tamed me against it.”

Maybe so, but an undercurrent in the other woman’s tone suggested that she was trying to convince herself, and a shadow of disquiet in her eyes triggered a twinge of empathy in Celeste’s chest. Luis hadn’t completely broken his bride yet, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. How long would it take? A year? Two? What would he do if she resisted? Celeste didn’t want to think about it, and she suspected that Naishe didn’t either.

Mention of the hidden coves and sunny beaches was only partly intended as a distraction in the game. She’d inadvertently touched a nerve in her new friend, and she wanted to make up for it by steering the conversation in a less sensitive direction.

It worked like a charm. Naishe’s eyes lit up, and her smile was an utter delight. “I remember those beaches,” she agreed, showing undiluted pleasure at the memory. “There’s nothing like the feel of sun-warmed skin beneath your fingertips - either your own, or that of another.”

That was a nicely evocative image, but Naishe wasn’t done. “I used to play a game in the coves near there. With the odd favoured companion.” She leaned forward, allowing the cut of her dress to emphasize her charms while her hands moved with a deftness that was, quite frankly, more fascinating to Celeste than the admittedly impressive view. Her mind detoured from the game to consideration of what other activities those nimble hands might be adept in. Her companion aided her imaginings. “I would slip from one hiding spot to another, and-” The gesture that she made would not be encountered at the average tea party, and the sultry smile on the full lips curled pleasantly beneath Celeste’s ribs. “Letting my reactions be heard. If they could catch me before I finished, they could join in. It was fun, although most of the time I did let myself be caught - it’s so much more fun with two.”

“Or more,” Celeste suggested, mentally adding it to her list of things to do the next time they dropped anchor in a suitable spot. Daniel would, she was quite certain, be game.

Wait - hadn’t Naishe already drawn this round? Sod it. Celeste was enjoying the game and the conversation too much to mind being effectively distracted. “Your husband is very handsome,” Naishe observed appreciatively. “And judging by the grin on your face, I imagine you both enjoyed the Rivaini sun in equal amounts.”

“That we did,” Celeste agreed readily, well aware of just how lucky she was. “He’s a marvelous lover, and knows any number of ways of pleasing a woman.” The barest pause and an impish smile. “Taught me most of what I know.” Daniel hadn’t been her first, but her earliest liaisons had been quick, urgent fumblings, with neither of them quite sure what they were doing and the risk of being caught by a parent or chaperon providing most of the thrill. Daniel was the one who had introduced her to the pleasure of hours spent in sensuous give-and-take limited only by the imagination of the participants, and had not objected in the least when she applied what she learned with other partners, though he was usually quite willing to join in when invited.

Thinking it was time to bring this round to a close and see what sort of dare resulted, she drew a card, then made to slip the Angel of Death from her sleeve and lay it face-up, ending the game. But she’d not had quite as much practice bringing items out of concealment as she had secreting them and fumbled; the corner of her card caught on the cuff of her sleeve and skittered across the table, leaving the Angel of Death leering up at her opponent.

“Oops,” she said, only mildly chagrined. She’d already known that she was at a disadvantage in this game, and there were more interesting diversions than cards in the offing. “What’s the penalty for getting caught cheating?” she inquired archly. In a tavern game, depending on who you were playing with, it could mean a knife at your throat and the sacrifice of all your coin in exchange for your life. On the deck of the Wicked Grace, it meant a lively round of heckling, but she was confident that Naishe could be more creative than that.
 

Isabela

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#15
Celeste was saucy, cheeky, intriguing - all things that Naishe could appreciate - but she was also so Maker-damn refreshing. After months of staid Antivan housewives and proper manners, Naishe was beginning to feel like herself again. More than that, as though ‘herself’ wasn’t something that needed smoothing out until she was acceptable. She’d almost forgotten that once upon a time she hadn’t thought of herself as somebody who needed improving at all. She just was who she was.

