I look over at Paisley. I like her. She wears the cutest dress shirts, in all colours, and trousers that are pleated down the centre. I wonder if she presses them each day.

She has the strangest expression, and I realise I have the rose to my mouth as though I am going to eat it. I cannot have her believe that I’m not better, because I am.

“Are you ready for some supper?” she repeats.

“Yes.” I drop the rose. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? I can’t eat with you today. Sire returns from the trial, and so you’ll be eating with the other Silk Girls for the first time. I need to meet with him and Master Cairo.”

“What needs to be done?” I ask. “Can I help?”

“That’s not your Purpose.” Taking my hand in hers, she says, “Come with me. We can just stand outside, and you can decide if you’re ready to sit with the other Silk Girls. If you are, then I will leave you with them. If you don’t want to, then you can eat in your room just this once.”

I want to be ready.

To prove this, I straighten and keep her pace as we stroll toward their wing on the opposite side of The Estate.

“As you were a little foggy, I didn’t get a chance to give you a tour of The Estate,” she starts as we stride onward. “But you are welcome to enjoy the gardens, and every unlocked door you come to. Stay away from the forest line to the south, there are wild animals in the trees, but don’t be frightened. Sire and his hunters cull them back into the mountains. It's what we eat most days. There are three new greenhouses, best not to go in there or you’ll get in the way of production. The majority of The Estate dates back nearly two thousand years.” As we pass under a stunning archway, she gestures toward it. “The original structure was renewed with unbreakable marble stone, but the integrity of the buildings still shows respect to the old-world. All except the piazza. The late, Turin of The Strait, The Cradle’s longest standing Monarch and Protector, desired a more elaborate piazza, so fifty years ago he completely recreated it with crystal mosaic tiles and water fountains.”

We walk between grand double doors and into the Silk Girl Wing, the scent of lemon growing with each step.

Entering a cloakroom, I remember I’ve not worn a coat. It was imperative whenever we visited the Lower-tower. The wind is sharp there. But here, the breeze swirls my hair and skirting all around my body, rising hairs on my legs and arms, and I quite enjoyed the subtle and playful sensation.

She continues her tour. “You’ll find a library with appropriate reading material in your wing, as well as a room to dance, paint, and do puzzles. And, of course, the birthing suite with the finest luxuries and equipment for your safe delivery.”

We stop outside double wooden doors fitted with square glass peepholes. Perhaps so the house personnel can peer in and see who is eating before entering.

I test it out, squinting through the square window and see a cute dining room painted in dark purple with trimmings and patterns etched into the walls and a large window that shows a long courtyard. Inside, four girls dressed in Paisley’s pleated trousers stand in a corner conversing while four Silk Girls sit around a circular wooden table.

Straight away, I spot Iris, and remember… Like a flickering flame, the hours we spent captured by the Endigos. The blood, the live meat, and her head injury.

I blink, refreshing the sight of her.

She looks different. Softer. Or am I endlessly hopeful she will come around… I gaze between the other girls. Quite the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, and so round in all the right places. Unlike me.

“Enchanting, aren’t they?” Paisley says humbly. “A full set including yourself. Trade be kind, each will have at least three babies. A girl, a boy, and a spare.”

I cover my mouth when I see a lovely, dark girl is already pregnant, her beautiful round stomach stretches her silken dress, and crumbs dust the area in a playful way.

I’ve never seen a pregnant Silk Girl in real life. She does look as though she is glowing but then it is very luminous in that room with the large window offering crown-light, the hazy yellows bathing them and the table.

“She has Meaningful Purpose.” My voice is breathy with awe. “Is that baby the king’s?” I don’t know why I ask, but my stomach tugs as I do.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Paisley whispers.

I look up at her. “I don’t know. Is that wrong to ask?”

“I thought that was in your studies?”

“What was in my studies?” My eyes widen. There is something I don’t know. “I didn’t finish. Is it important?” She looks shocked, so I continue, “Please don’t tell anyone that I asked. Just pretend I didn’t.”

“It’s okay.” She touches my shoulder. “I’ll tell you, so don’t ask that question again and give yourself away.” She looks through a different square hole at the girls eating around the wooden table. “The four Silk Girls in there are for his Collective, four plus Sire.”

“I don’t understand.” I swallow. “They share?”

“Share your womb? No, that would be messy.” She laughs a little. “How would they know which one is the heir if they all put their seed inside every girl? They share the sight of you, but they do not share your womb.”

I blink at her. “I still don’t understand.”

“All the Silk Girls are treated the same. All the babes are raised the same. To protect the heir, he is only revealed when he turns eighteen. A child is a frightfully fragile creature. No one can be trusted. No need to put a target on one.”

“So, who knows?”

She keeps her voice low. “Only The Trade Master knows all, and the lord knows which child is his, as he picks his Silk Girl, but they do not know of each other’s babe.”

I nod my understanding. “And the Silk Girl.”

“She will never know. That is utterly important.”

“I’m sorry.” I stare at her, confused. That can’t be right. “I must be hearing you wrong. How is that possible?”

She pulls me to the side, away from the wooden door, lowering her voice further. “How do you not know what happens when he comes to you at night?”

“We learn of the night in the last six months of training. It is private until then. And I didn’t finish. I was in the crash and now I am here, and my head is fuzzy.”

She touches my cheek, drawing me back to her. “I like you, Aster. It’s going to be okay. Don’t ask questions as a rule. It’s best that way. You’ll wear a beautiful solid, silk veil, Aster. When a lord visits you at night and gives you Meaningful Purpose, you won’t know who he is. This way, there is no jealousy or favouritism, and the heir’s safety is kept to the highest degree. When you give birth, the child will be taken to a Sired Mother to raise and nurse, and you will return to your Meaningful Purpose until you have given your lord at least two boys and one girl. If he likes you, maybe more.”

I nod slowly. I knew that last bit. That I wouldn’t raise the child, but I thought I would know the lineage. But then, it is not mine. It’s The Cradle’s. It’s all of ours.

I look at my hands, remembering why I have to get well. Why I have to be sane and clear. Because once I have fulfilled my Purpose, and if I am very good and lucky, I will be a Sired Mother and look after the babies of The Cradle until I am old.

“Are you ready to enter and meet the girls?” Paisley asks, walking back to the door.

I wonder what Iris will think…

“It’s okay,” she says straightaway, thankfully, because I don’t know how to answer her. If they are anything like Iris, Lavender, or Ivy, then I am not ready to meet them.

She guides me back to the door. “I will see you after your meal and take you to your forever room.”

I force myself to nod, and she opens the door for me.

The girls look up as I slowly walk in.

“I’ve seen you in the garden!” the pregnant one says, bouncing to her feet as though she isn’t carrying a boulder under her silk dress. “You’re feeling better then?”