Page 42 of The Silver Spider
“Not dead? Too bad."
Anissa sighed. "Serephone, I understand this is all new to you—and even restrictive—but you must learn to show respect. He could squash you like a bug for offending him."
"But he won’t bother," Etienne said. "He'll squash what you love first."
She wasn’t really in the mood to talk to any of them. "Can you all leave? I want to get dressed." Someone had stripped her down to her underwear, which was unsettling.
Anissa nodded, herding Iona off the bed. "We had orders to search and confiscate your clothing, I'm sorry. There are dresses in the closet. I'll return in an hour with a meal. Please stay here for now. Out of sight."
"Thorny has a temper," Iona said in a sing-song voice. "I tried to prank him once and he was maaaaaadddd."
"He gave you a chocolate bar," Etienne said.
"It was really spicy."
"You shouldn’t have tried to prank him."
"He's mean."
"You're a brat."
She waited until they left. "Where is Amnan?"
Anissa sighed, hand on threshold. "He's not in the main house. I wouldn’t try and find him, if I were you. Dawnthorne will bring him to you on his own time. If you try to force his hand it will only annoy him."
She swung out of bed, expression tight. “Where are my clothes?”
Anissa paused before leaving, brow raised. “I’m sure they’ll be returned to you…after you take the oath.”
Serephone closed her eyes as the door closed, stifling a grim curse, the sound of her father bickering with her niece in her ears. She stood, head protesting for a moment, and waited until the pounding cleared to a low throb before crossing the room. She paused in the center, looking around. White walls, bare of decoration. A stuffed chair in the corner with a side table big enough for a meal. When she went to the window and looked out, the expanse of lawn and the tall iron gates beyond proved she was at least two stories up. The window didn’t open.
The one door in the room led to a walk-in closet, and beyond that a small, but functional, bathroom. She assumed there would be plumbing in this kind of home, especially being multi-level. She couldn’t imagine immortals tolerating water closet-styled bathrooms to do their business in.
She chose the least evil looking dress—plain, long, a dark blue—and ignored the selection of corsets and underthings. She didn’t need any restrictions on her movement. After dressing she sat, and assessed her situation.
Dawnthorne knew about her little darlings. But unless he had them in a sealed iron lock box or under a magic shield, they would return to her. She would assume, however, that he was neither stupid nor careless. Which meant she would have to get them back on her own. Anissa had said to stay put. But staying put wasn't really her style.
* * *
Serephone wasa bit surprised to find there were no guards on her door. She'd attacked the Lord of the house, but perhaps her attack had been more in the nature of an annoying insult and not an actual danger. Which was good and bad. If he underestimated her, she'd have more freedom to move about while she figured how to get her and Amnan out of here. Which was another problem. Where the hell was Amnan? He wasn't dead—wouldn’t she know? He’d said the tracking would work both ways, but it wasn’t a spell she was familiar with.
At the end of the hallway was a set of stairs. She descended, seeing the white walls and fancy checked floors from the grand entrance. Dawnthorne's study would be near, and that was the most logical place he'd keep her things. Weapons first, Amnan second. Could it really be as simple as just walking into the study, though? She didn’t see guards, or staff, and she heard no one. Of course, she had no idea how many people lived here and what their schedules were like. It was the dead of night, so presumably everyone was asleep in their beds.
"Serephone."
She halted just as her feet cleared the last step, and turned. Anissa stood across the wide foyer, a tray in her hand and a disapproving expression on her face. "Since you're up and about, I suppose you can have dinner in the small dining room. Follow me."
And she supposed they would both pretend she'd just been out of her room for a stroll, and to find a hot meal. And not for a bit of breaking and entering.
The small dining room held a twelve-seat table made of Blackwood, and heavy curtains on the tall windows. More white walls, these adorned with watercolor canvases of pleasant ocean scenes…nothing recent, of course. The skies and water were clear and the sands white.
She took a seat as Anissa uncovered the tray and set out dishes. "I'm going to join you, if you don't mind. I just put Iona back to bed, but I haven’t eaten tonight."
Serephone said nothing, but murmured a thank you when her sister was done. A plate of chicken and vegetables with a fluffy grain and a smaller plate with two rolls and a pat of butter.
"There's dessert," Anissa said. "I’m assuming you have the appetite of any of fae-"
Serephone glanced at her, curiosity piqued. "Fae have a particular appetite?" She and her sisters ate like horses, and never seemed to gain much weight. Her mother had remarked on it, quite sourly, over the years.
