Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Aster

Silk Girl Vows:

For The Cradle, I will be irresistible to my lord. I must be unmatched in my sweetness, a stunning landscape for his gaze, and a constant in his mind's eye. His indifference toward me would be my greatest failure.

I exhale hard and stroll toward the crowded Estate piazza beside the other new Silk Girls selected for His Collective of lords; Ana cradles her belly unaffected and content; Daisy strokes her collarbone, drawing every gaze to her lush chest; Blossom moves with a sway that creates a pendulum with her ample hips; and Iris flicks the red tendrils of her hair as often as she can, showcasing the heart-stopping colours.

I gaze back at Paisley and Island, who wave me onward and mouth, “Go.” I turn to face forward again as a line from my vows beats between my ears: ‘his indifference toward me would be my greatest failure.’

A glassy pond, lined with tiny blue and white stones, separates us from the entrance, but large rectangular platforms, arranged strategically, create a route over the water.

We step over them and then pass through an arch, gushing with vibrant pink and purple vines that crawl across the ceiling and frame the wide entrance.

And I gasp, as the piazza opens up, a space that blurs the line between reality and fantasy.

At my feet, a scene is depicted in mosaic tiles, it’s The Cradle, from the mysterious Horizon across The Strait to Aquilla, where at the southernmost point, The Estate resides.

As I move, the land shifts as the plates have moved over time. I get dizzy and level my eyes, instantly awe-struck by the strange people, dressed in costumes, painted in gold and bronze, drinks sparkling like diamonds, waiters and acrobats and musicians. Wow. Too much to take in; it is truly a test in overstimulation.

It's peculiar how so many people can be in one place, so rowdy and occupied with the festivities, yet the presence of attention on us is undoubtable.

I feel him before I see him. He is far away, atop an elevated platform, sitting on a deep purple throne made from leather with studded accentuations.

He hasn’t seen me yet.

The vision of effortless power, Rome of The Strait wears black, from his shirt, fixed with leather and metal plates at the chest and shoulders, to his lush cloak and metal-capped boots. He appears as gorgeous and unaffected as he does in all of his portraits.

Sighing, I acknowledge it’s a different demeanour to the one I remember in the parlour and in the military vehicle. So much that I feel I may have made up the regard I saw in the dark depths of his blue eyes.

“ Trade be , he is handsome,” Blossom sighs, her eyes glued ahead, just like mine.

“Too handsome,” I point out, then frown at the empty seat to his side. That’s the queen’s seat, I’m certain. I search the festival, wanting more than anything to see her in the flesh. A bespoken beauty, I have been told, age-defying, too.

I turn to Ana. “The queen?”

Ana shakes her head. “She is so often unwell.”

“What do we do now?” Daisy asks, fidgeting with the long ends of her blonde hair.

“We could play a game,” Blossom offers.

“We are on display,” Iris spits out.

“So what? We can still play.” Ana waves at the bright red lights of a game called One Heartbeat.

We wander over to it and watch the people before us play.

It appears the point is to grab the heart at the bottom of a dark, black velvet hole before the machine grabs hold of your hand.

“You’re not meant to actually get the heart,” Ana states. “It’s just a little test of courage.”

“I don’t like this game,” Daisy says, her cheeks paling. “I think I will just watch.”

Some people before us are afraid to reach in, others try but then retract their hands with a squeal when the hole closes, and more get their hands stuck in the tight grasp of the machine. It is a game of speed and timing.

I place my hand over my chest and feel my heart beating inside.

Budum.

Budum.

When it’s my turn, I watch the gap closely for a few moments, counting my heartbeat in my ears, focused. I brace my hand at the entrance—wait. I dive in. Snatch the heart and whisk it out, still beating in my palm.

I hold it up.

The blood from the organ begins to spill over my fingers, and the girls gasp as it appears to be real. A real heart still very active, thrashing between my fingers.

“Drop it,” Iris cries, but I barely hear her.

I’m staring at it so hard, the thing still thrashing, oozing fluid, that I don’t notice everyone has gone quiet.

