Chapter 7
Chapter seven
James
Sudden motion in this damp dungeon they call bellows makes my stomach flip. The root vegetables and mist pheasant are swirling around in my stomach like water going down a drain. They must be sailing away from the headman’s cliffs, and I have no idea how long we have been docked here.
I don’t know the first thing about boats either, but the movement is proof they are sailing away, which to me must mean they are busy.
Too busy to come check up on me, and too busy to hear what I am doing.
Taking a deep breath, I finally open the clam necklace again.
The second the dulcet tones of Peter’s pan flute fill the belly of the boat, I feel better.
Like stepping into a warm bath, my muscles relax.
It feels incredible; a tingling sensation on the top of my head dulls the ache inside me.
Like brownies are walking over my body, spreading all the way to the tips of my toes.
The dreamy music makes my body grow heavier once again, until finally I let the exhaustion, the darkness, and Peter’s music pull me under.
“Wakey, Wakey, darling. It is time for breakfast and to see how you can make yourself useful.” A loud mocking voice I do not instantly recognize wakes me up.
Disorientated, I open my eyes, expecting what little sunlight we get to paint our bedroom in gold.
Instead, all that I see is darkness. My eyes need to get adjusted to the damp, pitch black darkness that is surrounding me, and when they do, they land on the most vainglorious man I’ve ever met.
The mere sight of him brings back the memories of the past twenty-four hours, and the fact that I have been kidnapped by my fiancé‘s mortal enemy.
Which sounds like a flimsy plot of the books mom would read back home.
My parents… it has been so long since I thought about them, and I have no idea why. We used to be so close. Somehow since following Peter to Silvermist, I sort of forget about them.
“Get up so you can have some breakfast,” Killian tells me, dumping a bundle of fabric onto my lap like it bothers him to even hand me something, but at least. he leaves a small copper lantern.
I can smell the oil that is used to drench the wick.
A smell that reminds me of something, but I don’t know what.
It brings up a memory dancing at the edge of my conscience.
For now, I ignore it, focusing on changing instead since the bundle of fabric has turned out to be a clean outfit.
Drab, boring, beige and brown—not the vibrant colors I wore at home, not the warm green I got used to wearing here.
Part of me recoils at the mere thought of wearing garments given to me by these pirates.
Wearing something that makes me look like one of them.
On the other hand, I can smell myself, which is worse.
My eyes land on the bucket with what looks like soapy water and a cloth hanging over the edge.
It is the last push I need to undress, wash myself up a bit, and get dressed in the outfit I have been given.
The sound of someone scuffling just outside my wooden cellar, tells me I am not really alone.
Someone is waiting for me outside these doors.
Suddenly, breakfast is no longer an option; it is an obligation.
Determined to keep my head up high, and spare whatever dignity I still have left, I walk outside, where I am greeted by the younger looking pirates who dragged me onboard yesterday.
“We’re having eggs for breakfast. They’re superb,” the one with the long wild curls and hazel eyes tells me, almost apologetic. The other one, who looks related to the first, gives me a half smile.
“I’m Dex. Belle is my sister. We’re supposed to take you to the mess,” he tells me like it’s the most logical thing in the realms. Unsure of what to say or do, I just follow them.
Blue light dances around what seems to be the dining hall inside a boat.
Chandeliers filled with candles that aren’t burning now hang from the ceiling.
They are not shiny and rich, decorated with jewels like the chandeliers back in the castle.
They are simple and sturdy-looking, made of iron and wood.
More practical than the royal chandeliers of Silvermist Castle would be.
But they are hanging from a ceiling, and I had to climb a ladder to get here.
Meaning there are at least three decks on this boat.
The light gives me the chance to look around and see what is happening around me.
The first thing I notice is the sheer size: the size of this room, the size of the crew.
Earlier, my mind had somehow come to the conclusion that Captain Hook brought half of his crew with him to do whatever it was he was doing in Silvermist forest. Turns out he didn’t even bring a quarter of his actual crew.
As I lower myself into my chair, my heart lowers with me, sinking to my leather shoe clad feet.
A crew this big will be so much harder to defeat than a crew consisting of roughly twelve people.
“Good morning, Darling, we’re so glad you decided to join us. After shedding yourself of Peter’s colors.” Killian smirks.
“Fuck you,” I snarl back, eyes trained on his lips, especially his plump bottom lip, almost pouty, swollen with the deep cut where his teeth sunk into the soft flesh when I kicked him in the face yesterday. It had been the highlight of my day.
“Our firecracker doesn’t know how to play nice, Samuel.
How do we feel about that?” Captain Pestilence tells the bald man that was there yesterday.
He seems to be of importance, I tell myself, cataloging every vital piece of information, hoping that I can somehow leverage it to aid Peter when he gets here to rescue me.
“I feel like that’s disrespectful, and disrespect doesn’t belong on a pirate ship,” Samuel answers, causing me to scoff loudly.
“There is nothing that belongs on a pirate ship more than disrespect,” I murmur under my breath, but those pointed ears clearly catch everything, which is apparent in his reaction.
The swoosh of his ornate brown coat, reaching all the way to his calves, alerts me to the fact that Captain Pestilence has all but jumped up from his chair and is now striding towards me like a man on a mission.
