Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Aster

I soon learn that at the conclusion of a Trade campaign, when Rome returns, activity bursts across The Estate like an exploding mosaic. They celebrate his presence.

Gripping the top of the balcony, I lean over and watch another carnival unfold like a living tapestry, spreading colourful tents and lights across the streets.

The citizens move around in waves. The music lifts up to where I stand on the roof of his personal wing, a teasing melody I am not allowed to completely enjoy.

I am not allowed to go.

I place my hand over my womb.

Protect the heir…

From here, I can see the piazza fountains shooting into the sky, and if I lift to my tippy-toes, I can see the stage erected between the ancient city buildings and Rome sitting on his throne with an empty seat to his right and Lord Turin Two, Lord Bled, Lord Medan, and Kong to his left.

Mm , he is so handsome.

I flatten my feet and pout.

“I suspected as much.” A soft voice comes from behind me, and when I turn, I see Tuscany strolling onto the balcony. “I could disguise you.” She stops a few feet away and smiles, faint but sweet. “We could put you in a pretty mask and hood and have you wander in the shadows to enjoy the festivities.”

As if he understood, Odio screeches from the skies above the building. Not approving the plan.

“Oh, Odio. Really ?” Tuscany half-laughs at the great beast as he lands on the roof above us, leaning over the brink to watch us converse on the platform below. “Well, he misses nothing. He is probably wary of my guests.”

I lift a brow. “Your guests?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice soars from inside. “Aster!” I beam. Blossom and Daisy dash through the balcony’s open doors, the purple drapes swaying as they fly past.

Daisy grins. “I have news.”

“I do, too.” Blossom bounces over.

My heart warms as the three of us embrace, our soft squeals and greetings singing in the air.

“I do miss our routines and the courtyard,” I admit, “I feel as though I have abandoned you.”

“It has only been a few days.” Daisy chuckles but pulls me in a little tighter to show how she feels.

My smile reaches every inch of my face, when another voice comes from inside. “What is the intention of the mantled eagles? They are… welcoming?”

My chin turns in time to see a stunning dark-skinned girl with a round belly walking—waddling—toward us.

“Ana!”

She presses into our huddle on the balcony, and I revel in the moment, my yearning to join the distant carnival melting away. “You’re feeling well?”

“I am feeling ,” she simply says. “And accepting. I want to appreciate the smaller details before the puzzle is complete and I miss them. Like you. You’re a very pretty detail that I do not ever wish to take for granted.”

A lump forms in my throat. “ Ana .”

As sentiment bites at our smiles and glosses our eyes, Ana clears her throat, shaking it away. She bumps Daisy with her hip. “Tell her.”

“I am pregnant,” Blossom blurts out.

“ Blossom ,” Daisy mock-moans. “We flipped a puzzle piece on who would go first.”

Blossom covers her smile. “Sorry!”

“As am I.” Daisy’s expression takes on a serious, significant manner when she places both of her palms on my lower abdomen. “And I hear you carry a king, Aster.”

My heart jets to the skies, and I nod.

“Aster made me realise something,” Ana says, and we all look at her. “While I was in my room.”

We form a relaxed circle, and the carnival music floats to our platform, creating a private festival just for us.

The Silk Girls.

“Meaningful Purpose is the completed puzzle,” she states. “But the journey, the pieces, can be meaningful, too. You and you and you”—she bounces her soft, brown gaze around the circle— “my Collective.”

“Aster…” Blossom’s eyes fill with hope. “You’re still one of us, aren’t you? You’re not something different now?”

“I am still one of you.” I cup the back of her auburn hair. “He has said I can see you as often as I wish, only I must bring…” On a heavy exhale, my gaze hits the roofline.

They follow my line of sight to where Odio is perched on the tiles above us, head tilting as if listening.

Ana shrugs. “It will be nice to have a man around.”

I laugh.

Remembering the queen, I spin to thank her for allowing this to happen, but… she is gone. Sadness flickers inside me, but I remember my Collective. I force myself to surrender the simmering need to help her. Sometimes, it is best to accept that not everything can be fixed. Some people are not ready… some are paralysed with fear.

A memory whispers in her absence. Small feathers in my palm. An upside-down bird trapped in a glass house.

If she could only see the Redwind.

See something outside of these walls.

Maybe she would spread her wings.

“What happened to Iris?” Daisy pulls me to the present, her question a chisel hacking for the truth.

Blossom looks ashamed. “We told Ana.”

