Page 8 of The Silver Spider
Chapter Three
Amnan stayed out of sight, but not out of earshot. He waited until the Constable slipped back into the ballroom, leaving Serephone in the hallway. When she began to follow him, Amnan left his hiding spot and intercepted her.
“I forbid it,” he said.
Not the words he’d been intending to say, but now he had to roll with it. Her amber eyes focused on his face, narrowed, expression its usual impassive mask except for the tiny flicker of scorn at the corner of her mouth.
“Forbid what?” she asked, voice flat.
“I heard what your plan is.”
She glanced towards the entrance of the ballroom. “None of your business, princeling.”
He didn’t care for that word in her mouth. Amnan frowned. “My father and I will take care of the problem. Your mother needs—“
“Don’t tell me what my mother needs.” Her voice turned savage, eyes flashing a sudden, brilliant green before dimming back to their regular golden brown. Though he wouldn’t quite call her eyes regular.
“Your mother, your sisters and you, are now my concern. You’re family, and we protect family.”
She studied him. “We’re not the ‘protectin’ kind of females. Get married. Plague your wife.”
Serephone entered the ballroom without another glance at him and Amnan sighed. He’d known she’d brush off a simple, reasonable request. He resigned himself to adding Serephone to his already extensive list of daily tasks.
He found his father, dragging him from the ribald group of dragons toasting the beauty of Maddugh’s bride…very respectfully, of course.
“Isn’t it time you took your mate off for your wedding night, so the rest of us can seek our beds?” He said the words with no small amount of envy. He wanted what his father had, a simple, feisty woman to bed every evening. A friend, and companion, and partner to hunt with. Serephone’s quip about finding a wife hadn’t been far from the mark.
Maddugh clapped him on the back. Amnan just barely kept to his feet, teeth gritted. His father had several centuries of power over him, and enjoyed showing it in these incessant small displays of what Maddugh likely thought were subtle shows of dominance. The addition of females to the household was welcome—it would balance them all. And maybe give his father something to do besides plot on his sons.
“Oh, we had a snack already,” Maddugh said, voice bland. He couldn’t hold the neutral expression long though—not after guzzling a barrel of fine wine. A leer broke through. “If you know what I mean.”
Amnan winced. “Please. Spare me. Father, I’ll need to step away from overseeing the mines for a few weeks. Serephone is up to something.”
Maddugh stroked his imaginary beard. “Mmm. That one will keep a man on his toes.” He eyed Amnan. “Do you truly have an eye on her for yourself?”
“I must be mad. Or bored.”
Maddugh’s hand rose to clap him on the back again. Amnan danced out of the way, expression baleful.
“Well, I’ll rope Nuaddan in to do a little work. It’s about time he stopped licking his wounds.”
“Father.”
“Don’t use that tone on me, boy. Your brother has had enough time to mourn. He needs to live again.”
“Hrutha—“
“Are you mad? Nothing would get done with Hrutha in charge. He’d spend his time redesigning the worker’s uniforms, or other nonsense.”
As much he could say against that—it was true. “He needs a mate as well.”
“I’m not sure I could do that to some poor, unsuspecting female.”
Amnan coughed. “Or male.”
Maddugh ignored him. “A strong back, and bearing hips is all she’d need. A firm voice.”
Amnan stared at him. “That sounds dreadful.”