And Celeste, by joining in the jokes and showing approval of Naishe’s stories, was reminding her of that.

Plus, the smile that Celeste gave her when talking about Daniel’s abilities as a lover helped. Had they met in Rivain, Naishe would have hopped into bed with her without thought. She was quite keen to find out what ‘everything I know’ covered in Celeste’s case.

Before she could make a comment to that effect, Celeste stumbled. The Angel of Death card skittered across the table, very clearly not from Celeste’s hands. Oooh, naughty woman - she’d been doing exactly what Naishe had been doing, but she’d got caught. Celeste showed not the slightest sign of remorse. “Oops. What’s the penalty for cheating?”

Naishe plucked up the card, tapping it slowly against her lower lip as she locked her gaze with Celeste for a long moment. She’d spent a good long while learning to lock down her own desires when it came to Luis, and after a footman she’d befriended had vanished suddenly, she’d learned to obscure them altogether. But she knew there was no way she could disguise the hungry gleam in her eyes right now. So suddenly it took her breath away, she ached with the need to be touched by somebody who knew what they were actually doing.

She made her way over to a bookshelf, and rearranged a couple of the tomes there, before turning back. “Luis sometimes has the servants watch me through a peephole in the wall, just there. If I’m entertaining a male colleague of his. As far as I gather, he doesn’t do the same for female visitors, but I’d prefer to be safer than sorry.”

Naishe slowly turned back towards Celeste. “Perhaps - you might show me some of what Daniel taught you.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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They had barely played a single hand, and this was already one of the most interesting games of Wicked Grace in Celeste’s memory. Between her opponent’s skill and the playfully suggestive banter, arousal was simmering pleasantly in her blood, and when Naishe picked up her fumbled card and tapped it very deliberately against the swell of her bottom lip, amber eyes regarding her in brazen appraisal, the sparks arcing between them were all but visible, and oh-so palpable.

Instead of answering her mischievous query, Naishe rose and moved to the mahogany bookshelves that covered one wall of the room from floor to ceiling, the pristine condition of the spines proclaiming them to be ornamental in purpose: a rich man flaunting his wealth. Gone was the prim and proper carriage that her hostess had entered the room with; beneath the skirts of the fancy dress, hips moved in a sultry sway that was most pleasing to watch. So Celeste did, though curiosity divided her attention between the view and the reason for the trip.

“Luis sometimes has the servants watch me through a peephole in the wall, just there,” Naishe explained, shifting the position of two of the books on one of the mid-level shelves. “If I’m entertaining a male colleague of his. As far as I gather, he doesn’t do the same for female visitors, but I’d prefer to be safer than sorry.”

Celeste felt her eyes narrow at the word ‘entertaining’, but if he had the servants watching, it was suspicion, not prurient interest that motivated him. No doubt he saw women as nothing more than receptacles for a man’s desires, incapable of feeling any carnal needs of their own.

Naishe pivoted from the bookshelf, the needful gleam in her eyes something that Celeste would bet that Luis had never seen … or recognized if he did. “Perhaps - you might show me some of what Daniel taught you.”

And to think she’d considered begging off of this visit! Celeste met Naishe halfway, hands coming up to frame her face. “If this is your idea of a penalty, I’ll have to try harder to win next time,” she quipped before bringing their lips together. The kiss was slow and sensual, giving her partner plenty of room to respond, while the very tips of her fingers teased paths along the bare skin of the Rivaini’s neck and shoulders, and played with the wisps of hair that had escaped the combs and pins.

All too quickly, reason asserted itself. If the servants tried to look and found their view blocked, they might well investigate. Getting caught would undoubtedly mean punishment for Naishe and an end to whatever business deal Daniel was exploring with Luis. Fortunately, she knew of a place they wouldn't be disturbed.

She drew back. “Not here,” she breathed, then grinned. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on!”