“I thought you would want her to know,” Daisy adds, glancing quickly at her hands. “We should trust each other in all things. I hope you’re not up?—”

“It is fine.” I touch her shoulder. “I’m glad.” Taking a step back so I can better see all three of them, I answer with all that I know. “She has been banished from The Estate. Sent to another Tower. One on The Mainland. A mining Tower. That is all I know.”

Ana frowns. “They are not executing her? For what she did to you? For crimes against her Collective? Against us?”

It is not that simple. I see her grey…

I shake my head as I say, “No. I begged the king to show her mercy.”

“ Aster ,” Ana sighs my name, heavy disapproval dropping her tone. “She deserves far worse.”

“She is the scorpion,” Blossom bids.

Ana’s eyes dart around in confusion. “A scorpion? Huh, she is a scorpion, that is for sure.”

“The House Girls are at the carnival.” Daisy points, and we all follow her finger out toward the stage.

I lift to my tippy-toes again, squinting at where Lord Medan, Lord Bled, and Rome are surrounded by women. Tall and curvaceous women, but any further details are lost to the distance. With that height and thickness, one can only presume they have a high Xin De genus.

Envy embeds its claws in my stomach.

I recall a conversation from last night when Rome said that Xin De girls can take more of him inside them. And I feel it, the most shameful of emotions—jealousy. It traps focus, distracting us from our Purpose. I don’t have time for it.

Jealousy makes us lose our path.

“Maybe they are dancing for the lords at the carnival.” She hums. “That’s a little… provocative, but then, the men need to unwind. It is good for their temperament.”

“Dancing.” I find myself grinding out the word, hoping to turn the jealousy it carries to dust between my teeth. Jealous inflictions imply I want something that they have… But I don’t.

Because he is mine.

My king.

They want what is mine. I don’t feel jealous; I feel territorial. There is a distinct difference.

We stay on the balcony, enjoying the music and occasional cheer from the carnival below. Crown-light fades into last-light, and fires, torches, and lamps from lanes create blazing dots across The Estate.

Ana, Daisy, Blossom, and I open up to each other. We share stories from books we were never meant to read and discuss the old-world. We consider the ideology of The Crust—a state of peace and endless happiness or just a place to decay. And while we talk, I realise I am not that different. They have the same wandering mind, only they are better at controlling it.

After they leave, the Missing Moon must be hanging high, surrounded by stars that will never filter the haze, as I roll around in his bed, the enormous surface swallowing me.

I dream about a small boy holding a dead baby bird, not knowing what has happened to it. I don’t know how I know that, but he is in pain and desperate to stroke the feathers, to soothe it.

The little thing is upside down, its legs curled, feet crimped in tight agony. I follow this boy as he strolls around a grey underground with flickering lights, which does not make sense because how would a bird get down there?

The boy in the dim fades to the words, "Aster..." He slowly drifts away from me, and I feel myself reaching out my fingers, feeling a sadness I cannot comprehend—I don't know him.

"Aster."

I flutter my eyes open to Rome crawling on the mattress, his heavy weight rocking me from side to side as he climbs over me.

"My king," I whisper in my sleepy daze, but the sadness clings to me for a few conscious moments longer.

Then warm lips seal my mouth and flood my heart with love and contentment.

Heat blankets my skin as his kisses deepens, and his hands trail over my body, seeking, searching, worshipping. I should be frightened by how large his palms are, how much surface they cover, how possessive his grip is.

But I’m not.

His fingers slide between my thighs and find my core wet and warm already.

A moan leaks from my sleepy mouth and into his kiss.

He dips between my folds, playing up and down the slick valley but not pushing past the entrance and into me. He stirs me, my eyes rolling to his perfect rhythm.

"The thought of you has been distracting me all night. You have power over me."

More moans roll along my tongue. My hips circle with his skilled fingers, chasing the edging pleasure. "I need to take back some power, little creature," he utters darkly.

With that, he rolls me onto my side and covers my back and legs entirely with his large form.

Between my thighs, two fingers return to their motion, to their mixing of pleasure, to their stoking of need.

His other hand positions his cock. He doesn't wait, rousing me with his warm touch while he takes his power back and pushes through me.

My eyes fly open, and my steady, soft moans spiral into uncertain whimpers and mewls.

I dig my nails into his sheets.

He hooks my leg backward over his and pumps into me. "Fuck, yes. You’re so wet."

“My king.” My voice trembles.

