Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Rome

Standing in the depths of a lithium mine, the air dense with an acrid odour, I scan the cavernous abyss.

I know now why I wanted to visit. The five-day journey with my thoughts, distance from all that threatens to tame me, and an emotional void to disappear into.

It is here, that I belong. Not in her arms, not smelling her hair, or deep inside her. In this suffocating blackness, the oppressive silence broken only by the clanks of hammers from men working into the last-light, I am reminded of what my soul must look like.

I continue into the mine. Each descending step is like a demand to fill me with more darkness and press her from my mind. Nothing soft and gentle down here; the walls are jagged, sharp, and lance inward as if on the attack.

I can relate.

“Sire,” a man says, his voice muffed behind a mask, his body in a black shroud, entirely covered as he hammers through the rock. “Do you require my mask?”

“I do not,” I state, and he continues his Purpose.

All the way through last-light, I spend the time walking the labyrinth until I am alone with only the crunch of rock under my feet that echoes into the void.

I breach the top, greeted by the black sky, harsh winds, and the absence of the Missing Moon. However, I have heard that on rare occasions, a star has been spotted above these mines that skirt the beginning of the Horizon. I have never seen a star, but if I ever did, I’d want to show it to her…

Fuck . She is pretty.

On a rough sigh, I stride through the gale toward the large brick fort, which was once a penitentiary, now transformed into the Black Matter Tower.

Inside, the residence houses thousands of men and women. It is simplistic but safe and clean as is assured by The Trade; all seeking Meaningful Purpose are provided for.

I am strolling down the corridor toward my temporary chamber when the soft whimpering from behind a door piques my interest. The gentle cadence reminds me of… her.

Pushing open the door, I find the Black Matter Lord and a Trade doctor conversing while a young girl lies on a small bed, her complexion that of awaiting death. A yellowing to her clammy face. Breath short and rapid.

“What is happening here?”

“Sire,” Lord Coober of the Black Matter Tower bows for me, his short and lean physique perfectly bred for the Mine Trade. “Her mask has been leaking.”

“She's poisoned, Sire,” the doctor confirms. “Her liver is shutting down; we are in the final days of her life. We are discussing ending her suffering now with the La Mu Root.”

“This is the third Silk Girl to come to poisoning here,” Coober states, as I measure the girl up: pretty and strong. Far stronger in appearance than my little creature. “Only one managed to birth a son for my legacy but was so frail from toxicity that it broke her apart during delivery. They do not survive here. I feel I need a Silk Girl with the Xin De genus.”

I walk to her, my chest pulling as I notice the small swell at her hips. My little creature has softened me beyond repair, it seems. The others in the room part for me as I stare down at her. See more than a silk girl. See…

Her eyes blink on my form. “Sire?”

“Yes.” I clasp my hands in front of me, unsmiling. “Do you wish to die today, Silk Girl?”

A shuddering breath escapes her, sucked back in as quickly as it expels. “I will never have Meaningful Purpose.”

“No,” I state. “But you will return to The Crust. You will be part of The Cradle eternally.”

“That is the best I deserve.” She wheezes, slowly batting her long lashes as if the weight of each hair is unbearable.

I feel that fucking pull again—consideration, empathy? What the fuck is this?

I have seen enough.

Felt enough.

I turn to leave when she whispers, “I do not want to die without knowing she has Purpose.”

Her strange declaration sets steel into my boots, halting me midstride. “Who?”

“Aster.”

That name hits me like a bullet, and I lurch around to lean over the girl, hating the use of my little creature’s name through another’s lips. “The fuck did you just say?”

She swallows, her moment of hesitation hangs in the thick, electrified air.

“Say that name again,” I dare.

“My name is Lavender,” she finally manages on a choked exhale. “I know, knew, Aster from the Aquilla Silk Aviary.”

My blood simmers with possessiveness. “What of her?”

She tries to smile, but it’s a distant expression she barely achieves. “Did she get her Meaningful Purpose?”

“She will,” I declare, curt, not trusting this girl, her motivations, her intent until?—

“That's good,” she mumbles, and the tension in my shoulders loosens enough for me to think straight. “Can you tell her I said so,” she continues. “That it's good. Can you tell her that I saw her bird? The mutant one. We all did. It chased Iris. It was funny, but we didn’t dare laugh at her. Can you please tell her I'm sorry for what we did?”

“Sire is not your messenger, girl!” Coober growls.

I spin around, take a fist full of his silver hair, and slam his face into the wooden bedframe, hard enough that he goes limp. I release him, and he drops to the ground.

“Do you have anything to say!” I thunder at the doctor, who backs away with his hands held in surrender.

“No, Sire.”

“Leave!” I order, and he scurries from the room.

I kneel at her bed. “Sorry for what?” She gasps, staring at the body on the floor. “Look at me,” I demand. “Sorry for what?”

Her wide eyes lift. “She will know.”

“I must know!”

“I cannot.” She shakes her head over and over. “And condemn her again. I will not do it.”

Anger’s burning presence returns to my veins. “You will tell me, or I will?—"

“I'm dying, Sire.” Her words are softly spoken but I pause under their weight. “There is nothing you can do to me. Silk girls must be without negative experiences. I do not wish to?—"

“There are worse fates than death.” I grit my teeth, caging the threats that sit inside. Torture. Flaying. Skinning. A slow, bloody death that leaves screams embedded into the atmosphere. I hold the darkness. “Nothing you say will condemn her,” I declare. “You have my word.”

“The word of Rome of The Strait.” She sighs. “I remember when she spoke with you in the parlour. I was viciously jealous of her that day.”

Patience waning, I hiss. “What are you sorry for?”

“I was cruel,” she admits, a shiver racketing through her body despite her sweats. “Many times in her life. For no reason. It felt good to be stronger than her because she seemed so mentally impenetrable. It bothered me, and then you touched her, so before I left the aviary, we held her down and tried to ruin her seal. There was blood. I've not stopped thinking about it?—"

Barely, I hold my temper. “We?”

“Yes. Iris, Ivy and I.” She winces. “Forgive me.”

"No."

I reach forward and snap her neck in one swift movement, letting a growl of protective energy rumble from within my soul, giving it significance, berthing it into the old penitentiary walls.

I rise to my feet, my scowl stripping skin from her lifeless face, when her arm flops from the bed. It dangles. Sways. And her Silk Girl tattoo becomes a pendulum for my internal conflict over loving... Aster.

The scene from my first campaign as heir gutters into me. The dead woman in the van with the Silk Girl tattoo… Her swinging arm. I always suspected she was the birth mother of one of the babes we took. The realisation burns a river through my chest. Now I know.

That was her mother.

And we had her raped and murdered.

I walk from the room.