Page 39 of The Silver Spider
Chapter Thirteen
He flewtowards the fae demesne, a warning brush of defensive magic touching his wings. He wasn't entirely stupid, though. There were city codes regulating the use of magic to ward neighborhoods, and the fae were currently tested as in compliance. That meant little, of course, because they had their ways of hiding and lying like everything else, but he would hope their shields contained no nasty surprises that could get him immediately incinerated. He drew his own magic around him like a second skin, snapped his wings closed, and dove.
If Dawnthorne had taken Serephone—and there was no doubt in Amnan's mind the fae had—then there would be orders at the entry way to bar Amnan from entering, as a matter of course. So, the only way in was through stealth or force. He had no time for stealth.
Force would do. And it was more satisfying.
He opened his maw, chest expanding, and roared. The flames streamed towards the magic. This high up there would be weak spots because no matter how powerful they were, fae were land-leggers like every other ground born creature on this planet. They didn’t have the wings to ensure their shields extended, full strength, this high in the air.
The rounded shield was revealed under the combined physical and magical heat of his flame. Alarms blared immediately, and streaks of magic flew at him, a barrage of tiny glowing missiles that must have been an automatic defense system. He grinned, ready for the fun to begin.
The missiles were fast; they clipped him several times. Flying, concentrating on burning a hole through the barrier, and maintaining his shields all at once wasn't easy, or simple. It required a degree of strength and concentration that he hadn’t been required to wield in centuries. Not since the dragon Dwyrkin had finally stopped warring and decided to make the best of their entrapment on this cattle ranch of a planet. A cattle ranch where they couldn’t even eat the tastiest morsels available, because they complained.
The Fae shield gave way and Amnan wheeled, diving through before the fighters on the ground could patch it up again. He was lucky; they hadn’t built it to withstand dragon attack, which meant everyone in this city was getting fat and lazy from the relative peace. He bet they would never again let it weaken enough to grant a dragon access.
His father would have some work to do cleaning up relations with the local clan. But that concern was for later. No dragon would fault him going after a woman, who may be his mate, and was, technically, his family anyway.
He went low, flying through the tree lined blocks until moments later he was in front of Dawnthorne’s gate. Amnan landed, considered the guards, who stared at him, magic crawling up their arms, and leaped over, half flapping his wings to land with a powerful thud on the grassy lawn. He whirled around, taking care with his tail because he did not want to kill anyone—not yet. He’d try diplomacy first.
The guards withdrew blades, running towards him, hair streaming. Maybe diplomacy would have to wait. He inhaled, and shot fire over their heads, a warning roar. For some reason they did not stop running, but he realized he was fine with that.
* * *
"We'll havenone of that, Serephone," Dawnthorne said.
An invisible hand slapped her full in the face, the shock of the blow halting her magic even as a spell once again wrapped around her limbs, imprisoning her.
"It's an impressive skill, one I intend you develop to its fullest, but we have strict laws against patricide—no matter how well deserved."
Her father said nothing, simply watched, arms at his sides. There was nothing in his face, no love, no regret. She remembered his charm, the warmth of him when he played with her and her sisters. He'd always been cheerful, though closer to the end, the relationship between her parents had cooled. The shouted arguments over things she hadn't quite understood then, but did now.
"I hope my mother kills you," she said.
Etienne shrugged. "I'm sure she'd try. I wasn’t well suited as a husband."
She refused to say anything else. She'd be damned if she'd play the 'why did you leave us' game. She turned her head away, the only part of her body she could move, and looked at Dawnthorne.
"Release me," she said, voice cold. "You have no right-"
"He has every right," Etienne said. "He is head of our line. And you, stupid child, came to the one place you never should have."
"He was not given leave to wed and have children," Dawnthorne said.
He glanced at Etienne, expression mild, but a chill ran up Serephone's spine. There was…something…in that glance that told her Etienne would be punished for that bit of deception.
"I didn’t think there was enough blood in them to matter," Etienne said. "Or I certainly would have brought them to your attention,Rabd. Their mother has a drop, no more."
"I’ve used your youth as an excuse before for your thinking, but I’ll no longer do so,” Dawnthorne said. "You may go."
Etienne left without even another glance at Serephone. There was nothing but ashes inside her. The ashes of anger, of love, of pain.
"I don’t believe that man is my father."
There was no mercy in Dawnthorne’s eyes. "He is. There is no doubt. And if you prove to be a credit to our Line, perhaps I will mitigate his punishment. You have siblings?"
She froze, mind scrambling for a way to deter this line of questioning. And then a dragon roared.
* * *
