Page 63 of The Silver Spider
“Aethan, is this the newly discovered spawn I hear rumors of?” the man asked in a deep, smooth baritone.
It took her a moment to realize Aethan was Dawnthorne.
“It is. She is not yet properly trained. We keep her in her room as much as possible.”
Serephone picked up a plate, not taking offense to being spoken of like she was an ill-mannered puppy. What did she care what they thought about her? As soon as she was able to devise a way to get out of here, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
“She is not blood bound, Aethan.”
“She is not.”
“Why?”
She could imagine, if she were Dawnthorne, that being spoken to in that tone of voice—in one’s own house—would piss him off. But his tone was expressionless.
“The affairs of my line are none of yours.”
“They are mine inasmuch as our Lord tasks me with the duty of ensuring the recent reports of noncompliance aren’t unfounded.”
“Do not threaten me.”
“I made no threat.”
The amusement in the other man’s tone set her teeth on edge. She chose a helping of several small dishes for each plate, topped it off with rolls, and decided to get the hell out.
“Have her come over, Aethan. I would like to see her.”
Anissa stilled, breath catching. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “They weren’t here earlier or I would have had you avoid the dining room.”
“Serephone.” Dawnthorne’s icy tone was a command.
She glanced at Anissa, who took the plates. Serephone turned and approached the two men, pausing at a polite distance, face expressionless.
“Lord Dawnthorne.”
“Lord Evervaine wishes to make your acquaintance.”
She glanced at Evervaine, careful not to meet his eyes. Light brown hair with a sheen of shimmery ash just touched his shoulders. The ash tone held true for his skin, just a touch to make her wonder if he had gargoyle blood in him. Grey eyes shot through with blue stared at her, though she refused to meet them. His was an autocratic face, the bones fine and narrow. Next to Dawnthorne he looked, if not old, because no fae looked old, then cold. Severe. Next to a man, who looked as if he breathed ice vapors, Aethan seemed nearly warm.
It didn’t make her like him any more, but she now had a larger perspective.
“She does not speak, Aethan?”
“It would be foolish to expect her to understand the manners of our kind.”
“Ah, of course, of course. Come, girl, greet me properly.”
She still refused to look at him. “I’d rather not greet you at all. One fae Lord is too many fae Lords to deal with at a time.”
His storm cloud eyes widened, just a touch. “You really are savage, aren’t you?”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one with no manners.” She glanced at Dawnthorne, and nearly frowned. She’d thought he would be angry with her blunt speech, but beneath the neutral expression she thought she saw a flash of amusement.
“Have you discovered her skill yet?” Evervaine said, addressing Dawnthorne. He didn’t sound pleased. “If she has one.”
“We have a suspicion, but it would take some effort to draw it out.”
“Then put her through her paces.” Evervaine lifted a hand and Serephone tensed.
