Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Aster

“You look like a fertility goddess,” Tuscany says, stopping a few paces away from me.

Even after everything we have been through—at the abbey, waiting for Rome to return, mourning Odio—she still keeps space around herself. She seems to draw away from physical touch, whereas I seek it out.

“Thank you.” I smile, my cheeks flushing. I disagree, but I refrain from admitting that. A goddess is graceful, airy, and enchanting.

I wobble and pant, even sweat.

I can see why my studies left out this part of the pregnancy journey.

But I am lucky.

I have Meaningful Purpose.

And love.

A perfect gust of wind moves my mauve dress around my body, cooling me and awakening playful bumps along my skin.

Rome comes up behind me; his height lords over me. He circles a thick arm around my waist, slides his palm beneath my belly, and takes the weight of his heir in one large hand.

I swear my spine literally sighs.

“Better, sweet creature?” His otherworldly stature presses to my back, and I slump against him, my head resting just below his chest.

“I love the roses, my king.” I smile softly at the blooming garden, petals unfurling, their posy scent lifting. “But why are we out here?”

“I have someone to show you.” His voice slides to the side as he says, “Both of you. I wanted to wait until he was back to his usual self.”

Through the gentle rustling of trees, I hear a screech, the thrilling sound creating tangible waves in the atmosphere. They reach inside me and snatch air straight from my lungs, leaving me gasping.

“It can’t be…”

My pulse kicks into a rhythm that’s anything but regular when massive black wings rise from behind the limestone building ahead like waves bursting from a steady blue sea.

The majestic eagle soars toward me. Happiness and confusion cripple me to the point where I am speechless.

“What? How?” I shake my head, remembering that detached absence in his gaze. “But I saw his eyes. They were open and lifeless, and his legs were curled… He was dead. Upside-down.”

“It might have appeared that his eyes were open, but that’s his nictitating membrane, little creature.” Rome steps in front of me, casting me in his shadow. “His eyes were closed. At least one of his eyelids was.” He feeds his hand between the curtain of my hair and neck, gripping me, reassuring me. “I couldn’t feel his breath” The memory darkens his gaze. “I could hardly feel my own.”

Showing off for me, Odio soars above my head, twirling and screeching through the haze, the fierce waves of his voice deafening. Disappearing into the red distance, only to reappear, opening up the sky like a black lightning bolt.

Yes, handsome boy, you’re very scary.

I know what I saw… “But?—”

“The Trade still use Gene Therapies, Aster,” Tuscany says, capturing my attention with that terrifying declaration.

Therapies?

She means engineering.

Suddenly Ana’s use of the word treatments echoes in my ears. “Bu- But engineering is illegal. It has been for…” I don’t know why I bother questioning it. Am I that na?ve? The knowledge is there in text and the technology is available and centralised by The Trade. Of course they use it to save lives…

Hopefully, that’s its only Purpose.

Tuscany turns to face me. “Its use is strictly controlled.” Lovely, straight, honey-coloured hair dances across her eyes as she looks up at her brother. “Rome, I want to go on a campaign to visit The Cradle. I want to visit the Trades and thank them for their service. To meet the children in the nurseries and listen to stories. To be a queen and mother, as I was born for. Born For Marble.”

Her demand dissects the conversation.

And I am quite pleased it does.

“You waited until Aster was here to ask me this?” Rome’s brows tighten above his blue gaze. “I thought you would retire thi?—”

“Please.” She lifts her hand. “I do not wish to argue. I have never fulfilled my Purpose. I would like to try. I did not break apart at the compound. I did not disappear. I was not entirely brave, but I would like the opportunity to try again. Will you allow me to try again?”

I look between them, watching Rome stare at her; his angry rebuttals and fears for her safety are dark phantoms pulsing beneath his tight jaw.

Then he finally says, “You will take Kong.”

She closes her eyes on a heavy sigh, relief gushing from her lips. “I have my Army, Sire.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, his face smooths to infallible severity. “You will take Kong. We will not discuss this further. He knows The Cradle. The ruins. And he will die for you.”

“Kong is your Guardian.”

Rome laughs, husky and deep. “He has never been my Guardian, sweet sister. Not since I was young. He has always been yours.”

While they talk, Odio lands at my side like a puff of black smoke, demanding my attention.

“So you will allow it then?” she says. “If I agree to have Kong accompany me?”

Odio approaches me, a long step at a time. I ignore their discussions, captivated by a black angel.

“Hello, handsome boy.” Tears pool in my eyes. “I mourned you. That was very rude of you. Do not do that again.” When I reach out my hand, hesitantly, slowly, he steps straight into my palm.

“I will,” Rome says to Tuscany.

My fingers ruffle Odio’s crest; his feathers clap like trees in the wind, and inside his chest, he purrs with enjoyment.

Extending a long, fluffy leg, he steps even closer, until he can practically wrap his wings around my body. Dropping his line of sight to my belly, he uses his beak to tap the mound, then draws patterns along the swollen surface. Almost as though he is searching for?—

Then the baby in my belly pushes against his beak, halting Odio’s meandering. A limb or foot warps my belly, shoving it outward.

“They are not yours, Odio!” Rome states, his attention now on Odio and me, his voice a velvety growl of authority.

My handsome boy cranes his neck, growing to nearly my height. His eyes narrow in defiance, locked on his king, seconds before he digs his beak into his wing and prunes his feathers. One at a time. As if he is sharpening knives in warning.

Rome grits out, “Attitude. Nice to see you’re back to your usual obstinance.”

A deep rumble vibrates through the air as my king presses his front to my back again, just as Odio takes to the skies. The hairs on my arms rise, the breeze is perfect—conditioned—just like all of us.

Tuscany steps to leave, saying, “I will see you both at mealtime,” but stops. “Oh, Aster, I almost forgot?—”

I look at her.

“Ana is going to join my Army of lovely ladies. She can visit any time you like, but I very much wish to take her with me when I travel The Cradle in the coming months. If she accepts; I would never force her. I know Ana will miss playing with her baby, but she was very loyal to you in the abbey. I believe she will be excellent at this new Trade.”

I nod quickly because I agree. “Thank you.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. A smile rarely creeps that far into Tuscany’s soul. “No, thank you.”

She peels away from us.

“If we have a girl.” I arch my neck, gazing directly up to see Rome’s possessive stare already on me. As if the top of my crown is far prettier than the roses ahead of us. “Can I name her London? Like the old-world city?”

He smiles; it is a soft one just for me. “As long as that name makes you smile while you greet her each first-light and beckon her to bed each last-light. You will be using that name daily.”

That makes me beam.

He means she—or he—will always be with me. Every day. Another reassurance that our children will be raised around these gardens, picking the roses as Odio maps a grid of protection above them.

As we look out over the manicured hill, birds take flight from the unwelcoming forest trees, only to hover just below the threatening Redwind, and I consider my upside-down bird. The lost girl with the honey hair, the boy with the bird he wanted to stroke, and Odio.

My mind dives into the reverie of the baby bird at every chance. It is a hazy memory now but somehow crystal clear. Finding something more vulnerable than myself, in a perfectly conditioned environment, flicked a switch inside me, even at that young age. It made me realise how insignificant we all are. In The Cradle. The Crust.

I have been looking for meaning in this recurring memory for as long as I can remember, but what if there is no meaning.

Just random events.

And my reactions to them.

My upside-down bird is my first question. Maybe I was never meant to have any? My first, what happened and why? And despite my conditioning, this hiccup in my world began an indefinite reel of curiosity.

Curiosity is not a virtue.

Neither is love…

But I feel them anyway.

THE END