Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Aster

Silk Girl Vows:

For The Trade, I will share my last breath if The Cradle need me to. Whether it is land, man, or breath, I do not take possession.

I spoon some oatmeal between my lips, humming.

My cheeks radiate heat, so I wave a small parchment hand fan in front of my face, fanning the sweat to a glistening cool mist.

Glancing around the table, I notice the others are rosy-faced, while above us, the air conditioner hums softly so I know this isn’t an external heat. Nope. We are burning up from the inside out. All of us.

‘Ovulating, little creature.’

I suppress a groan as the events from yesterday unfold behind my eyes like turning pages in my memory.

“Lick.”

“Concentrate on me, little creature.”

“Go to your room.”

“You’re aroused.”

I knew what being a Silk Girl entailed. Adore. Pleasure. I understood the process and the anatomy, but nothing could have prepared me for the… intensity. Of bringing a massive man to shuddering pleasure. Of being praised with a silent lap of his lusty eyes.

I press my legs together, heat rolling between my thighs. I’m worried I’ll leak through my knickers and leave a patch of moisture on the chair.

“He didn’t come last night,” Ana mutters, snatching my attention away from the memory.

“Come inside you or to your room?” Blossom asks, and I nearly spit out my meal. So, we do talk about things.

“Not at all,” she answers, playing with her food.

I sit up, remembering the blood and the body-shaped pattern smeared through it. “Really? Is that strange? Does he usually visit every night?”

I like Ana more than any girl I’ve ever met, but I suddenly feel two opposing forces. One is regretful that something may have happened to her lord, and one is guilt-mixed with relief that if that is true, the king has not chosen a Silk Girl for his heirs yet.

After yesterday, after the feel of him throbbing down my throat, his growls of ecstasy, his thighs tightening under my palms, and then—I almost sigh aloud—our candid conversations… we talked .

The king is my… friend.

I don’t want him to be that close to anyone else, and that goes against everything we are taught, but I’m not made of stone, carved with a blade. I am made of flesh, with a brain and heart that lives independently of what the world tries to carve into my character.

But having character is not virtuous.

I inhale hard, wishing my mind was at peace.

I chant the vows; I take no possessions! I do not own my own breath should The Cradle need it. I know this. I know, but…

I am helplessly drawn to him.

To his cruel honesty. To his blunt demands. I like the iron boundaries he builds around himself because I love that he lets me peer through the cracks every now and then.

It is like seeing inside a mystery.

She pulls me from my thoughts. “He comes to me every night that the lords visit The Estate. Sometimes, he talks to me after the act. About all kinds of secrets. He knows they won’t travel far, because who would I tell, and who would even believe me if I did?”

“They are not meant to talk to you. Ever. Not during your Purpose or in the light-hours. What if you recognise his voice?” Iris says. She has finished her studies. She can probably recite the contents word for word. If she’d only share some of it with me, maybe I wouldn’t ask any more ignorant questions.

Lord Darwin spoke to me…

Maybe because he never intended on picking me, so voice recognition or not, it would never be a problem.

“Besides Sire’s occasional orders, none of the lords have ever spoken to me,” Daisy muses, looking at her meal. “I am thankful. I do not wish to know them outside of my Purpose. It would confuse me.”

Ana looks at Iris. “You would be surprised how much you rely on sight to give you information. I feel lost in the dark. Anyway, I’ve never spoken to a lord outside of my room either, so I cannot recognise anything… And his touch and voice become one at night.” She lowers her voice. “We are in love.”

“You're not,” Daisy says, lifting her hand to soothe Ana’s back, concerned. “Don't talk like that. You’ll get hurt.”

“Fur talk like that,” Iris spits out.

I snap my eyes to her, narrowing her to a tiny target in my vision. I should warn them about you .

"Love is not such a bad thing,” Blossom offers, placing her spoon in an empty bowl.

"It’s not a virtue.” Iris darts her gaze around the table, trying to pull in an ally. She doesn’t get one. “It's dangerous."

"He will let you go,” Daisy says, gentle but firm. “You will leave The Estate when you stop birthing, but he will stay. And he will continue with a new Silk Girl or be pleasured by the House Girls."

Blossom shrugs. "Nothing lasts forever. She can enjoy it while it lasts. That’s not unseemly."

I look at her. "What does that mean?"

Blossom glances across at me. "Nothing lasts forever? Well, she is a Silk Girl today and in love. Then she’ll be a Sired Mother, and she'll have the love of the babies. She will be fine in both places.”

Oh. I see.

"Love is such a Common issue.” Iris turns her nose up and takes a sip of juice, as though to swallow the conversation. “It's simply parasitic."

Suddenly, a blur of white catches my eyes.

I glance out the long, sweeping window that exposes the large courtyard surrounded by high limestone walls.

