Chapter 16 #2
“There are dozens of indoor greenhouses inside the Lower-tower walls. Most of the Lower-tower is young, less than two hundred years old.” She stops in the centre of a map carved into the ground at her feet, her small ballet slippers standing on a spot marked the Hall.
“The further out you travel from the centre, the more Redwind you’ll find,” she says, pointing to the huge ring of outer lands encasing the Hall.
“It's recommended that if you visit, you wear a cloak and Redwind mask. Even with your Xin De genes, my queen, it’s better to be cautious. It is safe, and we house most of The Cradle’s artists, engineers, and visionaries.
I imagine you will be quite the muse for them.
You’re so beautiful. You suit the Lower-tower, my queen.
We have a very special tower, only—” She giggles again.
“Windy. As you can see, the heart is better shielded, and the Hall is fashioned with glass domes and tunnels, giving the feel of being outside while protected.”
With one last smile, she turns and walks us through a tunnel. The walls become a purple colour, adorned with gold trimmings and shimmering chandeliers.
She halts outside double-doors. “Your suite, my queen.” She looks at my Army ladies. “I will show you to your rooms; follow me.”
Essen stops beside me. “Do you need anything, my queen?”
“No,” I say, but feel my body vibrate with need—to relax my muscles, my secret smile, my lungs. “Rest. That is all.”
Kong opens the door to my suite and holds it. “I need to check the room over, my queen. Perhaps Essen, Brook, and Ana can get some rest as well.”
Overstimulation is an interesting thing. Remaining in control when overwhelmed is akin to a coil that steadily turns. It is not until the final few rotations that pressure arises, that tightness threatens.
“You have one minute,” I advise Kong, and walk into the grand suite. Like the rest of the Tower, greenery is a prominent feature, with roses growing up the four bedposts.
No drapes.
As Kong moves around the room, scrutinising it, checking behind floor-to-ceiling gold curtains, inspecting the windows, its luxurious size seems to shrink.
I sit on the edge of the bed and wait. Sighing, I gaze at my fingers in my lap.
I’m not sure I have enough energy for a gathering so soon, but it’s necessary and traditional for the people to celebrate my arrival in their tower.
I can’t deny them something they’ve probably been anticipating for months, even years.
Suddenly, Kong steps in front of me and drops to his haunches with a bowl of fruit, nuts, and cheese gripped in front of him.
My breath catches.
We are eye to eye, and… This happens so rarely, I’d almost forgotten how dark his irises are; the colour of tiger’s-eye. Blacks, browns, and oranges.
“Eat,” he demands.
“I’m not hungry—”
“And I am not leaving until I see you eat.” He picks up a block of cheese with his fingers, not a utensil. There isn’t one.
I’m about to protest, stand and point to the door, but— I don’t have it in me.
Closing my eyes, I open my lips, and he puts a block of cheese between them. I move it around, despising the sensation, then swallow.
When I open my eyes again, Kong’s pupils have dilated further, absorbing the toffee ring of colours.
“Good girl,” he purrs.
My nipples pebble beneath my dress, and a pulse begins lower—much lower. That sound… It’s so predatory. Xin De are engineered with animal traits; it’s never more obvious than when that sound—a growl, a rumble, a purr—resounds from somewhere primal within them.
“Another?” he says, voice thick.
That sense of presence, of here and now, falls on my shoulders again, grounding. I nod, and he lifts a berry to my lips.
“Open.”
I don’t close my eyes this time. Parting my lips to accept the small blue morsel, I stare at him, so close, a breath away, revelling in a level of intensity I shouldn’t allow nor want.
Inadvertently, I close my lips over the tip of his thumb and finger, a breath becoming a moan somewhere up my throat.
His dark gaze drops to my mouth, his jaw muscles pulsing.
But I remember…
He didn’t want me.
He rejected you.
Shame and hurt spread through me like poison. Shame that parts of me still clutch at the seams of a moment so special to me, yet so disgraceful and accidental to him.
Suddenly, a knock on the door saves me. Flustered and angry with a sudden heat that seems everywhere, I shoot to my feet and rush to the door.
"Leave,” I say to Kong, with a deep sense of disappointment I try to hide. Turning from where he is on his knees for me, I swing open the door to the large presence of Lord Bled.
“Bled,” I say, way too airy, not having realised quite how out of breath I clearly am. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
"My queen, I was keeping up appearances out there and…” His voice trails to a pause as he notices the huge Xin De Guardian approach from within my suite. “My apologies. Am I interrupting something?”
“Kong was inspecting my room.”
“Of course,” he states, a twitch of mischief hitting the corner of his mouth.
He steps inside the room, holding a small box. Pressing his back to the wall so Kong can pass, I sense the wariness beating from my Guardian. Without looking at him, I shut the door the moment he is over the threshold.
I exhale hard but force my secret smile into place. "Please call me Tuscany in private. I've seen you eat your own scab on a dare."
