Page 64 of The Silver Spider
“You will not,” Dawnthorne said, voice icy.
“You presume to tell me what I may not do?”
“You are in my home. And I rule here, Queen’s Eye.”
He lowered his hand, slowly, inclining his head. “I forget myself. It happens when I find myself in the company of young ones.”
She didn’t think Dawnthorne was all that young, but it was another bit of information to file away for later.
“But she must be tested to see if she truly is worthy to take an oath. If so, we will have discovered what talents may be turned to the benefit of our kind. If she is useless, we may kill her and have one less spawn to trouble us.”
She’d been no trouble the entire two decades plus of her life, before they even knew she existed. But she kept the words between her teeth. It was a good thing it wasn’t Persia here. Her sister wouldn’t have been able to help but respond, her temper flaring often, and hot.
Dawnthorne's fingers tapped the table. “I find myself curious how she would fare against some of my household. And she has annoyed me of late, so perhaps a small trial of combat would be amusing. What say you, Serephone? Should we put you through your paces?”
“Lord Dawnthorne will do what he feels he must,” she replied, matching his cold, slightly insolent tone.
He smiled. “Indeed. Go, child, eat. And rest. I believe we will begin tomorrow afternoon. Anissa will instruct you.”
* * *
Amnan stared at her, eyes hard. “Tell me again exactly what you said.”
“I resent the implication this is my fault.”
“You tend not to think about your words, when someone has offended you.”
Her brows rose. “Are you confusing me with Persia?”
“No.”
Anissa sighed, crossing the room to look out the window. “It wasn’t her fault. Evervaine’s existence is justified only by how aggravating he makes himself to those the Queen’s attention falls on.”
Serephone turned her back to him and spoke to Anissa. “Can you get me my clothing?”
Her sister snorted. “You mean your little arachnid automatons. Your thaumaturgy was not unnoted; your weapons will be returned to you if Dawnthorne determines you will not attempt to use them against him again.”
“Scared of me, huh?”
Anissa turned, studied her sister. “He is not foolish.” A thin smile curved her lips. “But, perhaps, if I put it in those terms he will be more inclined to prove himself unafraid. You are entitled to weapons at the tournament, after all.”
“Tell us about the tournament,” Amnan said. He approached Serephone, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her roughly against his chest. She stiffened, then relaxed after a moment. His hold was loose enough, and she sensed his edgy unease.
“The household warriors will gather, and some of the ones in training, who have yet to blood themselves.”
“How many?” Serephone asked.
“Twenty perhaps. We keep a smaller household. Larger numbers are more difficult to control. There will be rounds. Dawnthorne will not let you fight in the beginning rounds with the children—it will be seen as an insult.”
“Please don’t mind my feelings. Considering those so-called children have formal training I do not.”
Anissa paused. “I can teach you a few tricks. After you join the round, you will fight your way up until your blood is spilled. Once that happens, you are out.”
She relaxed. “That’s not a big deal.”
“Forgive me, I misspoke. For the others, the only requirement for disqualification is spilled blood.”
Amnan tensed, a growl in his voice. “What the hell does that mean?”