First, the room. The Friends of Red Jenny had taught her an eye for detail and improved on her knack for improvising on the fly. People saw what they expected to see. In a quick flurry of activity, cards and wine were put away and the tea service brought to the table, a bit of tea in each delicate porcelain cup and a partly eaten cookie (they weren’t half bad, and she pocketed a handful for later) on each plate, and it looked for all the world as though a prim and proper tea party had been in progress. All that was missing was a pair of prim and proper ladies, but there were none of those about.

Grabbing Naishe’s hand, Celeste threw open the door to the parlor, breezing them both past the officious looking matron who had been hovering in the hall and ignoring her protests, bursting into the study and pulling Naishe after her.

“Darling,” she gushed to Daniel, pretending not to see the annoyance that flashed on Luis’ face before he hooded his expression, shark’s eyes shifting to the doorway where the outmaneuvered matron was gesticulating apologetically. “I’ve just had the most marvelous idea! Can I take Naishe to see the Wicked Grace? Please?” She batted her eyes winsomely; for just about any other audience, it would have been outrageously overdone, but Luis saw a woman behaving exactly as he expected: frivolous and brainless, if sorely lacking in proper discipline, and the irritation beneath his impassive features eased a bit

Daniel - bless him - didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t see why not,” he declared with an indulgent smile. “Just remember to stay out of the way of the crew.” As if she hadn’t been working the decks and sails alongside them for the last year. “Luis?” he asked, giving the other man a ‘what can you do?’ roll of his eyes and shrug.
 

Isabela

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#17
If only all Luis’ visitors were like this, he’d never hear a complaint out of her again. Naishe had forgotten what it was like to kiss somebody who actually responded to their partner; Luis wasn’t bad, but when he decided he wanted her, it was very clear who was in charge of the situation. Celeste was slow and deliberate, which had the effect of making Naishe want to pull her in closer for more - but at the same time, hold back a little, so she could enjoy longer the delicious sensation of the fingertips now tracing her skin. When they broke apart, Naishe trembled a little at the loss, even as her eyes gleamed with hunger.

After so long, it was like presenting a starving man with a feast, and she wasn’t sure if she would be sensible enough to restrain herself. The peephole might be blocked but to do too much more would be to risk getting caught, particularly if Madame Alfonso decided to check in on them…

Celeste thought the same thing, but judging by the grin she wore, it wasn’t going to get in the way. “Not here. I’ve got a better idea. Come on!”

Celeste started clearing the room, resetting it to how it had been laid out when they arrived, with a few new touches to suggest that all this time they had simply been nibbling at biscuits and indulging in some gossip and tea. Naishe followed suit, watching how the other woman worked. She was no stranger to deception but the desire that had been simmering was temporarily forgotten as she watched Celeste create the scene they needed.

Only temporarily, though. The moment they were done, Celeste seized her hand and Naishe was quick to follow. It was hard not to shoot a victorious grin at Madame Alfonso as they shot past her - she didn’t know what Celeste was planning, but anything that irritated that old bat was a win.

She almost pulled back a little when she realised Celeste was pulling them towards the study. Luis hated to be interrupted during business meetings (except when it was staged, and he wanted her to bring in some more wine or announce dinner at exactly the time that his guests needed distracting), but before she could stop Celeste had already pushed open the door and was speaking to Daniel.

“Darling, I’ve just had the most marvelous idea! Can I take Naishe to see the Wicked Grace? Please?”

It was incredible how she’d managed to drop the keen intelligence Naishe had seen at play during their card game, sounding for all the world like she had nothing between her ears but air. Luis’s forehead was visibly creased with irritation - but not suspicion. Daniel was clearly less bothered by the interruption. “I don’t see why not. Just remember to stay out of the way of the crew.” He glanced at her husband. “Luis?”

Luis’ gaze cut between them. “Hm. You have a fancy to see a working ship, my love?”

Naishe nodded. She couldn’t go quite as brainless as Celeste had been acting - Luis knew her, and would see through it - but she could definitely lean towards frivolous. “Celeste has been telling me all sorts of stories about it! Please, may I?”