Then I hear a long, drawn-out screech from the skies above me. A shadow moves over the festival, darting, then darkening the ground that circles the place where I stand.

Everyone except Ana cowers away from the ominous shadow, retreating to the safety of the lit areas of the piazza.

The shadow tunnels in, a dark entity homing in on me. I look up and inhale a sharp breath.

The underside of Odio quickly descending through the haze is a sight that snatches air from inside my lungs. His wings are black and brown, but for a silvery sheen that appears to almost sparkle.

His massive talons pound the ground as he lands, his body low to take the impact until he straightens, standing at my height. Eye to eye.

He stares at me.

I still hold the heart in my hand, but it has stopped beating, while my own heart races in my ears to replace the rhythmic countdown.

“Get her out of there,” I hear someone mutter, but I am not afraid of Odio… Should I be?

“Aster,” Ana whispers from close to my side, and time appears to slow as I sweep my arm back, tucking her behind me so that I stand between Odio and my pregnant friend.

Against my nerves, I step toward the great winged deity, presenting the heart for him to take. “I had a friend like you,” I say, soothing, “in the Aquilla Silk Aviary.”

I inch closer, and everyone gasps again.

“He was a vicious thing, not at all royal like you are.” I take another step, my fingers and the heart a mere nail’s length away from his razor-sharp beak. “You’re such a handsome boy.” Odio cocks his head from side to side, eyes piercing like the perfect predator he is.

My hand shakes violently, so I steady my breath again, and control the tremors of adrenaline. I know he could take my hand off in a heartbeat—one heartbeat.

I turn my face slightly, gaze at him sideways, and then blink to let him know I’m relaxed.

Budum.

He plucks the heart from my grasp without even touching my fingers and pushes off the ground, wings whooshing the air around me.

I pant with excitement and relief, euphoria riding my exhale. I beam up as the beautiful creature coasts over the heads of The Estate guests, blood from the heart dripping a long crimson trail through the air like a pretty ribbon. My world is spinning, and the thrill makes me dizzy.

Finally, my mind aligns with my surroundings when I level my gaze and notice no one else shares my expression of awe and delight. I blink at the sudden change in mood. The festival and the other guests are all startled, gaping at me.

Dammit. I circle around to face the platform and freeze.

He has noticed me now…

Targeted me.

Rome has risen from his throne, scowling across the crowded piazza with a rifle perfectly ready to take me down.

I swallow.

I gape at the nose of the weapon, only now feeling fear dripping through my veins like a poison that burns in the wake of its travels. I hold my breath, and he lowers his aim slowly. I exhale hard.

Would he have shot me?

For feeding his eagle?

For the disturbance?

He continues to stare across the space at me. My pulse vibrates in my throat, and time stretches… Then he sits down and turns his head as a woman whispers something in his ear.

A beat of noise shocks me as the festival returns to full activity, musicians making music again, the rides whirling around, people chattering and moving.

“Aster.” Ana grabs my arm and turns me around. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you drop the heart?”

“Was I meant to?” I ask, confused, as she starts wiping my bloody fingers with the underside of her skirt.

“See”—Iris huffs, throwing her arms in the air— “she is so weird. She nearly got us all killed by that beast, and now everyone thinks that I am with her.”

Ana studies me quietly.

“I didn’t want to be placed with her at all,” Iris continues, and I look at the ground, wishing I’d just dropped the heart or not played at all. He was willing to shoot me—My king was going to shoot me down in front of everyone! All my elation over seeing Odio fizzles to shame.

“I didn’t want to be anywhere near her,” Iris continues to drive her message home. “The king saw! I was next to her. I am mortified. She is odd, and she ruins?—”

“Let’s get something to eat,” Blossom offers, stopping Iris mid-break-down by rubbing her back. “Yeah? I can smell warm chocolate and butter. That means cakes or brownies. Ever eaten those before?”

Into the last-light, we stand at the side of a high, granite banquet table in a smaller dining room lit from above with lights strung together by twisted gold satin garlands. The table is chest height. For them. For the Xin De that make us feel like a different species altogether.

