Blossom looks ashamed. “We told Ana.”

“I thought you would want her to know,” Daisy adds, glancing quickly at her hands. “We should trust each other in all things. I hope you’re not up⁠—”

“It is fine.” I touch her shoulder. “I’m glad.” Taking a step back so I can better see all three of them, I answer with all that I know. “She has been banished from The Estate. Sent to another Tower. One on The Mainland. A mining Tower. That is all I know.”

Ana frowns. “They are not executing her? For what she did to you? For crimes against her Collective? Against us?”

It is not that simple. I see her grey…

I shake my head as I say, “No. I begged the king to show her mercy.”

“Aster,” Ana sighs my name, heavy disapproval dropping her tone. “She deserves far worse.”

“She is the scorpion,” Blossom bids.

Ana’s eyes dart around in confusion. “A scorpion? Huh, she is a scorpion, that is for sure.”

“The House Girls are at the carnival.” Daisy points, and we all follow her finger out toward the stage.

I lift to my tippy-toes again, squinting at where Lord Medan, Lord Bled, and Rome are surrounded by women. Tall and curvaceous women, but any further details are lost to the distance. With that height and thickness, one can only presume they have a high Xin De genus.

Envy embeds its claws in my stomach.

I recall a conversation from last night when Rome said that Xin De girls can take more of him inside them. And I feel it, the most shameful of emotions—jealousy. It traps focus, distracting us from our Purpose. I don’t have time for it.

Jealousy makes us lose our path.

“Maybe they are dancing for the lords at the carnival.” She hums. “That’s a little… provocative, but then, the men need to unwind. It is good for their temperament.”

“Dancing.” I find myself grinding out the word, hoping to turn the jealousy it carries to dust between my teeth. Jealous inflictions imply I want something that they have… But I don’t.

Because he is mine.

My king.

They want what is mine. I don’t feel jealous; I feel territorial. There is a distinct difference.

We stay on the balcony, enjoying the music and occasional cheer from the carnival below. Crown-light fades into last-light, and fires, torches, and lamps from lanes create blazing dots across The Estate.

Ana, Daisy, Blossom, and I open up to each other. We share stories from books we were never meant to read and discuss the old-world. We consider the ideology of The Crust—a state of peace and endless happiness or just a place to decay. And while we talk, I realise I am not that different. They have the same wandering mind, only they are better at controlling it.

After they leave, the Missing Moon must be hanging high, surrounded by stars that will never filter the haze, as I roll around in his bed, the enormous surface swallowing me.

I dream about a small boy holding a dead baby bird, not knowing what has happened to it. I don’t know how I know that, but he is in pain and desperate to stroke the feathers, to soothe it.

The little thing is upside down, its legs curled, feet crimped in tight agony. I follow this boy as he strolls around a grey underground with flickering lights, which does not make sense because how would a bird get down there?

The boy in the dim fades to the words, "Aster..." He slowly drifts away from me, and I feel myself reaching out my fingers, feeling a sadness I cannot comprehend—I don't know him.

"Aster."

I flutter my eyes open to Rome crawling on the mattress, his heavy weight rocking me from side to side as he climbs over me.

"My king," I whisper in my sleepy daze, but the sadness clings to me for a few conscious moments longer.

Then warm lips seal my mouth and flood my heart with love and contentment.

Heat blankets my skin as his kisses deepens, and his hands trail over my body, seeking, searching, worshipping. I should be frightened by how large his palms are, how much surface they cover, how possessive his grip is.

But I’m not.

His fingers slide between my thighs and find my core wet and warm already.

A moan leaks from my sleepy mouth and into his kiss.

He dips between my folds, playing up and down the slick valley but not pushing past the entrance and into me. He stirs me, my eyes rolling to his perfect rhythm.

"The thought of you has been distracting me all night. You have power over me."

More moans roll along my tongue. My hips circle with his skilled fingers, chasing the edging pleasure. "I need to take back some power, little creature," he utters darkly.

With that, he rolls me onto my side and covers my back and legs entirely with his large form.

Between my thighs, two fingers return to their motion, to their mixing of pleasure, to their stoking of need.

His other hand positions his cock. He doesn't wait, rousing me with his warm touch while he takes his power back and pushes through me.

My eyes fly open, and my steady, soft moans spiral into uncertain whimpers and mewls.

I dig my nails into his sheets.

He hooks my leg backward over his and pumps into me. "Fuck, yes. You’re so wet."

“My king.” My voice trembles.

“I am here. You’re safe” He reaches for my hand, brings it back, and sets my fingers on his thick, veined forearm. “Remember your claws, little creature.”

The stretch is…

Oh, the stretch.

Warmth.

Tension.

Pressure.

But then… I cannot quell the thought of him with a Xin De girl. Sinking all the way in. I push my backside into him, and immediately, his crown bashes something inside me—the end of me. I cry out, both frustrated and in pain.

“Stop that!” He grunts. “You have a lot of nerves on your cervix, and you’re pregnant. If you do that again, I will pull out and fuck your other hole as punishment.”

Fuck my?

I blink.

He cannot mean…

My confusion churns to pleasure when his fingers slide down and play with my clit, strumming the bead. My mouth opens, and I whimper my thoughts. "I saw you.”

“Saw me what?”

“With the House Girls.” The words fall out before I have time to swallow them. Can’t swallow. Can barely feel anything as he brings my pleasure up, up, from my toes. Down. Down from my hot ears. Across, across from thighs. Landing a ball of pleasure at the tips of his fingers that leaves me writhing and taking fast thrusts from behind.

His fingers leave me.

“Did you?” A firm hand slides up, roaming along my trembling belly, between my ribs, to my throat, where he grabs the column, possessiveness rearing up.

Groaning, he holds me still to take his thrusts from behind, beating upward into me but still cloaking my spine in his hot body.

I shake when he does.

I swelter when he burns.

"What are you implying," he hisses between heavy pants that match his inward drives. "That I want someone else? That I’ll take them over you?”

I answer through choppy whimpers. "It is none of my business who you..." I hesitate, but say it anyway, "fuck."

"That word is beneath you, sweet creature. I fuck you,” he says as he does. “I fuck, you do not. You adore, pleasure, love. Don't use words that are beneath you."

He groans, the pumping of his hips gets faster, and I close my eyes, taking the need, feeling his desperation to come in the precision, in the focus of every inward drive.

My pussy ripples and flutters around him, opening only when he pushes in and closing as he pulls out.

I’m mindless with him. “Oh, my king."

"Don't disrespect this, little creature. Don't underestimate my obsession for you!" His fingers tighten around my throat. "I am consumed. I cannot go a night without this. I cannot concentrate."