Page 73 of The Silver Spider
Chapter 24
Even the torchescouldn’t cast enough light for non-human eyes to see by when the next round began. Serephone shifted her vision, accessing the bit of her magic that allowed her to see sharper, farther, in the dark. And locked her jaw, because she’d only ever tried to use her vision for a few minutes at a time.
But the headache was worth being able to actually see. The three fae who stepped into the circle were armed, and ruthless. Stripped down to nothing but black leggings, hair streaming, chests and arms corded with the muscle of men, who trained for a living. Who trained before breathing. One toyed with a blade, twirling it so fast in his fingers she couldn’t quite keep up with the speed. It became a flash of silver in the firelight. He stared at her, expression pitiless.
The second carried a staff. No blade, just a long, polished rod of gray wood. His short hair fell in his eyes, eyes that gleamed at her, wolf-pale. The lack of a blade attached to the stick warned her. The most deadly of foes were the ones, who needed nothing but their bare hands to kill.
The third had his golden hair pulled back in a que, twin swords strapped to his back. He stood without fidgeting, arms at his sides, looking at nothing, as if he were simply waiting for the signal to begin. Or meditating.
Amnan stood at Serephone’s right, Anissa at her left. Amnan carried nothing, simply watched with the cool calculation of an immortal who’d seen many fights. Anissa caressed her staff, glancing over at her daughter on the edge of the circle several times.
Serephone’s only weapon were the blades she’d had on her body when she first come to the estate. A check of her spiders before leaving her bedroom revealed they were predictably low on energy stores, their poison spent. She didn’t have the supplies she needed to inject their small bodies again, and even though her magic could keep them animated, without the poison they were little more than an annoyance at worst, distraction at best. She was on her own.
The purple-robed officiant approached the center of the circle, hands inside his wide, silken sleeves. “This is the last round. If she survives, she will again be offered the oath.”
From his tone of voice, Serephone gathered it would be the last time she was offered such glorious servitude, and the refusal wouldn’t mean she’d get to go merrily on her way. Plus now she had her mother to think of. And she would be foolish to think Dawnthorne didn’t know about her sisters. If she didn’t take the oath, he could contrive to take one, or both, of them. If she took it…would he be satisfied with just her? A coin in the pocket was always worth more than four in the neighbor’s.
The officiant stepped away and Serephone tensed, awaiting the signal. She was tired, but adrenaline spiked her blood, bringing with it the illusion of vigor. On the edge of the circle, Maddugh spoke quietly to Kailigh, his own anger contained by the task of preventing his wife from entering the fray. But when her stepfather looked up and met her eyes, she knew he was holding onto his dragon by a bare thread.
The officiant cleared the circle and the battle began.
They were trying to kill her. Anissa intercepted the fae with the staff, while Amnan smoothly deflected the yellow-haired male, swords drawn from their sheaths in a bright burst of light. Serephone had no time to waste observing what the others did, her opponent was on her in a breath, a blade flashing towards her throat like a stream of light. She did the smartest thing she knew, and ducked, rolling to the side and gaining her feet to intercept another blow. There was no space to breathe, silence except for the soft pounding of feet in sand and the thuds of blows, the bright clang of metal. She yanked the shadows around her and darted to the side, cloaked in darkness for the precious few seconds she needed to get her feet under her. It didn’t fool her enemy for long, but long enough she was able to arm herself.
The bond with Amnan opened, a flood of knowledge filling her mind. Along with the understanding that it would soon burn out; she had to take advantage of this tiny ray of hope now.
She engaged the fae, muscles flowing through new movements as if she’d spent years on a training field. It was enough to mount an offense, and then Amnan was at her side. She didn’t bother to check for his former opponent; Amnan would not be here now, if the twin swords had not been defeated.
An inhalation from the crowd and a feminine grunt. Serephone grit her teeth, hoping Anissa was unharmed. The impression of pale blond hair in the corner of her eye and then Serephone focused on her own battle, falling into tandem with Amnan. They fought the fae backwards toward the circle’s edge; to push him out would be an automatic loss the same as if blood was drawn. Her bond with Amnan was fading, and with it the edge she needed tostay alive.The fight wasn’t about how well Amnan could defend her, but how well she could defend herself. Only this opponent didn’t seem inclined to give her a token win.
Amnan grabbed her, throwing Serephone out of the way of a blow she hadn’t seen coming, too distracted from desperately trying to think up a strategy. Thinking, and fights: bad combo. She ate sand, heard Amnan’s deep-chested rumble and knew he was on the verge of attempting a shift; Dawnthorne hadsaidhe’d dissolved the bubble thingy, but fae lied all the time.
“A shift is against the rules of the melee,” she heard an unfamiliar male voice say.
“Then forfeit,” Amnan growled.
Serephone rose, spitting out sand. Even that brief second of rest hammered home her exhaustion. She didn’t know if she could last much longer; as good as her shape was, she wasn’t conditioned to prolonged battle. She was, at heart, a farm girl.
Anissa stepped to Serephone’s side. “Forfeit, Bacchus,” she demanded. “There’s no point to a prolonged duel. She’s proven herself.”
Bacchus—what a name—gave Serephone a contemptuous look. “She is barely on her feet.”
“She’s been fightingall day,” Anissa exclaimed. “If you won’t forfeit, her allies are allowed to fight on her behalf.”
Anissa’s staff whistled through the air without more conversation, and Amnan leaped simultaneously. Serephone ran forward, pushing her legs. At least she still had her blade and hadn’t completely embarrassed herself. The three attacked mostly in tandem, but Bacchus was no prey. His burst of speed proved he’d been holding back.
Anissa cried out, stumbling, and fell to her knees. Serephone saw the blood, hesitated a split second. Did she go to her sister, or defend herself? But Bacchus stepped back, lowering his blade.
“NowI forfeit,” he said icily, and turned his back to walk out of the circle.
“Anissa,” Etienne cried out. “No, Iona, stay.”
Serephone dropped to Anissa’s side, and a gong sounded. Pushing bloody hands away, she looked at the wound, heart sinking. It was bad, meant to be a killing blow. Blood bubbled at her elder sister’s mouth, and the thin scream of a child’s cry caused Anissa to jerk. “Mommy. Let me go to Mommy!”
“Take care of her,” she whispered.
“Move,” Serephone heard Dawnthorne command, and then he was there, pushing her away. She fell back on her butt, but, for once, wasn’t angry. She heard the faintest inhalation from the kneeling Fae. He slid an arm around Anissa’s back as she slumped over.
“Damn you,” Dawnthorne whispered, and when he looked up at Serephone, his gaze was malevolent.
