I stare at Iris as she pales to behold me. “That’s your ghost girl?” Iris startles. “That’s the girl you keep seeing?”

“Yes,” she agrees. Taking my hand, she says, “Come with me,” guiding me to sit at the table beside her. “A full set. I am so excited. I’ve waited for this day. My lord, whoever he is, could not stop himself from starting early. I wonder who has that kind of hubris to just initiate my rite before a full set is even in The Estate.” She lifts an eyebrow, her message clear—she believes she carries the heir.

I believe so, too.

She is the most beautiful girl in here.

Even compared to Iris.

I try to hide my face as a sinking feeling in my stomach takes over. Our moment—the king’s and mine—in the tank comes to me in strange, curt images; his hand on my face, covering the mask; his eyes drilling me in place, intense to a tangible level; his desire for me, pressing at my backside⁠—

“I thought you were locked away,” Iris blurts out, before shovelling a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “Finally gone completely mad. She has imaginary friends, you know.”

Ignoring her, I look around the table, and a few of the others smile softly, wary but kind, each saying a little hello.

“Locked away…” A blonde girl says. “For what exactly?”

I look at her.

“She is very petite,” a curvier girl adds quickly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. Only it is rare now to see a girl under five-foot-five. How tall are you? What are you measurements?”

Umm.

“Do you not speak?” the blonde presses before I can answer either of them.

“I speak,” I finally get in. “My tongue is healing, and it takes a bit of effort to speak.” I withhold the truth about not having many friends or knowing how to chitchat. Except with a mutated bird… I am a witty conversationalist with him.

The blonde stares. “What is wrong with it?”

Uncertain, I sit down, and they all follow me with their eyes—all four beautiful creatures.

I blink at them, reading. My bully gauge is broken, I can’t tell whether she is taunting me or merely asking a question.

I pick up the spoon beside the oatmeal, steamy ribbons carry exotic spices and honey up my nostrils. I wonder how they came to find such rich fragrances.

“I have a small, erm—” I look at Iris. She is staring at her meal as though her appetite has vanished. “My tongue has a small wound, and it feels a little awkward to speak at the moment. The more I talk, the easier it becomes.”

The curvier one, with lovely rosy cheeks and auburn hair that matches, straightens. “Oooh, can I see your tongue?”

“You can’t just ask her that,” Iris deflects.

“No, that’s okay.” I stick out my tongue, and they take a big breath in.

“Cool,” the curvy girl says. “I’m Blossom. You’re lucky, we were served honey and oatmeal today. Usually, it’s fruit, toast, and eggs. Sometimes soup. I don’t really like eggs, especially because I know where they come from, but they are good for us, so I do eat them.”

The blonde smiles. “I’m Daisy. I’m so glad we are a complete set now, and all so different. That is by design.”

The pregnant one puts her brown hand on my knee, tapping softly. “I’m Lantana, but you can call me Ana. You are the most interesting thing to me. Seriously. I have seen you in the garden, like a wraith. Half doped-up. White skin. Black hair. And you are so lovely, I wanted to stare at you all day. I wasn’t sure that you were real. But my lord whispered to me at night, that you have been through quite an ordeal.”

“Maybe I’m not real.”

They all laugh—except for Iris. I didn’t mean to be funny, but their smiles become contagious. I think my bully gauge is in a state of sleeping.

Maybe this is what being a Silk Girl is meant to be? I wouldn’t mind that at all.

“That was a successful meal,” Paisley says as we walk through the Silk Girl Wing, under arches of wooden rafters adorned with gold and purple licks of metallic. “Follow me. I think it’s time you settle into your forever room in The Circle.”

Forever room.

That means it’s going to happen. A lord will choose me. I’ll grow babies, eat the most glorious food, and dance ballet. My entire life has been leading to this moment.

Floral wallpaper seems to move with us and stop— When we pause, it is outside a guarded door.

“Hello,” Paisley greets, and the man at the door nods. He is dressed in full black, tactical leather armour, his head high, eyes level.

He steps aside, allowing us to enter.

This new room seems to be a kind of holding space with two painted footprints in the centre of the floor. There is another door, and it’s made from an aged wood; I can tell by the veins and burns. Carved into the centre are flowers of all kinds and bird feathers woven through the foliage. Small birds—not eagle feathers.

“I’ll show you what to do.” Paisley walks to the spot, stepping onto the prints. “Stand by the wall.”

Leaning against the wall, I watch as a white beam glides down her body, before beeping.

“What is that?”

“It is to check that I am well. And you, too. The Silk Girls sleep in here. No one enters besides the lords and the Watchers. You each have one. I’m yours. You will need to do that each time you enter and leave The Circle, or the door will not open for you.”

She waves me over. “Your turn.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You won’t feel anything.”

I step up to the prints and place a foot on each. The beam begins to slide down my body, and I feel nothing at all. Can it read my mind? My mind isn’t entirely well. Can it tell I am nervous? My heart is a vigorous little thing in my chest.

It beeps, and I exhale hard.

“One final thing.” She points at a dot on the wall. “Press your upper arm to the dot.”

Breathing shallowly, I walk over and press my arm to the black dot, imagining it might measure me. My weight activates something mechanical inside the wall.

“It will beep twice,” she advises, coming up to me. “Then it gives you a little pin prick.” She holds me still. “Ready?”

Pardon?

Beep.

Beep.

I wince at the little prick.

“See, easy.” She steps aside, giving me space. “Every first-light when you start your day, you must have your shot, or the door will not open for you. It’s a special serum, with a concentration of vitamins and minerals. Formulated specifically for a Silk Girl.”

I rub my upper arm, repeating the tasks in my mind; beam every time I enter or leave; arm prick each first-light when I leave to start my day. I understand. “You don’t get one?”

“I don’t get one. Let’s go.” She guides me through the pretty door, and I brush the wood with my fingertips wondering if the old tree has memories in its splinters. Tales of the sun, heavy winds, and giant birds of prey.

We enter an empty room shaped like a hexagon, with six walls, forming perfect angles. No furniture or décor but for a mural on the floor depicting a colourful garden, reminiscent of the ones outside. It’s peaceful, quiet, and pretty—and without much character.

Is that what I’m to be?

On each angled wall is a closed door. “Six doors,” I breathe softly, scanning the space. “Five Silk Girls and the exit.”

“Yes,” Paisley confirms, walking to what I presume is my bedroom door. “This is called The Circle. I have set your room up already. With your gold sheet, Aster flowers, and the temperature of your shower is set to hot. I’ll leave you to get comfortable.” She looks around, even though we are alone. “I also put a little light reading in your drawer… I know you can read. Lucky girl. This one comes with an illustration.”

I nod, but then she is gone, back through the sixth door and out of sight. I look at the closed door to my room. Blink.