Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Rome

Closing my eyes in the square of the old-world abbey, only to open them in the highest tech laboratory in The Cradle, is quite the fucking contrast.

Access to this underground centre beneath the Trade-tower requires a biometric scan, but doctors continue to crowd inside to view their king’s latest additions. No—e nhancements. Aster called them enhancements, so that is what they are.

As I stare at my reflection, bare chest and dark pants, it dawns on me that I appear more like my father, Turin of The Strait, than ever before. Huge. Broad across the chest, carved and marred; long arms and massive hands that have felt death. Titanium plate in my left shoulder. Magnesium alloy in my shin.

Bullets as trophies.

This is what a king looks like.

At least, that is what I always believed.

Eyes scale my form. Watch each large breath. My new lung has the doctors nodding approvingly. The success of it is mainly due to its biocompatibility—Xin De genus approved.

This laboratory is spacious yet utilitarian. The walls leading to the centre are painted dark grey, and the corridor lights are dim—a warren of ambiguity. However, inside the research areas, the overhead beams spot even the dust.

My monstrous size casts a shadow. I peer down at it, grief striking, sinking its essence into my cells like a poisoned blade. Odio. My shadow for nearly two decades. Dead. Gone.

Shutting my eyes, I breathe through the anguish in my chest. The restricting pressure. I fight the urge to clutch at it.

I remind myself that Aster is safe. Imagine her face, her smile, her lips, her soft body writhing beneath mine, visions that will ease this tight, painful mourning.

She is safe…

Aster and Tuscany have been escorted back to The Estate under Kong’s watchful guard… I don’t like it, but if I trust any man, it is him.

I fucking love her.

I stare at myself, frowning.

So, while I appear more like Turin in this moment, I am nothing like him. I feel deep affection, deep jealousy, and deep rage. My temper has always been a problem; I was never apathetic.

Rome of The Strait.

The Volatile King.

“We require some privacy.” Cairo approaches, dressed in his purple robe, strolling smoothly, unhurried, circling me like a noose as the doctors leave the room.

“You look like a king, Sire.” He muses. “I always know where you are. When I heard of the storm, I sent tanks out after you.”

“Very considerate.”

He laughs and stops in front of me. “I will keep you alive, Sire. It is my duty to The Cradle. And you happen to have a pregnant Silk Girl and the queen with you. Traveling with very precious possessions. I am surprised, given your affection for them both.”

The knowing words slide through me, weigh me down, heavy with meaning. “Say it, Cairo.”

His brows lift to his hairline. “Have I ever lied to you, Rome?”

“I have never caught you.”

He laughs again. “You are lying to me.”

“Aster and I?—”

His lip quirks. “Aster and I?”

Turning to face him, I widen my stance, expanding my shadow until it creeps toward his shoes. “Will keep our heirs in The Estate,” I continue, staunch. “We will raise them. They will each be given an eagle and a Guardian. This is the way I want it. And the Silk Girls from her Collective will have access to their babies.”

He stares at me, a smile sliding into place. Fit for a Trade Master. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I told you I know you, and it is true. Part of my Trade is to understand you, your motivations and your needs.” He clasps his hands at his waist. “If we put babes in citizen’s arms, the people are weak. If we allow Silk Girls to nurse, we lose them as breeders. Girls cannot focus on a man when a babe is present. History shows this.”

I deadpan, give nothing away.

For once.

“But put all that aside,” he adds, standing with seamless confidence despite my towering physique. “We are also still healing the land. The ruins have communities in the thousands. Tens of thousands in Ruins E. And across The Mainland, the Half-tower regresses, and pockets of land are overrun with Endigo, unmonitored and uncharted. We do not have the resources to warden them all, so as long as they remain peaceful, we leave them to their own devices. Correct? Use them when we need, but The Cradle is dangerous. You have just experienced this—what happens when a Silk Girl and a queen play outside the pretty walls we built for them.”

A heavy sigh leaves me.