"It was your brother who dared me."
I huff with amusement. "I remember." Walking to a glass table wide enough for six, I gesture toward a chair. “Please. Sit.”
"This is good”—he takes the seat— “You being here. This is where you should be, at the Lower-tower. It all happens here. I know you need to present yourself in a certain way, rally support and inspire. Make the people feel good about their Meaningful Purpose. That is the point of this campaign. But… also meet The Trade Painters. Designers. Engineers. Experience this life. It is quite beautiful.”
I sigh; he makes it sound so simple.
I’m here to discover secrets. Yet, there is no reason I cannot also notice the good things, the pleasant, the grand parts of The Cradle.
I lift my chin and nod.
He isn’t buying something, eyes cutting a course across my face, sympathetic suspicion drawing his brows in.
"I want you to feel free here to do as you please.
But I am no fool; I understand we are political beings—you and me.
So, I will cancel the celebration if you wish…
Or you could wear this." He lifts the box and sets in on the table.
"I know of your sensitivities... Rome never speaks of it, and I would never ask, but I know what it takes to carve a queen. This will give you anonymity."
He slides it over to me. I open the box and inhale. Inside is a gold mask with delicate filigree accents framing each eyehole. Five thin chains act as straps to hold the piece in place, adding detail to the back of the head. "It's beautiful."
"You'll need to cover your hair. "
I lift my gaze from the mask and lock eyes with him. "Rome would have a heart attack,” I say, half-joking, yet aware of the truth behind my words.
"You leave Rome to me."
Anonymity? "Who am I, then?"
Lord Bled leans back in his chair, a kind gaze stroking me with gentle intent. "Who do you wish to be?"
Whole.
The word rolls around in my mind. I huff out a mirthless laugh. Sad. "Just Common.”
"Well, with your eyes, you won't pass as Common, my queen. You’re clearly Xin De, but you could pass as an Enchanter, perhaps."
An Enchanter; a type of entertainer.
Something akin to exhilaration stirs inside me, then the weight of distrust ceases it. "Will you paint my skin?"
"Rome doesn't have Enchanters at The Estate, does he?" he asks.
I set the gold mask down. I couldn’t possibly. Could I? "They are just a kind of Entertainment Trade?”
"Yes. But I don’t think of my personnel as just Trades. They are my family, and they enjoy my taste for the lavish. I spoil them, and they spoil me.” His tone is full of contentment and fondness.
"We have House Girls, of course. The Guards need relief." I muse, missing my brother as I say, "Rome isn't interested in anyone other than Aster these days.”
"Yes.” Bled seems impressed. “The king who broke the mould. See, an Enchanter is one of my virgins who owns her own body. We paint her with flowers. No one can touch her. If they do, the paint will smudge, and I will know. She represents self-love.”
‘I want to love myself’, a little voice inside me says.
"That's not— I don’t know… self-important?” I ask, having been conditioned to serve the collective, not myself.
"That's feminism,” he confirms.
"No wonder Rome doesn't like it,” I quip, only speaking candidly for Bled.
He laughs from his chest. "Yes. Your brother was built to reign; patriarchal ideals are at his core.” A soft smile—a truthful one—forms on his lips. “Please, I want to see you relax. You can eat, watch, pretend. Do as you wish."
"I will need to tell Kong.”
“I will tell your Guardian once you have already joined the celebration, so it’ll be too late for him to stop you.”
Would he stop me?
“I’ve never done anything like this before. Would it be… I don’t know, untoward?”
"I won’t tell if you don’t.” His brow lifts playfully. “While I like to see all aspects of life, like to see the people who live in my Hall smile, and, well, I'm sort of a fiend, I would do nothing to make you uncomfortable, Tuscany.”
A heavy weight leaves me at the sound of my name… Tuscany. For a lovely moment, he is just Bled, and I am just Tuscany, and we are merely conversing outside the shackles of Crown and Trade. “Do you like your position, your Trade, Lord Bled?"
"Lord of Procurement?” Bled beams, white teeth flashing. “Warden of The Lower-tower?” He opens his arms. “Well, of course. I am the man who can get anything.”
With that, he rises to his feet and walks toward the exit. "Will I see you in flowers? Shall I send in my dears to get you ready?"
I look at the gold mask, glimmering with possibilities, whispering of a night similar to this conversation. No expectations or rules or station. A mask for a crown.
I find myself nodding. "Yes."
Bled leaves the suite, closing me inside. For the first time in two days, I am alone.
Thoughts of the men at the dam roll in my mind.
I was simply a woman in that moment—their words in my ears had no consequence.
They shared them willingly with each other.
If I am one of them, just a Trade Girl, could I use the situation to my advantage?
There will be hundreds of high-ranking citizens, people in the know, with their fingers in dealings.
This last-light, I won’t need Ana to listen to whispers and join in gossip. I will be able to do it myself.