“I do, too.” Blossom bounces over.
My heart warms as the three of us embrace, our soft squeals and greetings singing in the air.
“I do miss our routines and the courtyard,” I admit, “I feel as though I have abandoned you.”
“It has only been a few days.” Daisy chuckles but pulls me in a little tighter to show how she feels.
My smile reaches every inch of my face, when another voice comes from inside. “What is the intention of the mantled eagles? They are… welcoming?”
My chin turns in time to see a stunning dark-skinned girl with a round belly walking—waddling—toward us.
“Ana!”
She presses into our huddle on the balcony, and I revel in the moment, my yearning to join the distant carnival melting away. “You’re feeling well?”
“I am feeling,” she simply says. “And accepting. I want to appreciate the smaller details before the puzzle is complete and I miss them. Like you. You’re a very pretty detail that I do not ever wish to take for granted.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Ana.”
As sentiment bites at our smiles and glosses our eyes, Ana clears her throat, shaking it away. She bumps Daisy with her hip. “Tell her.”
“I am pregnant,” Blossom blurts out.
“Blossom,” Daisy mock-moans. “We flipped a puzzle piece on who would go first.”
Blossom covers her smile. “Sorry!”
“As am I.” Daisy’s expression takes on a serious, significant manner when she places both of her palms on my lower abdomen. “And I hear you carry a king, Aster.”
My heart jets to the skies, and I nod.
“Aster made me realise something,” Ana says, and we all look at her. “While I was in my room.”
We form a relaxed circle, and the carnival music floats to our platform, creating a private festival just for us.
The Silk Girls.
“Meaningful Purpose is the completed puzzle,” she states. “But the journey, the pieces, can be meaningful, too. You and you and you”—she bounces her soft, brown gaze around the circle— “my Collective.”
“Aster…” Blossom’s eyes fill with hope. “You’re still one of us, aren’t you? You’re not something different now?”
“I am still one of you.” I cup the back of her auburn hair. “He has said I can see you as often as I wish, only I must bring…” On a heavy exhale, my gaze hits the roofline.
They follow my line of sight to where Odio is perched on the tiles above us, head tilting as if listening.
Ana shrugs. “It will be nice to have a man around.”
I laugh.
Remembering the queen, I spin to thank her for allowing this to happen, but… she is gone. Sadness flickers inside me, but I remember my Collective. I force myself to surrender the simmering need to help her. Sometimes, it is best to accept that not everything can be fixed. Some people are not ready… some are paralysed with fear.
A memory whispers in her absence. Small feathers in my palm. An upside-down bird trapped in a glass house.
If she could only see the Redwind.
See something outside of these walls.
Maybe she would spread her wings.
“What happened to Iris?” Daisy pulls me to the present, her question a chisel hacking for the truth.
Blossom looks ashamed. “We told Ana.”
“I thought you would want her to know,” Daisy adds, glancing quickly at her hands. “We should trust each other in all things. I hope you’re not up—”
“It is fine.” I touch her shoulder. “I’m glad.” Taking a step back so I can better see all three of them, I answer with all that I know. “She has been banished from The Estate. Sent to another Tower. One on The Mainland. A mining Tower. That is all I know.”
Ana frowns. “They are not executing her? For what she did to you? For crimes against her Collective? Against us?”
It is not that simple. I see her grey…
I shake my head as I say, “No. I begged the king to show her mercy.”
“Aster,” Ana sighs my name, heavy disapproval dropping her tone. “She deserves far worse.”
“She is the scorpion,” Blossom bids.
Ana’s eyes dart around in confusion. “A scorpion? Huh, she is a scorpion, that is for sure.”
“The House Girls are at the carnival.” Daisy points, and we all follow her finger out toward the stage.
I lift to my tippy-toes again, squinting at where Lord Medan, Lord Bled, and Rome are surrounded by women. Tall and curvaceous women, but any further details are lost to the distance. With that height and thickness, one can only presume they have a high Xin De genus.
Envy embeds its claws in my stomach.
I recall a conversation from last night when Rome said that Xin De girls can take more of him inside them. And I feel it, the most shameful of emotions—jealousy. It traps focus, distracting us from our Purpose. I don’t have time for it.
Jealousy makes us lose our path.
“Maybe they are dancing for the lords at the carnival.” She hums. “That’s a little… provocative, but then, the men need to unwind. It is good for their temperament.”
“Dancing.” I find myself grinding out the word, hoping to turn the jealousy it carries to dust between my teeth. Jealous inflictions imply I want something that they have… But I don’t.
Because he is mine.
My king.
They want what is mine. I don’t feel jealous; I feel territorial. There is a distinct difference.
We stay on the balcony, enjoying the music and occasional cheer from the carnival below. Crown-light fades into last-light, and fires, torches, and lamps from lanes create blazing dots across The Estate.
Ana, Daisy, Blossom, and I open up to each other. We share stories from books we were never meant to read and discuss the old-world. We consider the ideology of The Crust—a state of peace and endless happiness or just a place to decay. And while we talk, I realise I am not that different. They have the same wandering mind, only they are better at controlling it.
After they leave, the Missing Moon must be hanging high, surrounded by stars that will never filter the haze, as I roll around in his bed, the enormous surface swallowing me.
I dream about a small boy holding a dead baby bird, not knowing what has happened to it. I don’t know how I know that, but he is in pain and desperate to stroke the feathers, to soothe it.
The little thing is upside down, its legs curled, feet crimped in tight agony. I follow this boy as he strolls around a grey underground with flickering lights, which does not make sense because how would a bird get down there?
The boy in the dim fades to the words, "Aster..." He slowly drifts away from me, and I feel myself reaching out my fingers, feeling a sadness I cannot comprehend—I don't know him.
"Aster."
I flutter my eyes open to Rome crawling on the mattress, his heavy weight rocking me from side to side as he climbs over me.
"My king," I whisper in my sleepy daze, but the sadness clings to me for a few conscious moments longer.
Then warm lips seal my mouth and flood my heart with love and contentment.
Heat blankets my skin as his kisses deepens, and his hands trail over my body, seeking, searching, worshipping. I should be frightened by how large his palms are, how much surface they cover, how possessive his grip is.
But I’m not.
His fingers slide between my thighs and find my core wet and warm already.
A moan leaks from my sleepy mouth and into his kiss.