Throne of Silver (Silver Fae Book 1)

by KB Anne

  “I see,” I replied acting like I had any clue how far north we were.

  “During the war, the mansion was used as a hospital for both Yankee and Confederate soldiers. The owners were Northern supporters, but the property sits south of the Mason Dixon line. It was rumored by many to be a major stop for the Underground Railroad. There were reports that more than five hundred slaves found safe passage to the north because of this place.”

  I could rule out Pennsylvania—that was north of the Mason Dixon line. Maybe Virginia or West Virginia? We didn’t drive long enough to make it to Tennessee or North Carolina.

  “When the war was over and the land was depleted and refused to produce more cotton, the owners looked into other business opportunities. After several failed ventures, the family discovered chocolate, and so Silverlain Chocolates was born. While the chocolate is no longer made on site, the owners, descendants of the original, still host chocolate samplings here, and hold huge parties every year for a number of charities,” she said. “Follow me this way please.” Her grey bun bobbed back and forth as she led me into another room.

  Oh, shit.

  I couldn’t believe I didn’t remember this place. I spent every other holiday here until I was seven. “Do the owners still live here?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, they do. They’re getting old and are tired of maintaining the property. They have no heirs, so when they pass on, the company will go public, and the mansion and the remaining lands will be donated to the Historical Society.”

  “Are they here now?” I was afraid to ask, but terrified not to.

  The tour guide turned to me with a grave expression. “They are in their private living quarters upstairs and do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Of course, I would not dream of intruding on them.”

  Lady, you have no idea.

  Marian led me around the mansion, describing every change that had taken place over the last 150 years. She droned on and on about silk Persian rugs, wool Italian tapestries, and Greek revival walkways. Every hallway and room took me deeper inside the mansion and farther away from freedom.

  Christian was either back at the room or soon would be, and here I was with Chatty Cathy tour guide in a mansion, I, of all people should not be in. I needed to get out of here before anyone noticed me. I just needed to find a polite way to bow out of the rest of the tour before someone recognized me.

  Too late.

  As we rounded the corner, we came face to face with a nightmare that might trump the Organization. Standing before me was my grandmother, my long estranged grandmother. Her hair was more white than blond now. She was softer around the middle than she used to be, but her face was still perfect and her cashmere sweater set and pearl baubles screamed old money.

  I fixed my eyes on the Persian rug Marian was describing and tried to keep calm. I was seven the last time my grandmother saw me. I had changed a lot since then.

  “Mrs. Silverlain, what a pleasure!” Marian gushed in a sugary sweet voice.

  Grandmother cringed before acknowledging her. “Hello Marian.” Her voice sounded exactly as I remembered, tolerant of those “below” her but with a tone that set her position far above everyone else.

  “I am so sorry to disturb you. I had no idea you would be on the first floor. We shall leave you immediately.” Marian shushed me out of the room.

  Grandmother snapped her head in my direction. “Marian, I had no idea you had someone else with you. Please child, look around. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me.”

  Her hungry hawk eyes zoomed in on me. I tried to look at her without looking at her. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Where did you say you were from?” she asked, mimicking Marian’s sugary sweet voice.

  “Chicago.”

  She walked closer to me. “I love Chicago. The skyscrapers are gorgeous.”

  “They certainly are impressive,” I replied as I headed over to study another tapestry on the far side of the drawing room.

  “Have you lived there long?” She sidled up next to me.

  “Born and raised.” I shifted away from the awful woman. “Excuse me Marian?”

  My tour guide looked over at me. “May I use the restroom?”

  “But of course, my dear,” Grandmother replied instead. “Third door on your left.”

  “Thank you. It was nice meeting you.” I bowed my head in her direction, keeping my eyes trained on the floor.

  “Nice meeting you too, dear. Enjoy your stay.”

  Stay? Did she say stay? Why didn’t she say tour or visit?

  Starr, calm down, you’re paranoid.

