"It’s the Xin De genus,” Ana offers, and I return my gaze to her kind face.
I know about this. Kong shows no signs of aging yet must have past his fiftieth year. Will I die of old age before the king even does?
Ana lifts one brow. “The treatments also help.”
"Treatments?" Iris asks.
"My lord told me,” Ana mentions, directly. “Men like to talk after the act, Iris. They don’t want a statue. She is given all these treatments to keep her looking youthful. She looks younger than us if you ask me.”
Iris straightens. “Treatments? Genetic engineering is completely illegal. You are either born with the genus or you don’t have it. That is it!”
Ana frowns. “I didn’t say anything about engineering, Iris. I said treatments.”
Daisy presses her hand to her chest, clearly unsettled, and whispers, “Can we stop talking about treatments and engineering, please?”
I sway the conversation a little. “She looks sad.” My heart aches looking at her, the thin shell of a girl—or woman.
"What could she be sad about?" Blossom asks.
"Why is she holding a doll?" Iris points out, the smallest hint of bitterness punches through her words. The only girl more precious than a pregnant Silk Girl is the queen.
"You cannot judge her because you don't know her or anything she's been through," I point out.
I stand up and walk to the door to the courtyard.
“You cannot go, Aster. Only speak when spoken to. She is the queen!” Daisy shoots up to stop me.
I lift my hand. “But if she is sad and no one is allowed to speak to her, then who will make her feel better?”
“The rules are there for a reason. You’re new. I am just trying to look after you,” Daisy says again, and Blossom and Ana both share glances.
“I’ll be fine.” I enter the courtyard and Paisley is immediately a wall in front of me.
"Where are you going? Aster, you can't go into the courtyard today. It is closed."
Wow, this poor girl is guarded like a bomb. I am not going to detonate her, nor detonate around her.
I swerve past Paisley and head toward the queen. Each step along the grass feels like a small achievement, but I ready myself to be tackled to the ground.
I see movement to my side; Kong is on guard, staring at me with his back to a nearby limestone wall.
Isn’t he the king’s Guardian?
Our eyes meet. Smiling with a silent plea, I keep going until I am standing beside the queen.
"May I lay with you?"
She looks up at me, staring through my existence, as if to determine whether I am real. I understand that look. It is the same one I had when I was in a three-day fever dream.
I look at her toy. “Who is that?” Lying beside her on the grass, I quietly mirror her position, back flat, legs slightly apart, hands resting on my torso.
"Rome,” she answers, with a soft, melodic cadence that dances in my ears. “He is always going away.” She pulls the teddy to her chest. “He leaves me here, and I miss him so."
Sad. I chew my lip. "I'm Aster."
"I know,” she sighs. “I'm supposed to have visited you. All of you. To welcome you to The Estate. But when I go places, smiles crumble, and you all have such lovely smiles."
My heart squeezes.
We lie in silence, and I watch the grey dome above us as it reaches into a dusty red distance, wondering what could have happened to her to make her so strangely unhappy.
I want to understand…
The light breeze sweeps over us, moving our hair in the grass, bringing with it floral notes from the garden and something else. Something from her.
Sweet and citrus… orange.
The queen smells like oranges.
Many moments pass by. And it’s truly surreal, but my soul finds an easy companion in hers.
“It was blue once. The sky,” I finally say.
“I would have liked to see that.”
I exhale with relief. "Tuscany is a lovely name.” I shuffle to look at her face, and she drops her cheek to the grass to meet my gaze. “If I were named after a city from the old-world, I would like to be London. If you were a flower, just a flower, what would your name be?"
Her lips make a tiny smile. "In all my life, no one has ever asked me a question like that before."
"I'm odd."
"Mm.” Her eyes, glimmering amber orbs, say she agrees. “I am odd, too. I'd be Marigold. It's bright, and the bees love them. I'll pollinate the entire planet until we are overrun with flowers.” She looks me over, nodding to herself. “We must look a sight lying on the grass together.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”
Her measured smile softens on me. “I can see you as London. It was supposedly a royal city.”
A moment of reluctance pauses her, but then she reaches for my wrist, lifting it up for her perusal. Her touch is lighter than the breeze.
"They mutilated you," she whispers.
She takes in the healing skin graft.
My brows pinch as I trace the sad curve of her lips. She has been through something traumatic, like me. Maybe. Or nothing like me, but something has scratched her soul. I can see the blemishes left in her eyes.
"They were going to eat me,” I admit.
She carefully lowers my hand to the soft, green blades. "Silk Girls aren't meant to have any negative experiences. It’s better for the cells, no cortisol, no stress, peaceful births and babies.”
My throat tightens. I’ve messed up. It’s not like it was a choice, but it is my problem. "I'm sorry, my queen."
"You're not a very good Silk Girl,” she mentions, and though the words are harsh, she utters them without malice. As though she were merely recognising the colour of my hair.
"I know."
She sighs long and slow. "I'm not a very good queen."
Wow.
"The fuck are you doing!"
Rome grabs my upper arm, dragging me to my feet, where I barely manage to stand.
It all happens so quickly. He is holding my arm too high. I’m too short. I cry out; the weight of my dangling body on my shoulder hurts. I feel as if I may split in two.
“Boy.” Kong is upon us. “Let her go.”
Rome drops me to the ground.
“Rome.” Tuscany breathes. “Don’t.”
I fall like a wet cloth, the grass scraping my arm as I land. Shocked, I peer up at him, shrinking into a tiny, insignificant puddle at his huge feet. I scoot backward on my backside.
He points at me. “You’re out!”
“Rome!” Tuscany yells.
“My king,” I plead, shaking hard. “She was sad. I was just talking to Tuscan—”
“What?” He jolts toward me. “Did you just use her name?” If he could burn me to nonexistence with his dark, cruel gaze, he would. “You will never speak her name again! She gave that up for you people! You will never speak again. And that is a damn kindness. No more questions from you. No more special treatment. I don’t care who you are. I understand the need for obedience and conditioning right the fuck now!” he roars, his body shaking with rage. “There is no place for a girl like you here! You’re lucky you have your pretty throat. Get her out of my sight!”
His words are bullets, and they find their target, right in my heart. “My king, please,” I beg.
“Sire!” he roars, the sound booting me in the chest, his eyes burning with fury so powerful it sparks through the air.
“Come, girl.” Kong grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, nudging me forward.
Shallow breaths racket through me—words, panic, pleading, apologies, confusion, all bursting up my throat simultaneously.