Luis regarded them for a long moment. “Of course. Captain Daniel, I must ask your indulgence in remaining here until our wives return; a matter of insurance, if you will.” He stood up and came over to Naishe, catching her elbow before pecking her on the cheek. “Have a good time.” Then, lower, into her ear “If I hear one thing - one thing - from anybody about any sort of misbehaviour around the docks - I will be holding you accountable. Behave.”

His fingers tightened painfully on her elbow before a moment, before letting her go. “Off you go, then. Don’t be too late back.” He flapped a hand at them, as though shooing away a pair of dogs. “Now, Daniel, I must speak to you about the shipping route near Brandel’s Reach…”

It was a dismissal - Naishe took it as such and left the room. Relief was written large on her face as she turned to Celeste, and then it was submerged beneath the wide grin that broke out. Luis would question her at length later, no doubt, but for a few blissful minutes - maybe even hours - she would be free. She held out her arm to Celeste, at exactly the proper angle. “Shall we?”
 

Celeste Monroe

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Luis might not be suspicious of Celeste, but his heavy-lidded eyes were flat as he regarded his wife.

“Hm. You have a fancy to see a working ship, my love?” The words were casually spoken, but Celeste felt her hackles rising.

If Naishe was affected, she gave no sign. “Celeste has been telling me all sorts of stories about it! Please, may I?”

Celeste kept her expression vapidly enthusiastic as Luis glanced from her to Naishe and back. “Of course.” His indulgent smile never reached those shark’s eyes. “Captain Daniel, I must ask your indulgence in remaining here until our wives return; a matter of insurance, if you will.”

Daniel chuckled. “You’ve heard how we met, I presume?” he responded easily.

Their host did not reply. Standing, he moved to his wife, his hand curling around her elbow as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Have a good time,” he bade her before turning to murmur into her ear. Celeste couldn’t hear the words, but she could see his fingers digging cruelly into the flesh of Naishe’s arm, see her features tighten in tightly controlled pain. She locked eyes with Daniel; he saw it too, cautioning her with the slightest shake of his head, the minute gesture of his hand against the well-padded arm of the leather chair as clear as words.

Not here.

She schooled her expression back into bovine placidity as Luis straightened. “Off you go, then,” he told her with a negligent wave of his hand. “Don’t be too late back.” He turned away, back to being a businessman. “Now, Daniel, I must speak to you about the shipping route near Brandel’s Reach…”

Taking her cue from Naishe, Celeste followed the other woman out into the foyer, the anger trying to spark into flame in her chest temporarily quelled by the exultant smile that spread over the beautiful face as soon as the door had closed behind them. “Shall we?” she asked, offering her arm.

Celeste linked hers through it without hesitation. “We shall!”

Out the door they swept, the gimlet eyes of the stout matron watching them through the window until they turned the corner. A bit longer to ensure that no one was following, and Celeste stopped, turning to face Naishe, pushing the sleeve up her arm, where the imprint of Luis’ fingers was still visible, though he evidently knew enough to not leave bruises. That was somehow more chilling.

“He do that often?” she wanted to know, making no attempt to conceal her anger now.
 

Isabela

Prominent member
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#19
Naishe had half-hoped that Celeste might have missed Luis’ warning, but the hard flash in the sharp green eyes told her she hadn’t. Discomfort and anger wriggled hotly in Naishe’s gut. As the tearaway she’d been before the fucking Qun came crashing into her mother’s life, she couldn’t imagine ever letting a man get away with putting a hand on her like that and not immediately cutting it off. Then again, she’d never imagined a man with ties to the Crows would take an interest in her, and if there was one thing she wasn’t doing, it was dying because of that waste of a mustache. That was her decision, although it didn’t make her feel any less weak for having to put up with it.

