Some people before us are afraid to reach in, others try but then retract their hands with a squeal when the hole closes, and more get their hands stuck in the tight grasp of the machine. It is a game of speed and timing.
I place my hand over my chest and feel my heart beating inside.
Budum.
Budum.
When it’s my turn, I watch the gap closely for a few moments, counting my heartbeat in my ears, focused. I brace my hand at the entrance—wait. I dive in. Snatch the heart and whisk it out, still beating in my palm.
I hold it up.
The blood from the organ begins to spill over my fingers, and the girls gasp as it appears to be real. A real heart still very active, thrashing between my fingers.
“Drop it,” Iris cries, but I barely hear her.
I’m staring at it so hard, the thing still thrashing, oozing fluid, that I don’t notice everyone has gone quiet.
Then I hear a long, drawn-out screech from the skies above me. A shadow moves over the festival, darting, then darkening the ground that circles the place where I stand.
Everyone except Ana cowers away from the ominous shadow, retreating to the safety of the lit areas of the piazza.
The shadow tunnels in, a dark entity homing in on me. I look up and inhale a sharp breath.
The underside of Odio quickly descending through the haze is a sight that snatches air from inside my lungs. His wings are black and brown, but for a silvery sheen that appears to almost sparkle.
His massive talons pound the ground as he lands, his body low to take the impact until he straightens, standing at my height. Eye to eye.
He stares at me.
I still hold the heart in my hand, but it has stopped beating, while my own heart races in my ears to replace the rhythmic countdown.
“Get her out of there,” I hear someone mutter, but I am not afraid of Odio… Should I be?
“Aster,” Ana whispers from close to my side, and time appears to slow as I sweep my arm back, tucking her behind me so that I stand between Odio and my pregnant friend.
Against my nerves, I step toward the great winged deity, presenting the heart for him to take. “I had a friend like you,” I say, soothing, “in the Aquilla Silk Aviary.”
I inch closer, and everyone gasps again.
“He was a vicious thing, not at all royal like you are.” I take another step, my fingers and the heart a mere nail’s length away from his razor-sharp beak. “You’re such a handsome boy.” Odio cocks his head from side to side, eyes piercing like the perfect predator he is.
My hand shakes violently, so I steady my breath again, and control the tremors of adrenaline. I know he could take my hand off in a heartbeat—one heartbeat.
I turn my face slightly, gaze at him sideways, and then blink to let him know I’m relaxed.
Budum.
He plucks the heart from my grasp without even touching my fingers and pushes off the ground, wings whooshing the air around me.
I pant with excitement and relief, euphoria riding my exhale. I beam up as the beautiful creature coasts over the heads of The Estate guests, blood from the heart dripping a long crimson trail through the air like a pretty ribbon. My world is spinning, and the thrill makes me dizzy.
Finally, my mind aligns with my surroundings when I level my gaze and notice no one else shares my expression of awe and delight. I blink at the sudden change in mood. The festival and the other guests are all startled, gaping at me.
Dammit. I circle around to face the platform and freeze.
He has noticed me now…
Targeted me.
Rome has risen from his throne, scowling across the crowded piazza with a rifle perfectly ready to take me down.
I swallow.
I gape at the nose of the weapon, only now feeling fear dripping through my veins like a poison that burns in the wake of its travels. I hold my breath, and he lowers his aim slowly. I exhale hard.
Would he have shot me?
For feeding his eagle?
For the disturbance?
He continues to stare across the space at me. My pulse vibrates in my throat, and time stretches… Then he sits down and turns his head as a woman whispers something in his ear.
A beat of noise shocks me as the festival returns to full activity, musicians making music again, the rides whirling around, people chattering and moving.
“Aster.” Ana grabs my arm and turns me around. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you drop the heart?”
“Was I meant to?” I ask, confused, as she starts wiping my bloody fingers with the underside of her skirt.
“See”—Iris huffs, throwing her arms in the air— “she is so weird. She nearly got us all killed by that beast, and now everyone thinks that I am with her.”
Ana studies me quietly.
“I didn’t want to be placed with her at all,” Iris continues, and I look at the ground, wishing I’d just dropped the heart or not played at all. He was willing to shoot me—My king was going to shoot me down in front of everyone! All my elation over seeing Odio fizzles to shame.
“I didn’t want to be anywhere near her,” Iris continues to drive her message home. “The king saw! I was next to her. I am mortified. She is odd, and she ruins—”
“Let’s get something to eat,” Blossom offers, stopping Iris mid-break-down by rubbing her back. “Yeah? I can smell warm chocolate and butter. That means cakes or brownies. Ever eaten those before?”
Into the last-light, we stand at the side of a high, granite banquet table in a smaller dining room lit from above with lights strung together by twisted gold satin garlands. The table is chest height. For them. For the Xin De that make us feel like a different species altogether.
It is much quieter in here, but the vibrant activities still flitter through the open double doors.
I chew on a brownie, absentminded. He was going to shoot at me. That is how little I mean, we all mean, until we have Meaningful Purpose. Would he have raised the gun if I’d been pregnant? I know the answer. Very few are as precious as a pregnant Silk Girl.
He cared in the tank.
He seemed to care.
He doesn’t care…
My king… Lies. His eyes lie. My heart twists. I remember what Island and Paisley said about the fruit, so as silly as I feel, I reach across and grab some strawberries.
We all felt the heat of attention when we first arrived, the lords’ taking us in as they might a flock of birds, but it isn’t until this moment that I actually see them.
They are hard to miss.
Down the length of the table, three men with the purple Trade sigil pinned to their cloaks, watch us and speak quietly amongst themselves. Each has a high Xin De genus; being well over six-foot-five inches, eyes like glowing beacons, and muscles that any Common man would cower from.
I have memorised them from my studies; Lord Medan, white skin and dark hair, the shortest and smallest, from the Upper-tower; Lord Bled with warm, brown skin and striking amber eyes, from the Lower-tower; And Lord Darwin, being the oldest by far, showing hints of true aging, greying and fine lines that often remain hidden until a Xin De reaches sixty or so, from the Half-tower on The Mainland.
The only one missing is Lord Turin Two, the king’s half-brother, spare heir for The Cradle and Warden of The Estate.
Be irresistible.