Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Aster

They adore her.

Their Queen of The Cradle.

While the men and the large woman from The Queen’s Army watch from a few benches away, Ana, Tuscany, the girls, and I huddle together, sharing stories and chocolate.

A slumber party, they call it; it should be called a ‘trying not to slumber party.’

Rome has his arms folded across his broad chest and his long legs stretch out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, refusing to sleep.

Kong’s deep voice vibrates through the room. “Sleep, Sire. We will take shifts.”

Rome stares at me and blinks his nictitating membrane once. “No.”

I glance back at the women and girls sprawled out, some on the floor, others on the benches. All want to be close to the queen.

The Common girls—Fur Born like me—know the wildest stories. Horrible stories and wonderful ones. Of spirits and devils. Of a man named Jesus who could turn water into wine. I would be beyond endeared by him had he turned water into honey, but it is a fancy story, nonetheless.

Hours pass.

The Missing Moon must be at its topmost perch in the night sky. Most of the girls have returned to the back room, a few others doze on blankets between the benches, close by. Ana is curled on her side, head on my lap, breathing deeply in the pit of sleep.

“I have a story,” a young girl with ashy-blonde hair says, leaning into the huddle, words low and careful. “But Han doesn’t like these ones. You know Endigos like to tell stories.”

The girls nod.

I knew that, too.

The Endigo boy liked hearing mine. As I told him about Odio, his eyes lit up like the lanes of The Estate during a carnival.

She hushes the quiet chatter. “There is an old Endigo legend that the elders tell the young ones. It is about an Endigo boy who ate his baby sister as she was being birthed.”

An older girl shuffles, uncomfortably. “We are in church, Colleen.”

“I know, Susan, so we must whisper,” Colleen says with a wicked, playful grin. “As punishment for feasting on his own, he was lashed back to bones and sent to the Horizon.”

Susan pales. “ Stop. You will give us nightmares.”

“Come sit beside me,” the queen offers, tapping the spot beside her. “I will protect you.”

Susan tries to hide her excitement. “Um, okay.” She stands and sits beside Tuscany, her cheeks now full of excitable colourings.

“ So ,” Colleen begins. “He was sent to the Horizon. The Redwind should have killed him, bled him dry, but because he had no flesh left, he lived. A walking a skeleton.” They gasp. “The elders say that if you dare venture into the Horizon, you will hear his bones rattling in the wind moments before he tries to pull you in. He wants to wear your skin so he can return to The Mainland once again. So, never, ever walk the Horizon. Unless you have no skin.”

Eww.

One of the younger girls curls her nose, cringing. “Why are the stories always about children dying? Why not fully grown men?”

“Because”—Colleen shrugs sad— “We care more for children than fully grown men. We don’t worry about them at all.”

Another girl nods. “Children are more vulnerable and?—

“Fragile,” I agree, subtly holding my belly. I look over at Rome who has fatigue clinging to his strong brow and creeping into his gaze.

Our eyes meet.

At some point, he was a child. It makes me wonder… At what point do boys become men? At what point do we stop caring? Do they feel the shift in their hearts? Their outsides get big, intimidating, and strong, but inside— I sigh as he blinks, fighting the night-time pull to keep his gaze on me. Inside , he is still that young boy.

His eyelids fan his eyes.

Slowly, I watch him lose his battle, the gravity of sleep dragging him under. Asleep and yet, somehow still scowling, still intimidating.

“I know one.”

I am smiling at sleeping Rome when I look back to see a woman approaching from a darkened corner of the church, dressed in dark pants and a dark dress-shirt, red dust on her leather shoes, sweat sparkling on her forehead.

Where has she been?

It’s the depths of night.

I blink at her.

My skin prickles. My bully gauge comes out of retirement, warning me of strange intentions.

“And it is about a half man, half eagle,” she adds. Sitting down on the bench in front, she twists to look back at me. I cannot quite figure it out, but… I don’t feel right. My pulse climbs into my neck; I don’t know why. And I don’t know why she is staring at me. “The tale goes that this man visits the Endigo and asks them to do horrific things… He is a ruler, you see. He gives the Endigo permission to hunt women, allows them to keep the bodies, the flesh, so he can steal their babies.”

“What does he want the babies for?” I find myself asking, quiet, my pulse nesting in my throat.

“For The Trade, of course.”

“I think that is enough stories for the night,” the queen says, yawning softly. “Aster. Go sit?—”

“Your eyes…” The woman’s voice is a soft gasp, still staring at me, strange and intense. “Violet. You—” Her eyes veer over my shoulder to sleeping Rome, then return to me. “Are you allergic to anything, Silk Girl?”

I clench my teeth, everything tensing.

How does she…? No. I will not answer. Will not play along.

I lift my chin. “Are you trying to frighten me? Is this a trick?”

