Turin Two, my half-brother, stares at me, not intimidated as he knows that even I have my limits—executing my brother is one of them. “Why?”

The words “because I can” are on my tongue when Cairo saunters in answering him in the fashion Cairo is best known for, “For the good of The Trade,” with irrevocable reasoning.

He grips the edge of his seat and nods to each member of my Collective in acknowledgment. He is very good at pretending he respects them. Perhaps he does, in a way. “He is in coalition with rogues. We had to put a stop to it. Rome actioned it while everyone enjoyed the festivities, and no one is the wiser.”

Interesting…

I smirk. “For The Trade.”

Bled shakes his head, chuckling softly, as Turin Two continues, “And what of the Half-tower? They won’t like this at all. They may come to The Estate.”

“They do harbour most of our warships,” Bled states, smoothing his hands out on the table, his fingers admiring the grain and organic motions of authentic, ancient wood. Yes, I know this about him. He is a tactile man. “I just acquired a massive Ice Breaker for them to hunt the sharks. They can venture far and attack us directly from the south.”

Being The Cradle’s Lord of Procurement, with his manners and likability, he was always the right choice for the position, and he knows exactly what tower has what.

And what each need.

I frown at Bled. “And why didn’t you acquire an Ice Breaker for me to keep in The Estate?”

His lips lift in one corner because he knows I’m using the casual conversation to further stir my apathy through Medan’s concerns. “Are you taking up whale and shark fishing as a pastime, Sire?” Bled asks.

“Not today.” I drop the toothpick and lean forward. “I wasn’t going to risk the Silk Girls’ safety, now, was I?” I say, looking straight at Medan. “Are we really going to let him enter The Circle and have free access to their doors? To our legacies.” I lean back again. “I think not.”

Bled, who knows all too well what happened and suspects why, agrees, “A reason is all I needed. For The Trade. For the protection of the Silk Girls. Fine. What to do with the Half-tower?”

“You want it?”

“Fuck no.”

Cairo looks at Bled. “It will get out of control now that Darwin is missing, and we cannot have his chosen Collective speculating. So, we will have the Shadows enter and finish twenty-one Xin De Trade men and Darwin’s Collective. We will kill them in the Common way—with poison from the La Mu root. Xin De will turn on Common, and we will send the Martial Blues in to keep the peace. We will put the entire tower under heavy restrictions and organise a new management team from the ashes of this⁠—”

“Civil unrest,” I finish.

“Yes.” The Trade Master smiles, but it does not meet his sharp gaze. “And we are their hope for peace and Meaningful Purpose.”

Impressive.

I slash a man’s throat open for touching a silly, little girl, and Cairo somehow redirects the entire event to suit his damn agenda. Most of the time, I hate the man— No, I despise him all of the time. I would reach in and pull out his beating heart most days, but I must admit he is a narcissistic mastermind.

“Do you have a lord in mind for the task, Sire?” Turin Two asks, probing to get to the guts of this topic. He might want it. A tower far away from me, but because he wants it, I desperately do not desire to give it to him.

“Not as yet,” I answer.

“All settled then.” Bled looks at Medan. “Execute Darwin’s Collective. Stoke the civil disputes over who is to blame, then save the day. Happy, Lord Medan?”

Medan nods stiffly.

Cairo clasps his hands on the large oak table, entwining his fingers, his many rings glinting under the lights. “It may seem less than authentic, but it’s necessary to keep the peace. For the citizens of The Cradle, we needed to remove Lord Darwin, and I assure you, Lord Medan, we will move in before there are too many casualties.”

I rub the rough, hard surface of my jaw. My mind is now tickled with the memory of a little creature gagging on my cock while Darwin choked on blood... And her sweet questions after, her warm thighs and pussy on my lap, her big violet eyes full of arousal, her interest in my genetics and⁠—

“Are you smiling?”

I glare across at Turin Two, cocky fucker. “I was thinking about Darwin’s sliced arteries.” It’s not completely a lie. My eyes narrow on him. “For such a small Xin De, he sure had a lot of blood inside him.” I stand, ending the meeting. “I have hunting to do. Bled, join me.”

He stands, smooths his leathers down his chest and walks to open the door for me. “Aquilla Cats?”

“Pests. And the beasts used to be extinct.” I walk through the door, and he trails me. “But I do enjoy culling the fuckers. To think our ancestors thousands of years before The Cradle used to sit around and watch a screen all day.”

Bled hums. “Well, bored people are boring.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Eight

Aster

Silk Girl Vows:

For The Trade, I will share my last breath if The Cradle need me to. Whether it is land, man, or breath, I do not take possession.

I spoon some oatmeal between my lips, humming.

My cheeks radiate heat, so I wave a small parchment hand fan in front of my face, fanning the sweat to a glistening cool mist.

Glancing around the table, I notice the others are rosy-faced, while above us, the air conditioner hums softly so I know this isn’t an external heat. Nope. We are burning up from the inside out. All of us.

‘Ovulating, little creature.’

I suppress a groan as the events from yesterday unfold behind my eyes like turning pages in my memory.

“Lick.”

“Concentrate on me, little creature.”

“Go to your room.”

“You’re aroused.”

I knew what being a Silk Girl entailed. Adore. Pleasure. I understood the process and the anatomy, but nothing could have prepared me for the… intensity. Of bringing a massive man to shuddering pleasure. Of being praised with a silent lap of his lusty eyes.

I press my legs together, heat rolling between my thighs. I’m worried I’ll leak through my knickers and leave a patch of moisture on the chair.

“He didn’t come last night,” Ana mutters, snatching my attention away from the memory.

“Come inside you or to your room?” Blossom asks, and I nearly spit out my meal. So, we do talk about things.

“Not at all,” she answers, playing with her food.

I sit up, remembering the blood and the body-shaped pattern smeared through it. “Really? Is that strange? Does he usually visit every night?”

I like Ana more than any girl I’ve ever met, but I suddenly feel two opposing forces. One is regretful that something may have happened to her lord, and one is guilt-mixed with relief that if that is true, the king has not chosen a Silk Girl for his heirs yet.

After yesterday, after the feel of him throbbing down my throat, his growls of ecstasy, his thighs tightening under my palms, and then—I almost sigh aloud—our candid conversations… we talked.

The king is my… friend.

I don’t want him to be that close to anyone else, and that goes against everything we are taught, but I’m not made of stone, carved with a blade. I am made of flesh, with a brain and heart that lives independently of what the world tries to carve into my character.

But having character is not virtuous.

I inhale hard, wishing my mind was at peace.

I chant the vows; I take no possessions! I do not own my own breath should The Cradle need it. I know this. I know, but…