Page 154 of Born for Silk

“No.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It won’t. I saw this conversation. I have been finding it hard to convince myself that the reasons we keep the babes safe apply to you…”

I lift my chin.

“The Estate is the safest place in The Cradle,” he states matter-of-factly. “So… For the babes born in The Estate, I do not see why we cannot run a test. See if it is feasible and does not interrupt the flow of production and procedures. We can alter some protocols, add extra measures, extra Guards, and allow the Silk Girls from your Collective visitation rights once a day to spend with the babies.”

That will make her smile.

“And in your case.” He eyes me. “As the heir is known, the safest place is by his father’s side. I cannot disagree. This is what I can offer you. What I will approve, no, support…”

But then, his pause thickens the air.

“In exchange for something for myself.”

Of course.

“I want a succession.”

And there it is. His motivation. For fucking the redheaded Silk Girl in The Circle. For his leniency with Aster.

He premeditated this.

Fucker.

Kong’s sarcastic inference thunders in my mind. “What a successful campaign, then? It couldn’t have gone any better if Cairo had planned it himself.”

Cairo must have seen Aster and me in the Parlour the day we met. Paid the Endigo to flip the van, take her, and hold her…

Knowing full well that I was at Breaker Ledge—that I would want to continue my bloodshed from the war, because… He. Knows. Me.

Fuck.

And when I didn’t want to breed with her, when I spoke of keeping her as a plaything, he pushed me, fuelling me with jealousy by threatening to give her to another, and made me claim her…

He left The Estate.

Left me to fall in love.

I shake my head, fisting my hands at my sides, reeling in this knowledge.

As always, I do not know whether to be impressed, angry, or thrust my fucking fist through his chest cavity and draw out his pumping heart.

As if reading my thoughts, he says, “You have Aster. Without me, you would not. So when I die, I want my heirs to inherit my Trade.”

Never in the history of The Cradle has a Trade Master been granted this; it is incomprehensible. Dangerous. The most powerful person in the game of chess is the player. In The Cradle’s present state, The Trade Master is appointed by the lords, keeping us all connected and valued. He is then bestowed phenomenal control—all The Cradle’s secrets and the protection of the Shadows.

Luckily, the player changes.

Fortunately, a new Trade Master can be appointed after a natural death. This keeps order in the land. Balance. It keeps us all in check.

He isn’t asking for an heir.

He isn’t asking for a legacy.

He is asking for The Cradle.

I stare at him, my hand twitching to pull that beating organ through his ribcage and watch the blood spurt to the pulse of his dying heart.

“We are twin pillars,” he says, pressing. “The Crown and The Trade. That does not change, Sire.”

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