Page 37 of The Silver Spider
Chapter Twelve
Serephone slippedout the back door ten minutes before the end of her shift. If Amnan showed up on her heels, she’d release her spiders and teach him to haunt her steps, when she needed space to think.
When the scuff of a footstep sounded behind her, she turned, a snarl on her lips. “Come out, you fire-breathing lizard,” she said. “I’ll make certain you know better than to—”
The magic struck her in the back, an invisible snare of gossamer strands, nearby lamps flickering and going dead. She had the fleeting thought that the lamplighters would be irate, having to come back through with their oil and relight the wicks instead of going home for supper.
And then common sense reasserted itself, adrenaline wrenching the mundane thoughts from her mind as her own magic flared to life. But Dawnthorne was right, she wasn’t trained. She was self-taught, and in secret. Not even her mother knew the full extent of her strength. Kai had enough to worry about. As she struggled, the strands wrapped even tighter around her, imprisoning limbs and finally cutting off her magic. She stilled, learning that fighting the quicksand style entrapment only tightened the containment. So, she waited.
And was punished for her patience when her vision went black.
* * *
She inhaled, waking abruptly, polished leather under her nostrils, body swaying from the bumpy locomotion of a wheeled conveyance on cobblestone. The gait of the conveyance changed, smoothing, the rattle of wheels softening. She realized where her abductor must be taking her. There was only one street in the Dome that looked as if one could glide soundlessly across.
The fae demesne.
She tested her bonds, once, and settled back down when the magic reacted by viciously squeezing her throat. A warning to lie there, be still. Anger boiled her blood, temper she kept hidden from the world with a cool, stoic calmness. Because if she let it out, she would let out the monster. She felt like letting out the monster.
The spell slid from her limbs as the conveyance slowed, then halted. Serephone sat up, relaxing her jaw and promising herself that she would get to hunt, soon. The door opened and the dark fae guard stood and she knew her guess of where she’d been taken was correct.
“I’ve been invited by Lord Dawnthorne to dine?” she asked.
Yuruth didn’t smile, but she saw the flicker of his lashes in response to her icy sarcasm. “Our Lord asked me to convey his hope you will accept the hospitality of his home, and he will attend you shortly.”
Serephone exited, running through all the reasons attacking him would be a bad idea. She’d never tested her strength against fae, and there was nothing to indicate her life was in immediate danger. But every moment she spent with her whereabouts unknown, was another moment further away from escape.
“I would not try to escape,” the guard said. “There are safeguards in place to prevent it, and the consequences would be debilitating.”
She smiled, thoughts of the mansion burning down around Dawnthorne’s ears entertaining her.
“I believe I will accept,” she said, and walked past him to the wide, silvery, front double doors.
* * *
The house was silent. In the large, open entryway, a skylight revealed the evening stars beyond the shimmer of the Dome. White and black floors gleamed under the crystal glow of a chandelier sparkling with hundreds of tiny lights. A black staircase wound on either side of the room and two levels of open hallway were protected by intricately carved railings, the symbols both strange and familiar.
Yuruth passed her, walking towards a far door, gray wood with curling trim and a silver knob. She followed, stood silently as he knocked once on the door and it opened without him touching the knob. He indicated she should precede him, and stepped aside.
The room was another sea of white walls, a set of glass doors from floor to ceiling draped in sheer fabric at one end. On the other end, a glass and gray wood desk, white shelves with blue-painted trees behind it, each shelf laden with a rich man’s ransom in real, hardcover and paperback books.
Dawnthorne sat behind the desk, a stack of notebooks bound in leather and an ink pot next to him. He sat his pen on a stand, glancing over and lifting a hand to beckon her forward.
Serephone approached, but said nothing. After a moment he smiled, lacing his fingers, resting elbows on the desk. He was dressed informally, a loose blue robe and pants, maybe the fae version of pajamas, hair flowing around his shoulders. He was beautiful, masculine against the backdrop of an otherwise prissy room.
“Serephone,” he said. “I’m pleased you accepted my hospitality.”
“Missed the part where I was cordially invited.”
His smiled curved on one side, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m afraid the theatrics were necessary to expedite your arrival. Please, sit.”
It didn’t sound like a request. She didn’t like orders, but she was practical, if nothing else. She sat.
“This situation presents a difficulty for me, you understand,” Dawnthorne said. “There are laws I must abide by. One of them is that as head of my Line, I must account for the whereabouts and actions of all members of my family.”
“Exactly how are we related?”
“Ah. We’ll get to that.” He opened the notebook in front of him and withdrew a piece of paper, laying the paper on the desk. “Every one of my Line is bound to certain rules of conduct, and those with any sign of power are trained. We leave none to the mercy of the world, and vice versa. That you have existed under my nose is a minor embarrassment, I confess.”