He continues, “The babies must be kept safe at all costs. No one can know where they are kept. We cannot allow visitors in the nurseries.”

His monotone lecture causes my upper lip to curl and a depthless growl to slip through my teeth. With blood or bargain, I will have this. “I am not asking. I am demanding.”

“A king demands.” Cairo takes me in. “A king claims. Rome, you want to change hundreds of years of law. This is not an easy task.”

Volatility prowls inside me. “It won’t be the first time a king changes the rules to suit his own interests.”

“No.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It won’t. I saw this conversation. I have been finding it hard to convince myself that the reasons we keep the babes safe apply to you…”

I lift my chin.

“The Estate is the safest place in The Cradle,” he states matter-of-factly. “So… For the babes born in The Estate, I do not see why we cannot run a test. See if it is feasible and does not interrupt the flow of production and procedures. We can alter some protocols, add extra measures, extra Guards, and allow the Silk Girls from your Collective visitation rights once a day to spend with the babies.”

That will make her smile.

“And in your case.” He eyes me. “As the heir is known, the safest place is by his father’s side. I cannot disagree. This is what I can offer you. What I will approve, no, support …”

But then, his pause thickens the air.

“In exchange for something for myself.”

Of course.

“ I want a succession.”

And there it is. His motivation. For fucking the redheaded Silk Girl in The Circle. For his leniency with Aster.

He premeditated this.

Fucker.

Kong’s sarcastic inference thunders in my mind. “What a successful campaign, then? It couldn’t have gone any better if Cairo had planned it himself.”

Cairo must have seen Aster and me in the Parlour the day we met. Paid the Endigo to flip the van, take her, and hold her…

Knowing full well that I was at Breaker Ledge—that I would want to continue my bloodshed from the war, because… He. Knows. Me.

Fuck.

And when I didn’t want to breed with her, when I spoke of keeping her as a plaything, he pushed me, fuelling me with jealousy by threatening to give her to another, and made me claim her…

He left The Estate.

Left me to fall in love.

I shake my head, fisting my hands at my sides, reeling in this knowledge.

As always, I do not know whether to be impressed, angry, or thrust my fucking fist through his chest cavity and draw out his pumping heart.

As if reading my thoughts, he says, “You have Aster. Without me, you would not. So when I die, I want my heirs to inherit my Trade.”

Never in the history of The Cradle has a Trade Master been granted this; it is incomprehensible. Dangerous. The most powerful person in the game of chess is the player. In The Cradle’s present state, The Trade Master is appointed by the lords, keeping us all connected and valued. He is then bestowed phenomenal control—all The Cradle’s secrets and the protection of the Shadows.

Luckily, the player changes.

Fortunately, a new Trade Master can be appointed after a natural death. This keeps order in the land. Balance. It keeps us all in check.

He isn’t asking for an heir.

He isn’t asking for a legacy.

He is asking for The Cradle.

I stare at him, my hand twitching to pull that beating organ through his ribcage and watch the blood spurt to the pulse of his dying heart.

“We are twin pillars,” he says, pressing. “The Crown and The Trade. That does not change, Sire.”

With blood or bargain…

I grit my teeth. “I will speak with the lords. Bled, Medan, Turin Two. I will support your right to a legacy, and they will agree.”

“If they do not?”

My brows tighten. “They will.”

Cairo nods and turns, walking through the spacious laboratory toward the exit. He pauses with his hand on the sensor. A green light on the wall glows, prefacing a click from inside the security door.

He looks back at me, a smooth smile on his lips. The kind that offers no sentiment, merely confidence. “Did they tell you, Sire? I saved the eagle for you. Odio. He had a wisp of life left, enough for us…” His pause is heavy. “I authorised stem cell rehabilitation, as we did with your lung. We gifted him a titanium metatarsus and ulna and put him in an incubator. When your lung has been properly observed and approved, you will be ready to return to The Estate, and he will be ready to fly above you.”