  I hurried down the hallway, hoping to slip out of sight, but unfortunately, the hallway was a long, straight shot. Before entering the third door on the left, I glanced back. Grandmother stood in the hallway with her arms crossed, watching me. Marian’s shoulders trembled, as she headed off in the opposite direction. I swallowed my nerves and tried to keep cool. Twisting the doorknob, I walked into what I thought was the bathroom, but it wasn’t. It was the library. The library used to be my favorite room in the entire world. Shaped like a castle turret, the loaded bookshelves soared to the heavens for several stories before reaching the tinted glass ceiling. Fat cherubs waved to me from the upper walls as I gazed up at mythological scenes from my childhood. I smiled as I walked over to the chaise lounge I used to call my throne of silver.

  As my hand trailed along the expensive silk fabric, a wave of nostalgia hit me. When we came to visit, Dad and I used to lay on my silver throne and stare up at the ceiling. He’d make up stories about the fat cherubs on the walls. My dad. I missed him so much. I was his Star, that’s what he used to call me, his Star.

  Now a ruthless organization was after me, and I had to walk away from my life yet again, and this time I had to leave Mom behind.

  A loud click echoed through the room as the door shut behind me. The door! Sprinting over, I tried the knob, but I already knew the answer—locked.

  What had I done? What was I thinking? That was the problem. I wasn’t thinking. Remember the saying, “Curiosity killed the cat?” No kidding.

  Crap!

  Starr, keep calm.

  I knocked and called out, “Hello?”

  No answer.

  I knocked some more and called out, “Hello!”

  Still no answer.

  I pounded on the door and shouted, “Hello!”

  Suddenly, another door opened and closed on the other side of the room. I spun around to face not only Grandmother but Grandfather, too. He looked exactly the same. His black hair was slicked back in the same style he had worn since I’ve known him. His tall frame didn’t stoop like most men his age. Determined blue eyes, void of laughter and love, pierced right through me. He still made me nervous.

  Starr, keep cool. Give them nothing.

  “The…the door,” I stuttered, “locked behind me. I’m sorry to bother you. I thought the door led to the bathroom. I’ll be leaving.” I hurried past them, but before I got to the open door, a large muscular man in an expensive suit closed it behind him. He stopped in front of it, crossing his arms as he set his jaw, as if to say, “Go ahead. Make my day.” I gasped dumbfounded. In the next breath, I regrouped enough to ask, “What’s going on?”

  “Jessalyn,” Grandmother said in a fake, loving voice, using my birth name as she crossed the room.

  I stepped back almost bumping into the brawny bodyguard. I quickly sidestepped away from him. “I’m Jovie.” Poor sweet Jovie.

  Grandfather stepped closer to me. “Jessalyn, we know it’s you.”

  I backpedaled away, careful to avoid Brawny. “My name is Jovie. I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.” I tried to maintain the same cool expression as Grandfather.

  Keep calm Starr. Keep calm.

  “No, we are not mistaken,” she replied. Before I could interrupt, she said, “I didn’t know it was you at first. You weren’t much older than a toddler the last time we saw
you, but your eyes, something about your eyes, reminded me of ones I haven’t seen for ten years—they’re your father’s.”

  I tried to keep my face expressionless. A huge lump formed in my throat.

  “That’s why,” she continued as a cruel, knowing smile crossed her face, “I sent you down to the library instead of the bathroom. I knew if I could get you in here, I would know if you were Jessalyn. You did exactly what I expected you to do. You went over to the chaise and looked up at the ceiling just like you did when you were a little girl.”

  Walked right into that one. Stupid. Careless.

  “I’m sorry ma’am, but anyone would look up in this impressive room. I just happened to stand by that piece of furniture.”

  “True,” she responded sugary sweet, “but you ran your hands across the fabric lovingly.”

  “It’s a beautiful piece.”

  “Jessalyn, we know it’s you. Enough of this nonsense,” Grandfather barked.

