Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Aster

Though it has been four days since the news of my pregnancy, I’ve kept it a hard secret.

The reasons are many. I want to wait until Ana’s grief releases her enough for her to rejoin our regular routine, and for Paisley to announce the next steps, given the babe in my belly lacks anonymity.

‘Do you trust your Collective?’

Rome’s questioning rolls in my mind. No. I do not. Not Iris, at least. That truth is profound and undeniable, weighing like a stone inside me, unmoving, steadfast.

I am sitting with the Silk Girls on the lush emerald courtyard lawn when I hear a commotion inside the wing. Blossom, Daisy, and I share questioning glances, but Iris does not even look up from the book open on her lap.

We hold our voices and breath as the sound of heavy footsteps grows. More than one set and they rap with unyielding focus. Tension crackles in the air.

Suddenly, I see them. Through the window, four Guards stride into the Silk Dining Hall.

We jump to our feet with a start.

They breach the courtyard, their faces hardened with Purpose. Behind them… My breath catches as Rome turns the corner, his black cloak a phantom behind him, the hood bunched at his neck, his dark hair dishevelled and wild as if he has been thrusting his fingers through it, clawing at the dark thoughts that make his eyes appear thunderous.

He is back.

My heart starts to spark.

I want to nurture the warmth.

But my arousal from seeing him is quickly extinguished when the Guards halt, and Rome paces through the middle, stopping a mere ten feet away from where we stand shoulder to shoulder, seeking reassurances together.

Something is wrong.

Rome doesn’t look at me.

He is glaring at Iris.

“Iris of the Aquilla Silk Aviary,” one of The Guard booms at Rome’s flank.

I pale.

“You are under arrest by order of The Trade and The Crown for crimes against your Collective and for deceiving Rome of The Strait, The Cradle’s Monarch and Protector.”

I gasp, my stare panning across, landing on Iris. Her chest rises and falls, erratic and shallow, like there is a little bird inside, desperate to get out. A moment from weeks ago, when she was dragged through the van’s glass screen, flashes before me. I see her fear—she’s not strong, not a survivor at all.

Two Guards move to her and grip her arms; she doesn’t struggle, too paralysed to react. Her mouth opens, but no words come out, merely silent shock.

I would struggle.

I would question, but she is… weak . She knows it, too. Jealousy became her, because, despite her Xin De genus, she is terrified of the world. Of her failings. Of everything.

“Aster,” Iris mutters to me, not with disdain, anger, or accusation, but with a quiet plea for help.

From me…

But what can I do?

My throat tightens, and I’m desperate to go to her, stand by her side, but something has my feet rooted to the lush grass. I set my hand on my lower belly; it’s her or you…

Can you trust your Collective?

Rome finally looks at me—studies me—with a piercing blue gaze, eyes dark and intense, spearing through my thoughts.

Do you trust your Collective?

No.

He knows. I do not know how, but his understanding churns the air, building a tangible storm around us.

As the Guards usher her away, the other Silk Girls watch in horror until screeches echo through the skies above.

Only moments later, Odio’s wings umbrella me, painting the grass around my body with a black shadow.

The Silk Girls’ frightened gasps resonate as they field out and away from the descending giant eagle.

Odio lands hard. Separates me from everyone else. His black and silver feathers are fanned open and ruffled from the Redwind, mirroring Rome’s dishevelled appearance.

They have been travelling.

For how long?

Days? Since Paisley sent the message?

“Guard her, Odio,” Rome orders, and then turns to follow his men and Iris back into the Silk Girl Wing, leaving only a stirring silence in their wake.

In like a storm.

Away like a phantom.

Rome of The Strait.

I press my palm to my lower belly again, align myself with my Meaningful Purpose, and stare through the long window to watch the last whisper of Rome’s cloak disappear into the corridor.

Did I do this?

Manifest this?

How did he find out?

What did he find out?

Startled, I look at Odio as if for answers, and he stares straight back at me. Cocking his head, his sharp gaze locks on my belly. I touch the place that holds his attention.

“You know,” I mutter.

Unwavering from me, his nictitating membrane slides across his eye, presumably wiping the red dust from his glossy cornea.

“ It isn’t leaving,” Daisy whispers. “Why isn’t it leaving?”

“Aster?” Blossom moves toward me, and Odio jerks his head in her direction, targeting her. “Woah.” Freezing her step, she raises her hands. “Aster? What do we do?”

I don’t know…

Through a long shuddering breath, I slowly walk toward them, with Odio’s eyes tracking my every step. “Easy, handsome boy. They are my friends. Companions. My Collective , Odio.”

His head tilts, listening.

That’s it. “Yes, Collective .” I nod at Odio, rounding him. I manage to get to the girls, and we embrace, press our heads together and pant heavily into our huddle.

“It’s okay.” I breathe. “It’s okay.”

“What happened?” Daisy asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Where have they taken Iris?” Blossom adds.

“I don’t know.”

Daisy lifts her head first, her eyes meeting mine. “What did she do, Aster?

