Page 131 of Born for Silk

I freeze. I stare at his closed washroom door but feel as if I cannot wait. Or perhaps, I don’t want to. Through this long pause, something tugs at me. To make my way to her. To be there for her.

Swallowing, I push through the bedroom door and rush past Kong and a Guard.

“Aster!” I hear Rome roar.

Needing to get to Ana, I sprint from the royal wing, down the paths and around the gardens, Odio coasting above me, his shadow a dark patch below my tread.

Inside, my nerves flutter.

That feeling heightens the moment I enter the Silk Girl Ward and see Daisy, Blossom, their Watchers, and Paisley with their hands pressed to a window, peering in.

I pace over.

Through the glass, Ana is lying awake on a high trundle bed, looking both exposed and brave, while a woman in white stitches a smile-shaped wound in her abdomen. Ana nervously chews on her lip but does not appear to be in any pain as she peers past the woman, desperate to find something.

I whip my gaze around the room. It is full of machines, bright lights, but still unsettlingly stark. A woman in coral colours—a Trade nurse—fusses around Ana, and a man in white holds a bundle of— My mouth drops open. A baby. He holds a lovely, tiny baby swaddled in a purple cloth.

I press my palms to the glass that divides us, feeling the floor under my feet shift. My heart twists, but I am unsure what emotion is causing this tight anguish. Happiness? Am I not utterly happy? What do I feel? There is something else, something I cannot identify. Something with a heavy, haunting presence.

What is it?

“Is she well?” I breathe.

“They both are,” Daisy answers.

A tear slides down my cheek as the doctor places the babe in Ana’s outstretched arms before moving to approve the stitches in her abdomen.

“Would the Silk Girls like to come inside and say a quick hello to the new baby boy?” A nurse is leaning through the door beside the viewing window, looking at us.

“Oh, yes, please,” Daisy answers.

And we waste no time at all, flocking into the room and surrounding Ana and her baby. My skin prickles as the cooler air wraps around me. It smells like fresh skin, blood, and lemons, but somehow, their mingling scent is pleasant.

“Look at you,” Blossom coos softly, touching the babe’s flushing cheeks.

“He is divine,” Daisy gushes. “You have Meaningful Purpose, Ana. You did it.”

The tight feeling has followed me into this room, a dark phantom with no name. It coils itself around me as I reach out and run my fingertip down the inside of a chubby pink palm.

So soft.

Like a pillow.

“He is everything,” Ana says, her eyes flooding with awe, her smile filling with tears.

I want to speak but cannot find the words. Why don’t I have words for you, little one?

Then I see them.

Then I know why.

My eyes pan across as Rome—my Rome, my king—and Master Cairo enter the room, sending ice through my spine, provoking my hand to cradle the swelling at my abdomen. The phantom at my back hisses in my ear, ‘For The Cradle, I shall adore all its children equally and with quiet humility. I have no claim over what I provide for The Cradle.’

Daisy’s smile falls.

Blossom’s chin trembles.

I find a word. “No.”

---