  “Listen, I am not Jessalyn. I’m Jovie, Jovie Donovan, and I was born and raised in Chicago, and I would like to leave now.” I marched toward the door again. Brawny blocked my way with his arms crossed. I shot eye daggers up at him, but he refused to budge. I stepped back.

  “Perhaps Jessalyn needs some time to think about it, dear,” Grandmother said to Grandfather.

  Grandfather nodded his head in agreement.

  “You’re leaving me in here?”

  “Not forever dear, just until you decide who you are,” she replied.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Control, Starr, Control.

  “Marian knows I’m in here.”

  She smiled at me. A cool, calculating smile. “Marian was dismissed for bringing a teenager, and an inappropriately dressed one at that, through the house. Her services will no longer be required. The estate will be closed to the public due to the frailty of the owners.” She put her hands in a prayer position, but she was no Mother Theresa.

  “You can’t do this!”

  “Dear, when you have as much money as we do, you can pretty much do whatever you want. You’ll see. You’re upset now, as you should be. You were wrongfully kept from your grandparents, but now we are together again, and your future just multiplied dramatically.” She gave me a knowing look and walked out the door. Grandfather followed behind her. When they were gone, Brawny stepped through the doorway and closed it.

  Out of sheer disbelief of another day gone horribly wrong, I tried the doorknob. It was locked, just like I knew it would be. I slumped against it. How did this happen? Why did I take that stupid house tour? What was I thinking? That was the problem. I didn’t think. My mom sacrificed so much to keep me safe and here I went and effed it all up. And what was Christian going to do? He had no idea where I was. He was going to freak out. I couldn’t believe I did that to him.

  Starr, snap out of it! Pull yourself together!

  I stepped away from the door and tried the doorknob again. On the wall next to it, there was a large collection of pictures. I studied them closely and realized it was the grandparents’ Wall of Fame—not pictures of their son or their granddaughter. No, these pictures involved Grandmother and Grandfather giving someone a big fat check. A man with white hair, though he didn’t look old, was in a number of photos. His cheesy smile was made for the cameras, but there was something about him that made my skin crawl. The kind of man you hoped didn’t come to one of your swim meets and ogled you in a swimsuit.

  In one picture, they were holding gigantic scissors and cutting a thick red ribbon. In another, they posed with a shovel. It amazed me that my father, so wonderful and caring, could be related to these awful people. I needed to get out of here now.

  I inventoried the room.

  Two doors—Locked

  Glass Ceiling—Four stories up with no access

  No windows

  HYPOTHESIS: Totally screwed

  Think, Starr. Think. The Organization wanted you as an assassin. Think like one.

  Lost in thought, I found myself sitting on my silver throne. I was tempted to sniff it to see if it still smelled of silk, horsehair, and a hint of cigar, but I didn’t want to get lost in the memory of it. Instead, I tilted back and looked at the ceiling. I remembered being five years old, lounging on the throne with my dad. We’d stare up at the setting sun, through the glass ceiling. When darkness settled in the room, the stars sparkled and shooting stars flashed across the night sky.

  “Make a wish my little Star,” Dad would say then tickle me.

  Covering my mouth to stop the giggles, I’d always say, “Okay Daddy.” I’d close my eyes and make a wish.

  I remembered the way his twinkling eyes would turn to me in the darkness. “Now don’t tell me what you wished for or it won’t come true.”

  “But Daddy, I wished—”

  “Don’t tell me,” he’d sing, putting his hands over his pointed ears.

  Laughing, I’d yank on his arms to get him to listen. “But Daddy, I wished—”

  He always escaped from my grasp no matter how tight I held him, and he’d dance around the room chanting, “Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, or your wish won’t come true.” I’d chase after him, round and round the room, always forgetting what I wished for, but it didn’t matter because I had him. I had my dad.

  My dad who was...

  A faerie.

  He was a faerie.

  But that must mean...

  My heart thumped rapidly against my chest. That flickery thing started happening again.

  I glanced around the room to make sure I was indeed alone before focusing on my hands and peeling back what I thought was called a glamour. Pale, shiny, flawless skin remained where once blotchy reddish tan skin with scarred knuckles once was.

