Throne of Silver (Silver Fae Book 1)

by KB Anne

  Throne of Silver

  Silver Fae Book One

  KB Anne

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously.

  Published May 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by K.B. ANNE

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Gripping Tales, LLC, Pennsylvania.

  Cover Design by Christian Willmans, Taurus Colosseum

  Created with Vellum

  To Steve O for putting up with me when I listen to the voices in my head.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Join K’s Koven

  Also by KB Anne

  About the Author

  Silver Fae Hunter: Chapter 1

  Chapter One

  Dive in.

  That was the advice the swim team captain gave me when I gingerly dipped my toe in the pool at my first 5:30 a.m. swim practice three years ago. You see, the cold shocks your body into action. Stroke after stroke, you concentrate on your breathing, and the angle of your arms as they reach and pull through the water, and the height and depth of your kick, rather than on the freezing temperatures—at least that’s the idea anyway.

  Dive in.

  I took that advice to heart. Made it my life’s mantra, really.

  So, when Sami texted me about a summer fellowship at Trevnor University’s Leadership Academy, I begged her to pick me up an application. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend June, July, and August than adding Summer Fellowship to my Georgetown application. My early acceptance was all but guaranteed.

  But the entrance exam was tomorrow, at the tail end of my post-season training for States, and in the midst of planning prom, Spring Fling, and our junior class trip, plus track started Monday.

  Dive in.

  My mantra sometimes got me in over my head.

  Chapter Two

  Laughter exploded around me as I hurried through the school’s front entrance. Over by the water fountain, four seniors played Hacky Sack while an audience of giggly underclassmen watched, making noises accentuated with rounded oohs and angled aahs. They all probably went to last night’s basketball game too—the lucky bastards. While I discussed table linens and canapés with hotel managers, they got to watch the Webster Titans trounce the Bay Cardinals, 90-40.

  Sometimes I hated these classmates of mine.

  I mean really hated them.

  None of them had two hours of swim practice this morning. None of them had two meetings during school, another meeting after school, followed by two more hours of swim practice. None of them had a To Do list so complicated and involved, even I knew it wouldn’t be completed until after graduation.

  Sometimes I wondered what it would be like not to worry about tomorrow, or next week, or next year. To live in the moment and just be.

  A long stream of water hit me square on the nose.

  Or not…

  Shocked gasps ping-ponged through the ten-foot wide, locker-lined hallway, followed by an awkward, collective silence.

  My body flickered—it had been doing that a lot lately especially when I got mad or annoyed about something. It felt like ocean waves slamming against my chest, and no matter how strong a swimmer I was, sometimes the big ones knocked me on my ass even when I was only knee deep.

  I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. Thankfully, the flickering stopped. I was never standing in front of a mirror when it happened so I didn’t know if the flickering was something other people saw or it was just in my head—which concerned me on a number of levels, but I couldn’t worry about any of that right now. Someone needed to be punished for their crime.

  I tracked the gaze of the surprised onlookers. My assailant, an underclassman with an unsteady grip on a green squirt gun, shook in his red Nike sneakers. I wiped my face and flicked the water in his direction. The droplets soared through the air and landed on his flushed, round cheeks. To his credit, he took it like a man, but unfortunately for him, he became the target of the dark, foul mood that descended upon me the moment I stepped into school.

  “Don’t you have a place you need to be?”

  “Y…yes, sssorry Starrrr,” he said, adding an overflowing consonant stream in the already crowded hallway. I narrowed my eyes. He tossed the squirt gun into the garbage can and sprinted away, red Nikes and all. When the plastic toy landed at the bottom of the can, it was as if someone hit play and all the students returned to their regularly non-scheduled lives.

  Yep, today, I definitely hated them.

  I stomped through the crowds, throwing the occasional elbow and the well-directed shove, because evidently, I was still the only one who needed to be somewhere.

  Frank’s buzzed head towered over the sea of students. I caught a glimpse of tight red ringlets by his side and understood why he didn’t wait for me after practice.

  He glanced down the crowded hall. A broad smile crossed his face the moment he saw me. One icy vein thawed. “Hey Starr,” he said, then winked at the redhead. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye Frankie,” she replied, smiling like she just won the boyfriend sweepstakes. Frank was the total package—tall, dark, handsome with the brains and personality to match, but he wouldn’t date Little Red long enough for her to find out. He went through girls faster than he swam the fifty, and he held the school record in that.

  I frowned at him. “Frankie?”

  He shrugged.

  I spun my combination into my locker. “She already has a nickname for you?”

  He smirked.