Once they were out of the estate, they walked a few streets before Celeste turned to face her. Naishe could have swatted her away, but that would only lead to further questions. She silently let Celeste draw her sleeve up, seeing that there were no bruises. Somehow that didn’t seem to calm the other woman. “He do that often?”

Naishe feigned nonchalance, shrugging her shoulders. “As often as I cause it. At the beginning, never. Then, as I started getting bored and finding ways to amuse myself, more often. Apparently it hurts his standing when I spike the afternoon tea.” She glanced back over her shoulder. No sign of any servants following them from the estate, although that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Her eyes were pretty sharp but she couldn’t watch every corner at once. “It’s only recently he’s started doing it as a warning.”

To her mind it wasn’t as bad as some of the subtle suggestions Luis had been making lately. Making his friends comfortable, attending to their every need, was something he pointedly requested of her fairly frequently now. She had yet to be put in a position where how far she’d follow that instruction would be tested, but it made her tense every time Luis announced they were to have visitors.

At least this time, this was her choice, and she had no doubt it’d be enjoyable. Naishe shook off the uneasy feeling that had followed her out of the estate and grinned slyly at Celeste. “However, there’s no punishment so long as he doesn’t catch me doing things he doesn’t approve of.”
 

Celeste Monroe

Shenaniginstigator In Chief
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#20
Naishe tried to brush aside Celeste’s concern with a careless shrug. “As often as I cause it,” she replied with studied insouciance. “At the beginning, never. Then, as I started getting bored and finding ways to amuse myself, more often. Apparently it hurts his standing when I spike the afternoon tea.”

Celeste snorted, but she didn’t miss the wary glance that the other woman directed in their wake. “It’s only recently he’s started doing it as a warning,” she concluded ruefully.

Celeste had a fair idea where it would go from there, but for now, she only said, “No one is following, don’t worry.” That she was certain of, but just in case, she had a roundabout route to the docks in mind.

The cocky smirk that Naishe offered her didn’t quite make it to those stunning eyes. “However, there’s no punishment so long as he doesn’t catch me doing things he doesn’t approve of.”

“Not getting caught is a specialty of mine,” Celeste promised with a grin, taking Naishe’s hand and tugging her toward one of the back streets that she remembered from her years of evading her father’s attempts at corralling her. The Rivaini woman’s dress was not suited to the best routes, but she still led her on a zigzag route, emerging in the market square and plunging into the milling crowd without hesitation. “I stole so much here that I found out later my father set up accounts with the merchants to cover it,” she told her companion, then wrinkled her nose. “That took the fun out of it.” Just for old times’ sake, she lifted a pretty carved jade bracelet from a display owned by a snooty Orlesian who didn’t seem to recognize her as Reginald Cantwell’s heathen daughter. Slipping the bracelet into a pocket, she led the way out of the market and set a more direct course to the docks.

“I always loved Antiva City,” she remarked as they made their way along the main thoroughfare, slowing her steps a bit to watch a juggler keep four gleaming knives spinning in the air. “The Marches are soooo stuffy. And grey.” From the brightly colored silks worn by nearly everyone in sight to the bright flowers that bloomed in beds all along the avenue to the bright feathers of the parrots that screamed in the trees overhead, nothing about Antiva could be described as grey. “And warm. Have you ever seen snow?” She gave a little shiver. “It’s fun for about five minutes, and then your tits are frozen. Give me sun and the sea any day.”

They reached the docks, the noise of the crowds behind them giving way to the familiar sounds of sailors and stevedores at work: shouts, cursing, and whistles; the creak of ropes through pulleys; the scrape of crates and barrels in cargo nets; the faint slap of waves against the hulls of docked ships, and the delightful discordance of half a dozen shanties being sung at once.

“There she is.” Celeste stopped and pointed to where the Wicked Grace bobbed gently at her berth, her graceful lines and gleaming fittings setting her apart from most of the other ships in port … to Celeste’s eyes, anyway.
 
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