Page 11 of Born for Lace

I fight to hide a shudder.

What choice do I have?

It’s a fair exchange, and he said he won’t bring me any harm.

“Who will, um—” I clear my throat. “Watch Spero, my baby, while I sleep?”

“If you feed that babe this formula.” He lifts a glass jar up from under the counter. It is half full of white powder. “It’ll go to sleep for at least a few hours. A full stomach will do that. Mark my words.”

I stare at the jar. Relief rushes down a heavy exhale. I can feed Spero for a week or so. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders, and I sigh.

“You only need a few hours?”

He shrugs. “Tops.”

“Do you have more formula?”

“No.” He slides the jar across the counter to me. “You might start to make your own milk soon. Then we can talk about bottlin’ that. There will be lots of interest there.” He licks his lips, and I swallow over a lump.

“I won’t be here that long,” I say, reaching for the formula and accepting the exchange. “I am going to feed my baby first. Do you have fresh water? A bottle or mixing… thing.”

He frowns, his gaze dropping to the crying infant, irritation crossing his face, before he grabs an empty plastic bottle from a trash can behind him. “Here.” He nods toward the door. “There is fresh water by The House. It’s signed. Largest cabin. Three levels. Probably has House Girls out the front waitin’ for the travellers. I ain’t allowed there. But pretty things like you will be, but—” He shuffles. “We got an exchange, right? You don’t gonna steal from me?”

I lift my chin. “I would never steal from anyone.”

“You ain’t goin’ to The Crust if you steal,” he adds.

“I’ll be back,” I assure him.

He twitches. “Soon!”

His tone hits a breath from me. I don’t know why. This is life. What I was born for. This is a decent, harmless exchange. I only hope what he has planned for my body while I sleep is gentle. It’s soothing to have another person rest with you. Dopamine and serotonin are released in our brains when we have company, stroke someone’s hair, or feel their warmth. It is in my studies, and the very Purpose of a Lace Girl.

Usually, we are registered with a Trade man who deserves us, who works hard at his Purpose and takes a vow to care for us. To treat us as special, precious, even. The Endigo man’s heated attention stirs through me—this is not how it usually works, but… I gaze down at Spero.

I have to do this for him.

Hiding my anxieties behind a soft smile, I take one final look at the Endigo man, noticing how the pupil in his good eye has enlarged, before heading toward the door.

One task at a time. I need to feed Spero. Need fresh water and a makeshift nipple.

ChapterFour

Dahlia

The House has a small stony frontage boxed with a wooden fence, and beside the single grey door, a tall, scantily dressed woman with black hair is leaning against the wall, scrutinising her long nails.

Jewellery hangs from her wrists and neck, some glistening with beads and some solid metals. An immodest symbol that she is, in fact, a House Girl. Only her kind flaunt jewels in such a way.

I clear my throat as I approach. “Excuse me?”

Moving only her blue eyes, she peers up from her hand, taking a full sweep of my body and mumbling, “Yes?”

That’s all I get.

I continue toward her, stopping a few paces from the entrance on the pretty cobbled path bordered by plant pots they obviously care enough about to maintain.

“I don’t do girls,” she says.

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