It is much quieter in here, but the vibrant activities still flitter through the open double doors.

I chew on a brownie, absentminded. He was going to shoot at me. That is how little I mean, we all mean, until we have Meaningful Purpose. Would he have raised the gun if I’d been pregnant? I know the answer. Very few are as precious as a pregnant Silk Girl.

He cared in the tank.

He seemed to care.

He doesn’t care…

My king… Lies. His eyes lie. My heart twists. I remember what Island and Paisley said about the fruit, so as silly as I feel, I reach across and grab some strawberries.

We all felt the heat of attention when we first arrived, the lords’ taking us in as they might a flock of birds, but it isn’t until this moment that I actually see them.

They are hard to miss.

Down the length of the table, three men with the purple Trade sigil pinned to their cloaks, watch us and speak quietly amongst themselves. Each has a high Xin De genus; being well over six-foot-five inches, eyes like glowing beacons, and muscles that any Common man would cower from.

I have memorised them from my studies; Lord Medan, white skin and dark hair, the shortest and smallest, from the Upper-tower; Lord Bled with warm, brown skin and striking amber eyes, from the Lower-tower; And Lord Darwin, being the oldest by far, showing hints of true aging, greying and fine lines that often remain hidden until a Xin De reaches sixty or so, from the Half-tower on The Mainland.

The only one missing is Lord Turin Two, the king’s half-brother, spare heir for The Cradle and Warden of The Estate.

Be irresistible.

Feeding a bloody heart to Odio wasn’t quite what I wanted to be the everlasting image in his, I mean, their mind’s eye. I bury the thought of the king, ram it down because I will have Meaningful Purpose with or without his affections.

So, I lift a strawberry and bite into it, the juices sliding over my lips. I can feel the liquid trailing down my chin just as keenly as I feel the heat of their eyes tracking its path.

“Allow me.”

My heart pounds in my ears as I spin around and peer up, met by the smooth smile of Lord Darwin. He manages the southernmost Fishing Trade, though the Half-tower is notoriously corrupt and often dangerous.

Getting all too close, he lifts his thumb to my lip. “You’ve made a mess. What is it about you, then? That has the king rescuing you himself, I wonder.”

I blink fast and shuffle from foot to foot, immediately uncomfortable, realising I’m in no way prepared to be touched by a man I do not know.

How can that be?

Iris was right—I am odd. I was more content with blood dripping down my fingers than with this man’s thumb on my lower lip. Closing my eyes, I inhale steadily to not offend him by flinching under his attention.

He’s wiping the juices, moving my lip beneath his thumb as he does when the curt voice of a nearby Guard booms. “Do not touch the Silk Girls.”

My pulse races as His gaze hits me like lightning cracking through a dark tunnel.

I search for him, feeling him acutely in every cell, but don’t find him. My hands immediately start to sweat, unsettled by the feeling of being watched.

“Everyone out while I eat,” Rome suddenly orders, a slow but thundering timbre to match the storm his presence brews around me.

Everyone heads quickly for the door.

I drop the strawberries and trail them.

“Not you,” he states, and I look up to find him sauntering toward me with his dark leather armour partly open, exposing a long triangle valley of tattoos down his hard, carved chest.

I grip the table to steady myself.

There is no fuss from the guests. The other Silk Girls leave; Ana glances over her shoulder; Daisy and Blossom duck away quietly; Iris smirks, enjoying that I am in trouble.

Lord Bled holds the door open as all other guests pass through the frame, and then he closes it behind him.

The door clicks, and within a second, Rome is hovering over me. One of his huge hands is gripping my hip and spinning me to face the banquet table.

He slides a hand between my thighs and lifts me from my core. Slinging me over the table, he presses my torso down, my cheek stamping the glossy top, heavy exhale misting the surface.

My legs dangle.

Toes try to find the ground.

“You’ll learn that some attention is not good for little girls,” he hisses.

I gasp, squirming under the weight of his large palm, only my backside moving while I don’t stand a chance to wriggle free. He’s so large, even larger now that he is angry with me for disturbing his party.

