I spin around, take a fist full of his silver hair, and slam his face into the wooden bedframe, hard enough that he goes limp. I release him, and he drops to the ground.

“Do you have anything to say!” I thunder at the doctor, who backs away with his hands held in surrender.

“No, Sire.”

“Leave!” I order, and he scurries from the room.

I kneel at her bed. “Sorry for what?” She gasps, staring at the body on the floor. “Look at me,” I demand. “Sorry for what?”

Her wide eyes lift. “She will know.”

“I must know!”

“I cannot.” She shakes her head over and over. “And condemn her again. I will not do it.”

Anger’s burning presence returns to my veins. “You will tell me, or I will⁠—"

“I'm dying, Sire.” Her words are softly spoken but I pause under their weight. “There is nothing you can do to me. Silk girls must be without negative experiences. I do not wish to⁠—"

“There are worse fates than death.” I grit my teeth, caging the threats that sit inside. Torture. Flaying. Skinning. A slow, bloody death that leaves screams embedded into the atmosphere. I hold the darkness. “Nothing you say will condemn her,” I declare. “You have my word.”

“The word of Rome of The Strait.” She sighs. “I remember when she spoke with you in the parlour. I was viciously jealous of her that day.”

Patience waning, I hiss. “What are you sorry for?”

“I was cruel,” she admits, a shiver racketing through her body despite her sweats. “Many times in her life. For no reason. It felt good to be stronger than her because she seemed so mentally impenetrable. It bothered me, and then you touched her, so before I left the aviary, we held her down and tried to ruin her seal. There was blood. I've not stopped thinking about it⁠—"

Barely, I hold my temper. “We?”

“Yes. Iris, Ivy and I.” She winces. “Forgive me.”

"No."

I reach forward and snap her neck in one swift movement, letting a growl of protective energy rumble from within my soul, giving it significance, berthing it into the old penitentiary walls.

I rise to my feet, my scowl stripping skin from her lifeless face, when her arm flops from the bed. It dangles. Sways. And her Silk Girl tattoo becomes a pendulum for my internal conflict over loving... Aster.

The scene from my first campaign as heir gutters into me. The dead woman in the van with the Silk Girl tattoo… Her swinging arm. I always suspected she was the birth mother of one of the babes we took. The realisation burns a river through my chest. Now I know.

That was her mother.

And we had her raped and murdered.

I walk from the room.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Aster

The white beam scans my body, from crown to toes, as it does every first-light but unlike every other time, when I try to leave, the door doesn’t open.

I stand at the blockade, waiting for it to move or click. I push it and stand back, stare at it. Glare. “Paisley?”

Am I in trouble?

Has Master Cairo returned?

I know a Silk Girl’s room is sacred, but Ana’s Watcher seemed to approve as I made progress. And Ana eventually left her mattress. It is not like I spent the night with her. She still had her privacy. I only moved from reading and accompanying the other Silk Girls to completing a puzzle with Ana.

Has he returned?

The door opens, and I step backward a few paces as Paisley rushes into the space.

“Aster!” She locks my arms by my sides in an awkward hug, I think. I think she is hugging me. I don’t mind.

I chuckle. “What is it?”

She pushes me out in front of her, holding my shoulders. “You’re pregnant, Aster.” She nods, joy bouncing around her expression, and I let the words sink in. “Your ovum has implanted. Oh, my,”—her eyes widen— “I need to get the news to Sire. And Master Cairo and—” Her hands slide down my arms, releasing me. She begins to pace. “You need a Guardian. Yes. You need one because everyone knows, Aster. They know who you are. It isn’t safe. And the baby will grow fast. Sire outgrew his⁠—”

“His womb at six months,” I say, remembering this from my studies. If the Silk Girl is Common, they remove the babes with a higher Xin De genus surgically before seven months to prevent Xin De Maternal deaths, but Sire, he was so big they incubated him in the sixth month.

All of a sudden, my heartbeat is in my ears, and it’s all I can hear and feel. The pulse is in my neck, and I wish his hand was wrapped protectively around my throat. So he could feel the flutter. Know my emotions. So he could hold me. I miss him, even though he was never mine.

But I do have Meaningful Purpose.

“I have Meaningful Purpose,” I whisper, a string of words I have waited my entire life to say. I hear the phrase filter through the drone between my temples, its certainty and meaning lifting my lips at each corner.

I touch my smile. “Paisley,” I say and grab her hand, stopping her from pacing. “Stop. You know. Who else knows? Everyone? What does this mean?”

Frazzled, she stills, gaping at me. “I don’t know. As far as I’m aware, this has never happened before. You are not even meant to converse with the lords, Aster.” She grips her forehead, distress building in her eyes. “I am at fault. I should have… I don’t know. Watched better. Informed you better.”

I pull her in for another hug. “No. You are not at fault.”

“During this term”—she speaks over my shoulder, truths pouring from her— “a Silk Girl has become pregnant outside of The Circle and before Sire even started, a lord has died, and the heir is no longer a secret. I don’t know what this means for us, or where to go from here.”

“Please,” I say into her hair, “Don’t panic. I’m pregnant, Paisley.” I let her go and find her worried gaze. “I’m pregnant. This is good news.”

“I’m sorry.” She shakes herself. “This is my first pregnancy, too. Let’s get you fed first, and I will go to the Trade Connect Building and get the message to the Black Matter Tower and the Half-tower where Master Cairo is.” She inhales and exhales, letting herself relax. “I only want to keep you and the heir safe. I am so happy for you, for us—for The Cradle.”

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Part FourFor The Cradle

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A Silk Girl’s

First Trimester

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Chapter One

Aster

Though it has been four days since the news of my pregnancy, I’ve kept it a hard secret.

The reasons are many. I want to wait until Ana’s grief releases her enough for her to rejoin our regular routine, and for Paisley to announce the next steps, given the babe in my belly lacks anonymity.

‘Do you trust your Collective?’

Rome’s questioning rolls in my mind. No. I do not. Not Iris, at least. That truth is profound and undeniable, weighing like a stone inside me, unmoving, steadfast.

I am sitting with the Silk Girls on the lush emerald courtyard lawn when I hear a commotion inside the wing. Blossom, Daisy, and I share questioning glances, but Iris does not even look up from the book open on her lap.

We hold our voices and breath as the sound of heavy footsteps grows. More than one set and they rap with unyielding focus. Tension crackles in the air.