Page 53 of The Silver Spider
Chapter 18
She woke hours later. Glancing at her arm, she found it clean and bandaged. She’d also been dressed in loose pajama trousers and shirt, her hair in a neat braid on one side of her shoulder.
Her mouth tasted like the inside of a dead, stuffed raccoon. So the first order of business was to take care of basic hygiene in the attached bathroom. Dress. And check her body for any other injuries she might have missed. A least Dawnthorne hadn’t lied about the drug being non-fatal, but then why would he? If he wanted her dead, he’d just try to kill her.
And she supposed she should eat something before she went to Amnan’s holding place again. What choice did she have? She could try and escape and seek help, but they might kill him without her there. He was being kept for leverage. If she escaped, it might be prudent to just get rid of the evidence, so to speak, to avoid an interspecies mishap. After all, it was her word—the word of a young woman working in a glorified brothel who’d run away from home—against Dawnthorne’s. Anissa was trying her best to be helpful, but she was no ally of Serephone’s.
Serephone made her way to the small dining room, hoping there was still food laid out. It was late, but not too late. The staff might not have cleared the sideboard yet. When she entered the dining room, a servant was removing a child sized plate with the remnants of a demolished meal. The man glanced at Serephone and nodded, gesturing towards a seat with a clean setting.
“Am I messing with your schedule?” she asked quietly.
“No, Lady. Lord Dawnthorne instructed us to leave food for when you desired it.”
He took the head of the family line stuff seriously enough, despite the sometimes murderous glares and casually menacing actions. She filled her plate with enough that she wouldn’t need seconds, so they could start to clear down anyway, and took a seat, eating as fast as she could without looking savage.
Anissa entered when Serephone was finishing. She glanced up, wondering if her elder sister’s only job now was to keep tabs on her.
“You’ve eaten? Lord Dawnthorne requests your presence.”
Serephone stood. “A little late.”
“Iona is in bed.”
The response was short, nearly curt, and Serephone knew Anissa was aware of her daughter’s role in the rescue excursion. She began to apologize, then stopped. Apologies were useless at best, insincere at worst. If she had to do it all over, she would still have needed Iona’s help. But she would think twice next time. There was no need to drag a child into this mess.
“Why did you come to Seattle?” Anissa asked. “You’ve stayed away your entire life. Our father hid your existence successfully. Why come here, and straight into Dawnthorne’s arms?”
“I’ll tell him if he asks.” The whole present situation had derailed her initial quest, but not entirely. If there was one thing Serephone was good at, it was patience. And cold revenge suited her nature, even if she had to wait a month, a year, to exact…justice.
She followed Anissa out of the dining room towards the airy white and blue study. She stepped inside, Anissa shutting the door behind, Serephone’s eyes going to the open patio doors. The sheer curtains billowed in a strong breeze, the scent of rain on in the air. No mean feat, since they were under a Dome. Whatever weather control magic existed mimicked the pre-War environment perfectly. Seattle had once been renowned for its rain. No more.
Beyond the doors, the deep of night plunged the grounds into darkness. There were tall, fragile-looking lampposts lining the driveway, flickering with whatever oil or magic powered them, but their pools of light were contained to within a few feet.
Turning her attention to Dawnthorne, who stood behind his desk, one hand resting on the surface as if he had all century to wait for her to acknowledge him, she said, “Haven’t changed my mind. Not your minion, and I have a family. A mother.”
“She and your sisters will be summoned soon.”
The tone of his voice had her stuffing an acerbic response back into her throat. Persia was hot-headed, not her. Her twin didn’t care if anyone knew if she was sad, mad, homicidal, happy, or anything. Serephone preferred to present a blank slate to the world. Let her enemies work to determine what she was feeling.
“If it’s my cooperation you want,” Serephone said, “you’re going about it in a sucky way.”
Anissa sighed. Dawnthorne smiled. “I have not yet exerted myself to obtain your cooperation. This matter is an annoyance at worst, and I am occupied with issues of more import, than a spoiled child, who doesn’t understand her place. I am lenient with you because you are ignorant—but lenience can only go so far, cousin. If I do not bring you to heel, then others may, and if the matter goes beyond my hands, you will not like it. I am the better of the options available to you.”
“Please listen to him, sister,” Anissa said. “Unbound fae are forbidden to live. Our laws are very strict. If you do not complete the binding, then you will be executed. And our sisters, and your mother. And the rest of us may be punished for not doing it sooner rather than later.”
She would have to find out why the fae were so adamant about policing their people, but that was a conversation for later. The why didn’t matter as much, presently.
“I’ve arranged for an incentive to encourage your cooperation,” Dawnthorne said, “as you so aptly point out my attempts so far have been weak.”
Her eyes narrowed. Reverse incentive was likely more accurate and her suspicions proved true when moments later four guards emerged from the blackness of the lawn, Amnan walking calmly between them.
She knew the moment he saw her, a flicker of fire in his eyes, the pupils morphing from human round to dragon slits in an instant. No other emotion showed on his face, beyond a calm unconcern. He was as good at masking as she was. But she hadn’t expected the resurgence of their bond. He was there, a shadow of his deep-seated anger a mirror of her own. Beneath it worry, and a wash of relief. He met her eyes as he and the escort stepped into the study.
“Sere,” he greeted. “I see you haven’t gone over to the dark side yet.”
She frowned, the words niggling in the back of her head, then shrugged it away, giving him a quick, thorough look. No blood, and his clothes were his own. His eyes and voice were clear of pain, his face uninjured. So whatever had happened, they hadn't tortured him. Something flickered and she shifted her vision, using her magic to see. The translucent rainbow bubble that encased him morphed according to his movements. It didn’t appear to restrict his ability to touch. She reached out a hand, passing through the barrier easily, resting briefly on his chest when he came close.
“What is this thing you have around him?” she demanded, staring at Dawnthorne.