Shit.

I’ve spent weeks with these girls. I’ve not trusted anyone enough to release the secrets and spill them into the wild. It wasn’t just to protect Iris, but… I am ashamed. I feel shame over being disliked, over being Fur born, and I wanted them to like me.

But that was selfish.

Guilt now plays with my shame; I didn’t warn them about Iris and put them in danger of having her claws sharpened against their confessions.

“She hurt me, but…” I start, wondering how to explain Iris without making her seem like a complete monster. It isn’t black and white. Iris is grey, so very grey. “I don’t think she can help herself. I think that if she could turn the nasty parts inside her off, she would.”

Daisy frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, I don’t understand,” Blossom adds.

I sigh, blinking as my mind reaches for an explanation. “Have you heard the story about the Scorpion and the Frog?” I ask them, and their brows furrow in unison. “I read it once in an old fairytale book before it was banned. It was raining, or there was a pond in the way, or something like that. I can’t remember exactly, but the scorpion needed to cross the water. It asked the frog for help, ‘Can I climb on your back?’ it said. The frog said, ‘No way. You will sting me.’ But the scorpion was adamant. ‘No, I won’t, because then we will both drown. That makes no sense.’ The frog thought about this. Then he agreed, and just as they got to the middle of the body of water, the scorpion stung him. As the frog began to die and sink, he called out, ‘Why? Now we will both die.’ The scorpion started to drown, and with his last breath, he said, ‘I’m sorry, it is just in my nature.’”

Daisy and Blossom both share a meaningful glance, their expression sad and tight with confusion.

With what feels like tunnel vision, the horizon of light at the end being me, Odio watches as though he is also listening to my folktale.

“She cannot help herself.” I shrug, sad. “She is rotten inside, and I don’t know if she’ll ever change.”

Daisy swallows. “What did she do to you?”

“The thing about betrayal is it never comes from your enemies,” I say. “You have to trust first.” I take a big breath and exhale the heavy words, “Can I trust you?”

“Of course,” Blossom blurts out.

“Yes,” Daisy agrees softly. “I swear it.”

With shaking fingers, I slide my mauve dress up to my knicker-line and display the long, thin scars snaking down my inner thighs. “It is just in her nature.”

Their eyes widen.

I drop the skirting.

I tell them everything that happened. I confide in them; all the secrets and the truth about being Fur Born, Raptor, the dead birds, the pond—the entire private life I lived that I wasn’t supposed to. Not as a Silk Girl. I wasn’t supposed to feed beasts. I wasn’t supposed to swim. I wasn’t supposed to suffer.

Daisy grabs my hand, holding it between two of hers. “Does Sire know? How much? We need to know in case conversations move around us.”

A breath hitches in my throat. “I don’t know.”

Blossom nods slowly. “You know that we know, right? That Sire chose you, Aster. We saw the way he looked at you. It was as if he wanted everyone to know that you were his. It’s okay.”

I exhale hard. “Am I safe?”

“With us?” Daisy’s shoulders deflate, her pretty eyes glinting with remorse. “Yes, of course you are. I know that I recite protocol and vows, but that is because I am trying to protect you. All of you.”

I smile at that. “I know.”

The quiet drags through the air as we absorb everything, as we make room inside our consciousness for moving forward with secrets and truths and… Trust that now wraps us together with twine made of silk.

And I am the one they are counting on.

For answers.

For guidance.

That wasn’t what I expected or wanted, but I feel responsible for throwing our peaceful, simple lives into disarray. Just by being me, I’ve messed things up.

Daisy shuffles along the emerald grass when Odio’s arrowed glare becomes too hot on us. “Do you think he can understand us?”

The great winged deity stares sideways, beady-eyed but magnificent, at our joined hands.

It makes me wonder how tame he is… Or not. Is he like Rome? Deep down, he is longing to have his feathers stroked. I doubt Rome ever offers him gentle attention.

“I don’t think he understands much,” I assure them, though I do not know for certain. “And what he does, he cannot exactly repeat, can he? Animals have energy. We do, too. I was never afraid of him. And even less today.”

I pull my hand from Daisy and hold it up at Odio’s head height, bracing my palm in the air.

He stares at it.

“Come,” I say to him. “Pet?”

He cocks his head and suddenly turns his neck as if sensing an itch, digging his beak into his wings and ripping out a mangled black feather the length of my forearm.

I lower my hand. “Next time, then, handsome boy.”

Across the courtyard, the breeze rolls steadily, the designed environment we exist in sometimes makes it hard to remember that outside The Estate walls, through the trees, there is a dangerous force of unrelenting power—Redwind. Odio sees it every time he hits the skies. Rome sees it when he leaves…

When he leaves Tuscany and me.

Without saying a word.

Not even a goodbye.

I don’t know what he knows.

But I’m going to find out.

“Odio.” I point to the courtyard wall, and the handsome beast cocks his head up from pruning his feathers, a coal-coloured blade in his beak. “Sire. Show me where Sire is.”