“Aster needs to sleep.” Tuscany stands. “Aster, please, go sit with Sire. Sit with Rome. I will sit with Ana on my lap.”

As I slide Ana from my thighs, my shuddering pulse making it hard to breathe and not bolt away, the girl stands at the same time.

“Wait. I asked him to take her…” Her voice is haunting. “I never knew it was his plan all along.”

All the girls are quiet now.

Tuscany tries to find words.

I walk away from her, a sick feeling rushing through my entire body as images and stories whirl through my psyche.

Fur Born girl.

Mother ran away…

‘She was an exceptional breeder, after all, The Trade invested much time and resources in her. Unfortunately her babes were not born for The Cradle but for a Fur community. You were one of those babes. We got you back.’

I grip the bench, steady myself.

“Little creature?”

Rome is awake, rising to his feet, but his eyes are no longer on me, for the first time, in weeks, his eyes are not where he promised they would always be. They are on her.

Dark and disturbing.

I glance between the woman and Rome, reading the significant message. The truth attacks me, and not a single one of my billion heart cells avoid the dreadful blow.

They know each other— Rome and the woman. The story is true… Is he the half eagle? Am I one of the babies?

“Is it her?” The woman’s chest rises and falls, the air seemingly as heavy as her question. “Is that my baby sister?”

No. No.

My molars saw together.

Stop. Stop.

Rome holds his hand out for me while his eyes plunge hatred into her. “Come here, little creature. Come stand by my side.” His deep timbre is like ice, cold and hard, and one punch away from shattering.

The woman swallows. “How many babies have you taken over the years? Hundreds?”

“Odette.” Han raises his hands, shock and confusion drawing his brows to his hairline. “What are you doing? Sire”—he looks at Rome— “she means no disrespect?—”

Suddenly, two shots of a gun ricochet outside the church walls, the girls drop to the floor between benches, whimpers rush along the ground, and Rome’s head snaps to the door.

“Who did you let in?”

The men lurch upright, Kong and the Guard moving to either side of the window, rifles braced and ready. Discreetly, they risk looking outside.

“I didn’t approve anything,” Han states, his polite smile flattening into a thin line.

My heart races.

A mechanism attached to the Guard’s vest crackles with static and then a word. A word that chills the length of my veins.

Endigos.

“How many?” Rome asks.

“Twenty.” Kong peaks through the window, then leans back, concealing his location. “Thirty.”

Rome shoots his gaze to Han. “Where are the men in your community? Where are they right now? Armed?”

Han swallows over a ball of guilt. “Everyone will be in hiding. The women. Men. They have their own vaults. Secret rooms. We decided as a community to wait out raids. Not to defend. To rebuild. We don’t fight, Sire.”

“Fuck,” Rome bites.

The Guard presses his back to the wall, savouring a moment. “Do you think they followed us from Ruins E? We were careful.”

“We cut off the road. They have Snakes all across the desert.” Kong frowns with a nod. “Perhaps they saw us.”

Suddenly, guns reel off outside the church, one after the other, over and over.

Events throttle faster than my shallow breaths. The girls crawl along the church floor toward the mysterious inside door. Rome has me in his arms, Kong has Tuscany, and the Guard has Ana.

“Let me protect them,” Han begs Rome, pointing toward the room where the other women flock. “There is a chamber—a bunker. Full of our old relics, tombs, everything sacred to us. In case the weather wins. They will be protected down there.”

“Not out of my sight!” Rome barks.

“She will be safe. As God is my witness.”

“Boy,”—Kong warns, using his thick arm to cover the queen’s head as more shots roll from rifles outside the walls— “ Listen .”

Han’s expression breaks. Desperate. “Believe in the good. In me. Let me protect the Silk Girls and the queen.”

Rome looks at me. Stares. “I know you care for all. I know you. But…” His voice breaks in a way that snatches air from my lungs. “The piece beneath your feet, Aster. The piece beneath your feet. Protect it for me.”

With a growl of utter defeat, Rome lowers me to the ground, his hands suddenly everywhere, mapping, remembering.

A frightened Tuscany and Ana are both set down, and we are swept away by Han. The throttle of events stops completely when I get to the door.

Grip it.

Turn back…

“Come with me,” I beg.

Now time stalls and everything happens in four heart beats?—

One.

Rome’s eyes score across me, from the fear in mine, to the black strands tousled down my shoulders and back, to the swell at my hips, and the piece of ground beneath my feet.

Two.

“That piece,” he mouths to me.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes.

Three.

And I stare at him —memorising—the black armour conceals his bulk, but I know every inch of his muscles, every scar, every hair, all the tension, all the twitches. I know him. My Rome. Mean. Cruel. Unapologetic. A warlord. A ruler.

And mine.

Go to him. Go to him.

Four.

Han closes the door.

Rome disappears outside.