“I am here. You’re safe” He reaches for my hand, brings it back, and sets my fingers on his thick, veined forearm. “Remember your claws, little creature.”

The stretch is…

Oh, the stretch.

Warmth.

Tension.

Pressure.

But then… I cannot quell the thought of him with a Xin De girl. Sinking all the way in. I push my backside into him, and immediately, his crown bashes something inside me—the end of me. I cry out, both frustrated and in pain.

“Stop that!” He grunts. “You have a lot of nerves on your cervix, and you’re pregnant. If you do that again, I will pull out and fuck your other hole as punishment.”

Fuck my?

I blink.

He cannot mean…

My confusion churns to pleasure when his fingers slide down and play with my clit, strumming the bead. My mouth opens, and I whimper my thoughts. "I saw you.”

“Saw me what?”

“With the House Girls.” The words fall out before I have time to swallow them. Can’t swallow. Can barely feel anything as he brings my pleasure up, up, from my toes. Down. Down from my hot ears. Across, across from thighs. Landing a ball of pleasure at the tips of his fingers that leaves me writhing and taking fast thrusts from behind.

His fingers leave me.

“Did you?” A firm hand slides up, roaming along my trembling belly, between my ribs, to my throat, where he grabs the column, possessiveness rearing up.

Groaning, he holds me still to take his thrusts from behind, beating upward into me but still cloaking my spine in his hot body.

I shake when he does.

I swelter when he burns.

"What are you implying," he hisses between heavy pants that match his inward drives. "That I want someone else? That I’ll take them over you?”

I answer through choppy whimpers. "It is none of my business who you..." I hesitate, but say it anyway, "fuck."

"That word is beneath you, sweet creature. I fuck you,” he says as he does. “I fuck, you do not. You adore, pleasure, love. Don't use words that are beneath you."

He groans, the pumping of his hips gets faster, and I close my eyes, taking the need, feeling his desperation to come in the precision, in the focus of every inward drive.

My pussy ripples and flutters around him, opening only when he pushes in and closing as he pulls out.

I’m mindless with him. “ Oh , my king."

"Don't disrespect this, little creature. Don't underestimate my obsession for you!" His fingers tighten around my throat. "I am consumed . I cannot go a night without this. I cannot concentrate."

Thrust.

"The thought?—"

Thrust.

"Of touching?—"

Thrust.

"Another and then using the same hands to touch you—" His muscles tighten. He lifts my thigh higher, angling me, holding me like a doll for his hard final thrust.

"Fills me with rage.” He comes inside me with a throaty growl that projects through the room, warning every inch of space, every fibre, that he claims me. As he spurts inside me, rumbles of his pleasure vibrate against my spine and blanket me in pride. I can bring this man, this beast, pleasure with my body. I suppose that is powerful… But one should not think such things. Not about a king.

His long exhale beats down on me as he relaxes, lowering my thigh to meet the other, but he does not drop the muscle. Instead, kneads the tension.

“That’s my good girl.”

I press my head back into his heaving chest, feeling him. Feeling his heart thumping like a well-worked machine. His length still slowly pulsing.

“I mean no disrespect, my king.” I breathe. “But monogamy is self-serving. I do not own you, and it would be?—”

“You own me.”

My breath lodges beneath his palm. “Pardon?”

“I am the king of The Cradle.” He relaxes his grip around my throat, resting but not releasing. “I was built to protect and serve the land, but I swear to you that no part of it is more important than the piece beneath your feet.”

“My king,” I sob, happy.

I love you. I love you.

My heart feels like it may burst through my chest. I want to cry, because this is terrifying. Want to shake the moment, pinch it, because it isn’t real. Can’t be.

“Say it.”

I blink. “Say what?”

“What you are thinking. I demand it.”

I snuggle backward into him, and he doesn’t tense. He relaxes. His heavy bicep surrenders to his fatigue, becoming a heavy band that pins me down. His palm continues to cradle the pulse in my neck.

The pulse that he owns.

That speeds for him.

Slows for him, flutters.

Beats for him, hard.

“I love you, my king.”

The beast inside purrs under the affect of my words, and I feel something shift. Something deep inside him that was black and hard. I feel it soften.

Then he says, “ Rome .”

My eyes fill with tears, but I don’t know why. I am a silly, little girl. It’s only… I have never said his name. I have heard it, thought it, but never, wouldn’t dare, say it.

The word comes from a smile. “ Rome .”

“Say it all again.”

“I love you, Rome.”