  I tried my combo again, but my locker refused to cooperate. It was like it wanted to add further insult to injury.

  At least in this case, I could cause bodily harm to it without being frowned upon. I kicked the base of the locker since my foul mood hadn’t completely lifted and kicking metal seemed like a productive means to releasing frustration. Plus I didn’t know what was up with the whole body flickering thing. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to mention it to my best friend.

  Frank rested his hands on my shoulders and guided me to the side. He hit the locker just below the locking mechanism, and it popped open. He smiled as he rested against the locker next to mine. “When you got it, y
ou got it.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You know, I’m considered quite a prince to every girl in this school but…” He zeroed in a finger on my nose.

  I swatted it away. “I know how charming you can be. The entire female population of Roger G. Webster High knows how charming you can be.”

  He closed the distance between us. “I can’t help it if girls find me irresistible, but my dating days would come to an end if you went out with me.”

  Most girls would love the attention Frank gave me. Most girls would grow red-faced and faint if they heard half the come-ons he practiced on me. Most girls haven’t been best friends with him since he was a short, obnoxious, hormone-ridden, scrawny seventh grader who wore ratty yellow Sponge Bob t-shirts and couldn’t get a date to save his life.

  I shoved him into class. “Get a grip.”

  Chapter Three

  My day began with a squirt gun to the face, but it improved with each rotation of the clock. First period, I aced the chemistry pop quiz. Second period, I convinced Principal Agnes that the Manor Inn provided the best venue for prom—at least missing the big game was well spent. Third period, Jay, the leading scorer of last night’s basketball game, asked me out for tomorrow night and I accepted, and now, Mr. Tetor’s hand hovered above the white board awaiting my debate topic.

  I smiled to myself. Yes, my day had improved dramatically. In fact, I felt pretty darn invincible—not only was Contemporary Issues my favorite class, but my topic kicked ass. “I would to like to debate The Dangers of Not Voting in the Presidential Election.”

  The blue dry-erase marker squeaked and glided across the white board as Mr. Tetor wrote the topic in large bold letters. My nose crinkled at the imagined toxic smell. When he was finished, he turned back to the class, rubbing his hands together like a gold miser. The guy lived for this stuff. “All right everyone, five minutes to prep, and then we open the floor.”

  Silence descended upon the classroom. I leaned over to the person at the desk next to me. “Hey Di, I like the pink stripe!”

  Her pen stopped gliding across the paper. She fingered the tall spikes on top of her head that defy the laws of gravity. “It’s too cheerful. I’m dying it back tonight.”

  I shook my head. Nothing about Di’s black-lined eyes, white makeup, or black wardrobe, could ever be construed as cheerful. Today’s t-shirt message: I HATE YOU. GET OVER IT. Not exactly an invitation for conversation, unless of course, you remembered when she wore rainbow leotards with pink tutus and had a crush on Nick Jonas.

  Five minutes later, Mr. Tetor hit the bell. “Diane, why don’t you start?”

  She set her pen down on her desk. “With pleasure, Mr. T. The last election proved that everyone needs to vote because everything from the environment to same sex marriage is at risk. I’m sick and tired of all those effing homophobic right-wing religious advocates sticking their effing noses in places they don’t belong. Everyone better vote or I will personally kick your ass.”

  A sharp unified gasp echoed through the room.

  Mr. Tetor folded his hands together in his lap. The corners of his lips twitched into a smile. Di might be one of his favorite students, but there were rules even she had to follow. “Diane, we can’t curse in class.”

  “I didn’t curse. I abbreviated.”

  He shook his head. “Who’s next?”

  Tammy, a member of Young Life, the school’s Christian youth group, raised her hand. Half the class groaned. Tammy’s views made the pope seem radical. She cleared her throat, in a very dainty high-pitched way, as if what she was about to say would truly enlighten us. “A man and a woman are the only people who should be allowed to marry each other. Same sex marriage corrupts the very roots of our society. The preservation of straight marriage is one of Young Life’s top priorities, and that’s why I’m happy with the current administration, and when I turn eighteen, I’ll be first in line to vote.”

  Di’s pen raced across her notebook. She would have to wait her turn to counterattack, but I didn’t. I took a few deep breath to keep away the flickering sensation. Tammy’s comments really pissed me off, and I would rather not lose my temper in front of the class. “Keep calm and talk on,” I told myself. I raised my hand. Mr. Tetor nodded at me. “Starr.”