“I’m sorry about Odio,” I whimper.

“Always answering back.”

Holding me still, he slides his hand down to my thigh, then runs his fingers to lift my skirting up until my backside is bare. He spanks the flesh.

I cry out. “I said I was sorry!”

“Always speaking out of turn. Did I give you permission to speak? Did I give you permission to touch my pet or share your lips or smile with other men?”

I’m so confused but too scared to think straight. “No, my king. You didn’t.”

Reckless. Reckless girl.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and he spanks me again, harder this time, a sting racing through my flesh and jolting me.

“Not so clever now, are you?” He slaps me again. I can only imagine his true strength could break bones.

My pelvis pulses against the table as he rains down slap after slap to my flesh. Warmth radiates across my backside, and though I want the sudden shock of it to stop, I don’t want any distance from him. I want this. His hand. His honest reactions that aren’t ritualistic or Updates for The Cradle. The stolen moments, I live for them with him.

I whimper on the table as he shifts to stand right behind me. He presses his hips to my backside, blanketing me in the heat from his body.

My eyes flash open when the hard, long muscle protruding his hips presses to the crease between my cheeks.

That is not the size I have seen in my Anatomy of Man textbook.

I start to pant.

His sprawling hands map my spine and the sides of my body, touching, taking me in, inch by inch, as he thrusts against me through our clothes.

I moan. The way he touches me, grips me with force and possession, stirs my insides, wringing and coiling a bundle of nerves, low and demanding.

“Fuck, you’re making me do dangerous things. Do you have any idea what men like me do to little things like you? You shouldn’t be so eager to get attention. The only thing that protects you from being destroyed by me is your precious womb, do you understand? I could break you in two.”

I nod fast with my cheek flush against the marble. The strange tight, aggressive feeling of need inundating me, hissing to be heard and tended to. My body flushes hotter than I’ve ever felt before. Feverish. Frightening.

“I feel strange, my king. Sick. Hot. Please, stop.” Reeling, I push my backside into him, then roll forward to the edge of the table to ebb the pressure between my thighs. Moisture gathers in my knickers, hot and wet.

He lets out a long groan, savage. “That’s not what you think it is, Silk Girl. You’re not sick. You’re ovulating.” I feel his words in my bones. He strokes the new blemish on my backside, the span of his hand a blanket of rough, warm skin.

He grinds into me one more time, then stops. His hands leave my body, and my skin prickles—mourns—the heat from his palms. I blink, trying to centre my thoughts.

“I have him,” a man says from outside the room.

“Very good .” Rome breathes rough and rolls me on the table to face him.

Through my daze, I peer up at him but am immediately slung over his shoulder. He strides to his chair at the end of the room, carrying me like an inanimate object.

He sets me on the floor in front of it.

Blinking, I think about what to do. I know, adore, pleasure… I have been told what men like; I am not innocent to the mechanics of it. Just inexperienced.

I try desperately to ignore the warm, wet sensation between my legs.

His hand meets the top of my crown, petting me as he sits on the chair with his legs spread wide and my place between them. Shuffling closer, I find myself almost purring into his leg and thigh as I settle.

I am always on edge.

Guessing what people think.

Judging my own presence.

My bully gauge activated.

But the stroke of his fingers through my crown somehow spreads calm through my entire being, my shoulders lowering, my spine relaxing, a resting smile forming. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a resting smile before… I feel it in my chest like air. It’s different to a lively one. It’s so perfectly content; some merely surviving life may never wear one.

All rationale tells me to stay still and not speak, but I risk a glance up at him. Up his legs, two pillars of muscles, to the hard plane of his torso. I look at his face, expression focused ahead on the door. His jaw is clenching and unclenching, his blue eyes shadowed by fierce brows. The threat in his face flicks inside me, my nipples tightening.

I wrap my arms around them.

“Ovulating…” I whisper to myself, the word trailing to a pause. It’s time. Tonight or tomorrow. That is why I am at this party. Why the lords have travelled to The Estate.

We begin breeding soon.