“You will learn just how important respect is here. Surely, you are used to giving respect to people who don’t deserve it,” he growls.
The sound rumbles so hard in his chest that I can feel it rattle through his hook that is now piercing the cotton of my tunic.
“As such you can pretend to respect me and my crew,” he continues, voice still low and rough, dripping down my spine like ice water and causing me to shiver.
Not so much because I find him intimidating.
But because of the pure unadulterated hatred I see in his now nearly black eyes.
Yesterday, they seemed more of a dark gray, like storm clouds about to ruin your day. I can’t help but wonder why he hates Peter so much. Or Peter’s family, because according to Peter, he didn’t even know this pirate.
Thoughts that have no use now, thoughts that should not be uttered when I am surrounded by the enemy.
“Why the hell do you even hate the fauns, and Peter so much? You’re just a vile greedy pointy-eared racist bastard!” The question slips out before I can stop myself.
The scent of iron mixes with the salty air, as the hook that was only piercing my tunic now pierces my skin.
It’s the only answer I get. Killian doesn’t speak; he just drags me back to my dungeon, like I am a wild animal that needs to be caged before it lashes out again.
I suppose the truth hurts. But all the goat remarks have been getting to me.
It’s the same as back home, where people feel this vile need to comment on irrelevant stuff, like gender, status, and sexuality.
And it pisses me off. Among the fauns in Silvermist, I never heard remarks like it.
That had been a blessing. But now I have ended up being kidnapped by a bunch of pirates who constantly call people goats just to be derogatory, and it is maddening.
A blunt pain courses through me as my still-scraped knees hit the wooden floor with a thud.
“It is a damn shame I need you to get your beloved goat. If not, I would have made you walk the plank with lead shoes on hours ago…” With those words, the door to the deck dungeon below me slams shut, leaving me in the dark.
The humid cellar and the constant creaking of the wood are my only company.
This time, I will make sure not to fall asleep.
I will let my eyes get adjusted to the darkness.
There needs to be something here that I can use.
When in the dining room, all I could see through the windows was blue waves.
We must be out on the open sea, making my chances of escaping nonexistent.
Even I am not naive enough to think I will be able to escape on my own.
Nor do I think that I can defeat the entire pirate crew.
However, I read enough about pirates, back home in books that were supposed to just be stories, fairytales meant to entertain me and my brothers.
I know about mutiny. All I need to do is kill Killian Tregear, and I will become the new captain.
And as the new captain, I will simply order the crew to sail me home, or as close to home as they can get me.
The ones who have treated me as well as pirates can, will be free, as long as they stop bothering me and Peter.
The ones who stay loyal to Hook even after I take over control will be locked up to rot away in the dungeons of Silvermist. I was never a violent person, but sometimes, you need to fight fire with fire.
Time passes by in a blur of swaying around the bellows, not finding anything useful.
My eyes are completely adjusted to the darkness.
All I had found was a coarse wool blanket that would have been useful last night.
This is what they do though. They act like they are kind, see themselves as being on a moral high ground compared to Peter and me.
By feeding me from the food I found them.
By giving me a blanket to sleep under without pointing out how coarse said blanket is.
Rhythmic thumps and the distinct creaking of floors signal that someone is coming to bully me again. Locked away from light and sounds other than the waves crashing against the walls of my cellar, I have no idea how long it has been since I was thrown in here again.
My stomach has been grumbling since the second the door closed when Killian left. My legs now feel like they are made of ropes fraying at the edges instead of muscle and bone. No doubt caused by the combination of hunger and the constant swaying I am not used to.
If they are coming to drag me up the mess again, I will need to bite my tongue in order just to eat something. I refuse to die of hunger because I once again was unable to keep my mouth shut.
My eyes squeeze shut involuntarily as the door opens, letting in some light.
Even the little sliver of it now burns my corneas.
My eyes, having over-adjusted to the darkness, does not get enough time to get accustomed to light again.
I want to lash out, mock whoever is opening the door for finally coming to get me.
A sharp stab in my stomach stops me from doing so.
Pangs of hunger, turned to pain, remind me of the two missed meals.
And the risk of missing a third one if I speak up again.
“Captain wants to see you again,” a new, unfamiliar voice tells me. When I finally manage to open my eyes, the person I see through my tears is not familiar.
“Damn, how many of you are there on this blasted boat,” I grumble, hoping to tempt this pirate into telling me how big the crew actually is. To get more information. I can store this away for when Peter comes to get me..
“Enough for you to never get out of here in one piece if you’re foolish enough to try,” the unknown pirate says.
To their credit, they do not try to drag me with them, not now that I am just following them on shaky legs.
“And enough to make sure Peter will never hurt us anymore when he comes to collect his mate.” Yet again, the word mate is uttered with so much disdain that it makes my skin crawl.
“I take it pirates don’t have fated mates?
” I say, still eager to get this pirate to talk.
To get them to give me more information that I can use.
There is no way I am letting them kill Peter.
Especially not when they are using my naivety and carelessness of falling asleep in the Silvermist forest as the leverage to get to him.
“What is this, an interview? Or did you just get lonely down there without a goat rambling about how great he is?” The pirate scoffs before ignoring me completely.