Through the thick glass, a girl drops backward to the lawn as though she passes out. A man thunders over, Kong, I recognise him, and he drops to check on her.

Wow, he got to her side fast…

He reaches for her cheek, but she flinches away. She looks like a tiny fairy, and he is her monstrous Guardian. Kong is a huge Xin De male, easily two feet taller and three times thicker than her. It dawns on me then, that must be what I look like beside the king.

Ana interrupts my thoughts when she addresses Iris with subtle disdain. “I’m in support of The Revive, Iris. So, if by Common , you mean Human , then yes?—"

"Who is that?” I interrupt, protecting Ana from oversharing her thoughts with Iris.

“Who?” Blossom turns around just as the girl waves Kong away, and lays still like a doll on the greenery. Her honey-brown hair arches like wings in the emerald mesh. “Oh, that’s the Queen."

No…

Tuscany?

The king’s sister?

Can’t be.

"How old is she?" My gaze rolls over her petite body, at her chest she clutches a small brown fluffy toy eagle.

Ana says, "She is in her late twenties, I believe. She was ten when she became Queen. So twenty-eight, maybe."

I cannot stop staring. "She looks no older than me."

"It’s the Xin De genus,” Ana offers, and I return my gaze to her kind face.

I know about this. Kong shows no signs of aging yet must have past his fiftieth year. Will I die of old age before the king even does?

Ana lifts one brow. “The treatments also help.”

"Treatments?" Iris asks.

"My lord told me,” Ana mentions, directly. “Men like to talk after the act, Iris. They don’t want a statue. She is given all these treatments to keep her looking youthful. She looks younger than us if you ask me.”

Iris straightens. “Treatments? Genetic engineering is completely illegal. You are either born with the genus or you don’t have it. That is it!”

Ana frowns. “I didn’t say anything about engineering, Iris. I said treatments .”

Daisy presses her hand to her chest, clearly unsettled, and whispers, “Can we stop talking about treatments and engineering, please?”

I sway the conversation a little. “She looks sad.” My heart aches looking at her, the thin shell of a girl—or woman.

"What could she be sad about?" Blossom asks.

"Why is she holding a doll?" Iris points out, the smallest hint of bitterness punches through her words. The only girl more precious than a pregnant Silk Girl is the queen.

"You cannot judge her because you don't know her or anything she's been through," I point out.

I stand up and walk to the door to the courtyard.

“You cannot go, Aster. Only speak when spoken to. She is the queen!” Daisy shoots up to stop me.

I lift my hand. “But if she is sad and no one is allowed to speak to her, then who will make her feel better?”

“The rules are there for a reason. You’re new. I am just trying to look after you,” Daisy says again, and Blossom and Ana both share glances.

“I’ll be fine.” I enter the courtyard and Paisley is immediately a wall in front of me.

"Where are you going? Aster, you can't go into the courtyard today. It is closed."

Wow, this poor girl is guarded like a bomb. I am not going to detonate her, nor detonate around her.

I swerve past Paisley and head toward the queen. Each step along the grass feels like a small achievement, but I ready myself to be tackled to the ground.

I see movement to my side; Kong is on guard, staring at me with his back to a nearby limestone wall.

Isn’t he the king’s Guardian?

Our eyes meet. Smiling with a silent plea, I keep going until I am standing beside the queen.

"May I lay with you?"

She looks up at me, staring through my existence, as if to determine whether I am real. I understand that look. It is the same one I had when I was in a three-day fever dream.

I look at her toy. “Who is that?” Lying beside her on the grass, I quietly mirror her position, back flat, legs slightly apart, hands resting on my torso.

"Rome,” she answers, with a soft, melodic cadence that dances in my ears. “He is always going away.” She pulls the teddy to her chest. “He leaves me here, and I miss him so."

Sad. I chew my lip. "I'm Aster."

"I know,” she sighs. “I'm supposed to have visited you. All of you. To welcome you to The Estate. But when I go places, smiles crumble, and you all have such lovely smiles."

My heart squeezes.

We lie in silence, and I watch the grey dome above us as it reaches into a dusty red distance, wondering what could have happened to her to make her so strangely unhappy.

I want to understand…

The light breeze sweeps over us, moving our hair in the grass, bringing with it floral notes from the garden and something else. Something from her.

Sweet and citrus… orange.

The queen smells like oranges.

Many moments pass by. And it’s truly surreal, but my soul finds an easy companion in hers.

“It was blue once. The sky,” I finally say.

“I would have liked to see that.”

I exhale with relief. "Tuscany is a lovely name.” I shuffle to look at her face, and she drops her cheek to the grass to meet my gaze. “If I were named after a city from the old-world, I would like to be London. If you were a flower, just a flower, what would your name be?"