  “I believe everyone should be allowed to marry the person he or she loves regardless of sexual orientation. I don’t understand why anyone cares who someone else marries. Same sex marriage doesn’t corrupt society; close-minded thinking does, and that’s why it’s important to vote in every election in order to make sure your voice is heard.”

  Tammy squinted at me, before lowering her gaze to her paper. Meanwhile, a loud grunt mocked me from across the aisle. Mr. Tetor shifted his attention. “Mr. Evergood, is there something you would like to add?”

  Christian drew in a deep, slow breath. I felt as if he sucked all the oxygen out of the room leaving me woozy and weak-kneed. I clutched the sides of my desk afraid I might tip over. After he filled his lungs to capacity, he glared at me. “I can’t stand nosy do-gooders interfering with things that don’t involve them. Nobody cares what Peroxide Barbie thinks.”

  Peroxide Barbie. Me? Flicker or no flicker, my eyes zoomed in on him. Before I could go in for the kill, Mr. Tetor interceded. “Well, unfortunately for you, Mr. Evergood, this class is about expressing opinions, and everyone has a right to have those opinions heard.”

  His jaw tightened, but he kept his mouth shut. In fact, he didn’t say another word for the remainder of class, even when Tammy and her minions continued to spout their close-minded propaganda as if they read it on the back of a cereal box, but each time I spoke, he shook his head or shifted in his seat, like he was forced to listen to Taylor Swift’s latest album.

  Twice I glanced over at him, habit I guess, and it might have been my imagination but his eyes changed to another shape before they shifted back to normal when he narrowed them at me.

  He made me want to break something or scream out in frustration. Ever since Mrs. Lladoc assigned me as his tour guide at new student orientation last September, which he ditched by the way, he’s treated me like an empty-headed bobble head. For months, I’ve tried to talk to him—hell, I even listened to the Cure because he always wore their t-shirt just to have something in common with him to help ease his transition into a new school, and he had the nerve to laugh in my face. Twice.

  I was tired of him acting like I dented his steel-toed boots. He probably did that kicking the neighbor’s puppy.

  Chapter Four

  Jovie and Sami stormed into the room at the end of the period. My classmates parted for them like the Red Sea, all too aware of their own positions in Roger G. Webster High’s social hierarchy.

  Jovie latched onto my arm as if she hadn’t seen me for years instead of last period. “Do you have practice after school?”

  Before I could nod, reply, or even breathe, she said, “Should we study for the test? Can we study for a leadership exam? Maybe we can go to a movie?”

  Sami pried her from my arm. “Jesus, Jovie, calm down. Of course, Starr has practice after school—she always has practice.”

  They both glanced over at me. I shrugged my shoulders, my only defense against their irrefutable evidence.

  “And we can’t study for a leadership exam—that’s just stupid—so relax. I’m sure Starr has our entire evening planned out for us, but if we don’t stop at PacSun, someone will die a long and painful death. The Trevnor freshie works tonight.” She narrowed her brown eyes at me, daring me to disagree with her.

  Jovie jumped up and down. “Yes! Yes! Let’s go to the mall. I want to get gray ankle boots for the test tomorrow.”

  I draped my messenger bag across my chest and stepped out into the hallway. “As long as I eat after practice and we’re home by ten, I’m game.”

  Ahead of us, Christian’s chin-length black hair swung back and forth in time with the easy rhythm of his walk. He took possession of the halls like he was
the star quarterback instead of the black-eye-lined “I art better than you because I wear black” Goth.

  My hands balled up into fists. I had half a mind to confront him right now and find out what the hell his problem was. The other half, that inconvenient hormonal aspect to my personality I had yet to completely control, wondered what it might be like to run my fingers through his hair.

  “He’d be totally dreamy if he didn’t make that face,” Jovie said.

  “Definitely D.N.O.,” agreed Sami. “Have you seen his ass? If he wasn’t a night freak, I’d ask him out.”

  I stopped and turned to them. “Huh?”

  She knocked her hip into me and pointed at Christian. “Damn Near Orgasmic.”

  My eyes drifted to his tight ass before I shook my head. “He’s a self-righteous, pompous jerk with a boulder-sized chip on his shoulder.”

  Neither Sami nor Jovie replied to my remark. I appreciated their silence—it was a mark of true friendship. We strolled across the cafeteria to our orange laminate table on the old stage, the preferred seating section of the school’s top jocks and power brokers. Frank pulled out my chair, and Sami and Jovie took their usual places across from us. Neither one of them missed the conspicuous redhead sitting on the other side of Frank. Sami’s eyes zoomed in on the new girl, but before she could tear her to shreds, I sprung to action. “Frank, aren’t you going to introduce us?”