Page 41 of The Silver Spider
Chapter Fourteen
She didn’t fullylose consciousness, but the cool stone floor against her cheek was all her senses allowed her. A deep, dark cocoon enclosed her in the single sensation. She clung to the tendril of consciousness, dimly shocked at how vicious her attack had been. She hadn’t meant to do that to herself—recalled her mother mentioning how angry Maddugh had been when Kai carelessly used her magic weeks ago. Dawnthorne was right, she needed training. She couldn’t react emotionally because the thought of Amnan being hurt, imprisoned or killed, especially because of her, had caused a sudden, shocking protectiveness. If anyone hurt him, it would be her.
After a time, she did fade, fully exhausted. But even in her unconsciousness she was somewhat aware; at least aware enough to know she was still alive. And sometime later, when the blackness faded and she could open her eyes, she looked up at a pale ceiling, and moved her pounding head cautiously. Bed curtains, and fading light through a window. More plain, white walls. The fae must hate color, or maybe they were jealous of inanimate things that were prettier than them. A thin chill on her wrist grabbed her attention. She glanced down, saw a plain bracelet, and tried to push it off. It wouldn’t budge, as if fused to her skin.
"You're awake," a female voice said.
Anissa came into view, and Serephone remembered part of the reason she'd so violently, foolishly attacked Dawnthorne; shock over the revelation of a sister. Her sisters meant everything to her. They were hers to torment, hers to protect. She would kill for them, die for them. And she had another one she'd never even met. Damn her father.
“What is this?” she demanded, holding up her wrist.
“A containment. You will be unable to attempt to leave the grounds while it is on. Once you swear our oath, Dawnthorne will remove it.”
“I’m not swearing any oath. You are all insane.”
"That was foolish, what you did," Anissa said, staring down at Serephone. She sat on the edge of the bed, placing a cool hand over Serephone's forehead.
"How old are you?" Serephone asked, voice a croak.
Anissa frowned. "Older than you."
She stared, stunned. Even worse. She had an older sister. "Was Etienne married when he met my mother?"
"No. I was already an adult when he wed Kailigh."
"You're fae."
Anissa laughed. "Of course. Lord Dawnthorne is currently investigating your mother's heritage as well." Her lips pursed. "We've been lax over the last several decades because the penalties for cross breeding in the past were severe enough that the practice died down…but evidently not. Father should really know better.”
Serephone struggled to sit. Anissa placed an arm around her back, helping her. It was a strange thing. A sister was automatically a trusted person, someone to love, to protect. But she didn’t know this woman. This woman with Cinvarra's face, or at least the impression of Cinvarra's face. She missed Cinvarra, and Persia, fiercely. Especially her twin, though she'd pushed thoughts of her sisters to the back of her mind to concentrate on her hunt.
"I don’t want him anywhere near my family," Serephone said.
"He is your family. The head of your family. And it's too late for that, anyway. You made a mistake I hope you never make again, Serephone. You gained the full attention of a fae Lord."
"Where is he?"
Anissa didn’t answer, glancing over as the bedroom door opened. Etienne walked in with a little girl at his side, her blue-green eyes wide and sparkling with an internal glee.
"This is the auntie, who smacked Thorny?"
Anissa sighed. "You can't call him that, Iona. No dessert this evening."
The child shrugged, moving forward. Her dark hair was in a neat braid down her back and she wore an ankle length nightgown—white with a trim of thin blue ribbons at the neck and wrist. The lines of her narrow chin and high cheekbones proclaimed fae heritage—even if the slanted eyes weren't a giveaway.
"I'm Iona," she said to Serephone. "You're my auntie."
She'd heard the first time. And was sitting against the bed frame, internally reeling. A father, an older sister, and now a…niece? Her sisters would have a fit.
"Hello, Iona. How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen," she said proudly. "And I'm in the second grade. We started learning cursive today. Human cursive," she added.
"That’s…second grade?" What?
Anissa must have seen the confusion on her face. "We age differently. It's a testament to the amount of human in your veins that you are considered an adult so young. We know you can't be more than twenty-four." She glanced at Etienne, who’d said nothing up until then.
Her alleged father moved closer to the bed. "That was a foolish thing you did, attacking Dawnthorne. He will retaliate."