Her lips make a tiny smile. "In all my life, no one has ever asked me a question like that before."

"I'm odd."

" Mm .” Her eyes, glimmering amber orbs, say she agrees. “I am odd, too. I'd be Marigold. It's bright, and the bees love them. I'll pollinate the entire planet until we are overrun with flowers.” She looks me over, nodding to herself. “We must look a sight lying on the grass together.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”

Her measured smile softens on me. “I can see you as London. It was supposedly a royal city.”

A moment of reluctance pauses her, but then she reaches for my wrist, lifting it up for her perusal. Her touch is lighter than the breeze.

"They mutilated you," she whispers.

She takes in the healing skin graft.

My brows pinch as I trace the sad curve of her lips. She has been through something traumatic, like me. Maybe. Or nothing like me, but something has scratched her soul. I can see the blemishes left in her eyes.

"They were going to eat me,” I admit.

She carefully lowers my hand to the soft, green blades. "Silk Girls aren't meant to have any negative experiences. It’s better for the cells, no cortisol, no stress, peaceful births and babies.”

My throat tightens. I’ve messed up. It’s not like it was a choice, but it is my problem. "I'm sorry, my queen."

"You're not a very good Silk Girl,” she mentions, and though the words are harsh, she utters them without malice. As though she were merely recognising the colour of my hair.

"I know."

She sighs long and slow. "I'm not a very good queen."

Wow.

"The fuck are you doing!"

Rome grabs my upper arm, dragging me to my feet, where I barely manage to stand.

It all happens so quickly. He is holding my arm too high. I’m too short. I cry out; the weight of my dangling body on my shoulder hurts. I feel as if I may split in two.

“Boy.” Kong is upon us. “Let her go.”

Rome drops me to the ground.

“ Rome .” Tuscany breathes. “Don’t.”

I fall like a wet cloth, the grass scraping my arm as I land. Shocked, I peer up at him, shrinking into a tiny, insignificant puddle at his huge feet. I scoot backward on my backside.

He points at me. “You’re out!”

“Rome!” Tuscany yells.

“My king,” I plead, shaking hard. “She was sad. I was just talking to Tuscan?—”

“What?” He jolts toward me. “Did you just use her name?” If he could burn me to nonexistence with his dark, cruel gaze, he would. “You will never speak her name again! She gave that up for you people! You will never speak again. And that is a damn kindness. No more questions from you. No more special treatment. I don’t care who you are. I understand the need for obedience and conditioning right the fuck now! ” he roars, his body shaking with rage. “There is no place for a girl like you here! You’re lucky you have your pretty throat. Get her out of my sight!”

His words are bullets, and they find their target, right in my heart. “My king, please,” I beg.

“Sire!” he roars, the sound booting me in the chest, his eyes burning with fury so powerful it sparks through the air.

“Come, girl.” Kong grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, nudging me forward.

Shallow breaths racket through me—words, panic, pleading, apologies, confusion, all bursting up my throat simultaneously.

I stumble but peer back to see Tuscany—my queen— standing, angry, and waving her little finger at his broad chest, but Rome glares at me. She reaches up and, with one finger, she directs his cheek back to her.

My heart hammers.

I spin to face forward.

“Better not to look back,” Kong advises smoothly as he ushers me inside, almost protective, but that wouldn’t make sense at all.

Shame nests in my stomach.

It finds company with naivety.

Kong directs me like a towering guard to my small significant self, past the wide-eyed Silk Girls and Paisley, who cups her mouth in shock, all the way through the various halls until we stop outside The Circle.

“The first time I saw the effect you had over him, I thought you were a spy,” Kong says, “the entire raid a setup. But seeing you feed Odio changed my mind. That bird can see the truth inside everything. You’re too na?ve to be a spy.”

Too na?ve to be a Silk Girl.

I look at the door. Blink. “Do I leave now? Who?—”

“Stay in your room,” Kong states, and I turn to look up at him— basically a wall of muscles in dark leather armour. “Sleep. Tomorrow you will know what is next for you.”

I grip my shoulder as a dull throb circles the joint. Kong notices and frowns. He has a distinctive stance, as though the plates in his back are made of pure indestructible metal, never bending.

I feel numb. Everything escalated so quickly to a place I didn’t realise was possible.

I have been so wrong, for so long. Daisy was right. Rules are there for a reason. Iris was right. There is something wrong with me.

“Will I be executed?”

“That is unlikely.” Kong’s voice is the deepest note I have ever heard. “The Trade has invested in your womb.”

My eyes burn; I barely ever cry. “You saw me. You let me speak to her.” I clear my throat. “To the Queen. You could have stopped me.”

“I was thinking about what she would have wanted,” he says, roughly. “Not him or you. I was thinking about her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. And if you know what is good for you, you will stop trying to understand.”