  Gasping, the glamour locked back into place.

  My throat tightened. I tried breathing in and out but I couldn’t seem to get any air into my chest. My chest felt like it was getting squeezed between two rocks.

  I huffed in and out unsure of what was happening to me.

  Get it together Starr. Get it together.

  “Breathe Starr. Breathe,” Dad used to say when I got upset when the other girls refused to play with me because I always wanted to be the princess.

  No, that wasn’t right. They didn’t want to play princess with me because I was actually a faerie princess.

  Dad always knew the answer to my problems. Always knew that I could never live a normal life if I was a Silverlain—and he wanted me to live a normal life more than anything.

  I stared up at the sky. I needed him now.

  The glowing colors of the late afternoon sun played off the paintings. The cherubs came to life. In their animated jubilee, there were objects I’d never seen before. As the sun’s colors grew more vibrant, I realized the objects were stars. Shooting silver stars.

  “Where do shooting stars go Daddy?”

  “To fill people’s wishes silly. The best way for your wish to come true is to follow the star until it lands.”

  Where the star lands…

  A cluster of stars fell on one wall about three stories above, but how to get there... I searched the room for something, anything I could use to climb up to the landing star. There was a portable, wrought-iron staircase on the opposite wall. I sprinted over and pushed it under the star cluster. My heart pounded as I climbed the stairs two at a time. Scanning the shelves, my eyes came to rest on a thick, purple-leather book entitled, I Wish.

  It couldn’t be that easy.

  Pulling the old book from the shelf, I inspected the exterior. Other than a few cracks in the leather spine, it was in nearly perfect condition. Opening the cover, I read the inscription:

  Those with a lack of imagination will always be stuck. Reach for your wish, and it shall be granted. ~ S.S.

  S.S. weren’t my dad’s initials, but the second S must stand for Silverlain. Marian’s words came rushing back to me, “The owners were Northern supporters, and the building was rumored by ma
ny to be a major stop for the Underground Railroad.”

  “Reach for your wish, and it shall be granted...”

  I slipped my hand between the books. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. I rapped the top of the shelf with my knuckles. Then knocked the back of the shelf. It sounded hollow. I knocked it again. Definitely hollow. I reached in my fingers and searched for crevices and corners until I found a tiny crack where the back met the shelf above it. With my fingernails, I pried it off. I bent over to peek in. There was a lever. I reached in and pulled on it until it clicked. The wall of books next to me slowly opened. I opened it wider and peeked in, but couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black in there. I hesitated taking one final look at the library before I swallowed my nerves and stepped into the darkness. My fear of the unknown was far less than my hate for my grandparents. Just as I was about to close the door behind me, I remembered the book in my hand and the rolling staircase I left in front of the bookshelf. Talk about a dead giveaway. Some assassin I’d make.

  I replaced the false backing on the shelf, put the book back, and shoved the staircase as hard as I could. It slowly rolled to another section of the library before stopping. I tool one last look at my beloved prison before closing the wall of books.

  “Come on Dad,” I whispered, “make my wish come true.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The wall closed behind me, extinguishing any trace of light with it. I stumbled down the black passageway, moving as fast as I could, but I didn’t get far before trouble found me. My shorts got caught on something. I pulled and yanked until the sound of tearing nylon soon followed by a razor-sharp piece of metal gashing into my thigh told me I was in deep shit. Warm liquid gushed down my leg, but there was nothing I could do to staunch the flow of it. I needed to keep moving forward. A little blood lose never killed anyone. I also needed to see in order to avoid future injury. I took a deep breath and focused on my surroundings willing my fae nature to see in the dark. I knew it was a long shot, especially since I’d never been able to see at night before but maybe if I really dialed my fae nature in... I breathed in and out, in and out, as I stared ahead of me. Soon the faint outline of walls in a narrow hallway became visible. Everything was coated in a faint silvery light.