Page 52 of The Silver Spider
If Dawnthorne was the one behind the trafficking, then it stood to reason that whatever poison the men had used was supplied by their employer. An employer who used it himself.
“I see you will soon be indisposed,” Dawnthorne said.
“Damn you.”
“It isn’t fatal. Serephone.” He closed the distance between them, staring down into her face. “If you want your Amnan, I need an assurance he is no danger to my household.”
She started to speak, focusing to form the words. “I want my clothes.” She needed her creations, without them she had no more advantage than any other slightly-more-than-human woman.
He shook his head. “No. You must speak the binding oath. The first part is in your blood, but the second part, you must accept on your own volition.” His hand rose, hovering in her vision, palm outward. The glyph of his house appeared on his palm, a thin glowing line. “Take my hand. Pledge your fealty to me as your Lord. Then Amnan shall be returned to you.”
It seemed like a reasonable request. Her hand rose, but to press against her forehead. It was not a reasonable request. Her mind was compromised.
“No,” she said, and stepped back. She dug her fingers into the cut on her arm, gasping as the pain sent a jolt of clarity through her thoughts.
Dawnthorne’s hand lowered slowly, expression chill. He turned, speaking curtly to his guard, “Bring her. If she struggles, knock her unconscious.”
What a Prince. Forewarned, she didn’t fight when the fae wrapped a hand around her upper arm, tugging her along at a swift enough pace she spent the majority of her concentration on keeping on her feet, combating the drug.
“Antidote,” she said.
“Be silent,” the Lord said, ahead of them.
She was all but dragged across the grounds, through the house and up to her room. The guard released her when they were inside and stepped aside. Serephone’s knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor, on her hands and knees, grimly focused on staying awake. She had no Maddugh to help her. Feet under her line of vision a moment later.
“I should have you beaten like a rebellious child,” Dawnthorne said over her. “You will come to heel, or you will die. It is your choice—you will not be allowed to be free, a danger to my house.”
No one would ever imprison her. “Then kill me,” she said, hoarse.
“Lord,” a female voice said. “May I enter?”
Anissa. Her sister. Serephone hoped Iona wasn’t in trouble. The last thing she wanted was for her own niece to suffer because of her.
“Come.”
“Perhaps if she is given time,” Anissa said, voice soft. “This must all be very shocking discovering a new heritage, family. She couldn’t have been expecting this when she came—” Anissa paused. “When she sought us out.”
No one had ever asked why Serephone has sought Dawnthorne out. The brief silence warned her she would be asked that question, and likely soon.
“Her understanding, and cooperation, is now on your head,” Dawnthorne said. Serephone’s teeth ground, the soft threat in his voice enraging her. Was that all he was good for, bullying and threats? Who had put him in charge of anyone and why?
The feet were gone, the sound of a door shutting quietly, and slim hands wrapped around her biceps, pulling Serephone to her feet with surprising ease.
“Your mother wasn’t human?” she asked.
Anissa shook her head. “I didn’t know my mother. My parents’ coupling was arranged, for the purpose of my birth.”
“Thaas phugged up,” she slurred. Anissa’s arm wrapped around her waist, helping her to the bed.
“You’ll have to accept the oath,” her older sister said. “He won’t let you leave the grounds until you do. And, Serephone, if he has to use Amnan against you, he will.”
