His glassy, fractured blue eyes pan to her. “My sweet sister.” He rasps as the doctor stabs a tube into his upper ribcage. A hiss escapes the puncture hole. “Do you forgive me?”
“Please, please.” I sob, choking on my tears. “Stop talking like this.”
“I never blamed you, Rome.” Her voice cracks down the centre. I look at her as sorrowful streams course down her smooth, tanned cheeks. “Not for a second. Please just keep breathing. You were made for this world, remember? Indestructible.”
My eyes sting, pools clouding my vision of him as he reaches for my face again. I help him, holding his big, cool palm to my wet cheek.
He isn’t warm.
But he is always warm…
“I got to love you and be loved by you.” His eyes are glossy and dazed as if he is staring into a brilliant fire when he is merely staring at me. “If The Crust is a place, little creature. It is where I spend my days making you smile.”
My heart breaks, and I crumble to his chest. Not just hearing his words— But feeling them.
“Ready.” The doctor’s voice is directed over my head. “We need to get him into the tank now and to the Trade-tower. No one else. Just Sire. We need all the space for medical personnel. You understand, my queen?”
No. A bit more time.
When three men slide Rome onto a stretcher, his hand slides from me, its absence mournful. I stumble to my feet to catch his expression, but his eyes… His eyes.
They are closed.
They carry him to the tank, and my entire body trembles. My eyes believe the scene now, finally caught up with my brutal reality.
And I wonder if this is some kind of message from The Cradle. For breaking my vows. For wanting more than is offered. For jealousy and trying to change the order of things. For asking questions, loving and being loved. And for envisioning first-lights with a baby in a cot beside our bed.
Is this punishment…
Then Tuscany puts her arm around me, and Ana stops on my other side. We stand as a Collective, watching the tank drive away with our king inside.
Chapter Seventeen
Rome
Closing my eyes in the square of the old-world abbey, only to open them in the highest tech laboratory in The Cradle, is quite the fucking contrast.
Access to this underground centre beneath the Trade-tower requires a biometric scan, but doctors continue to crowd inside to view their king’s latest additions. No—enhancements. Aster called them enhancements, so that is what they are.
As I stare at my reflection, bare chest and dark pants, it dawns on me that I appear more like my father, Turin of The Strait, than ever before. Huge. Broad across the chest, carved and marred; long arms and massive hands that have felt death. Titanium plate in my left shoulder. Magnesium alloy in my shin.
Bullets as trophies.
This is what a king looks like.
At least, that is what I always believed.
Eyes scale my form. Watch each large breath. My new lung has the doctors nodding approvingly. The success of it is mainly due to its biocompatibility—Xin De genus approved.
This laboratory is spacious yet utilitarian. The walls leading to the centre are painted dark grey, and the corridor lights are dim—a warren of ambiguity. However, inside the research areas, the overhead beams spot even the dust.
My monstrous size casts a shadow. I peer down at it, grief striking, sinking its essence into my cells like a poisoned blade. Odio. My shadow for nearly two decades. Dead. Gone.
Shutting my eyes, I breathe through the anguish in my chest. The restricting pressure. I fight the urge to clutch at it.
I remind myself that Aster is safe. Imagine her face, her smile, her lips, her soft body writhing beneath mine, visions that will ease this tight, painful mourning.
She is safe…
Aster and Tuscany have been escorted back to The Estate under Kong’s watchful guard… I don’t like it, but if I trust any man, it is him.
I fucking love her.
I stare at myself, frowning.
So, while I appear more like Turin in this moment, I am nothing like him. I feel deep affection, deep jealousy, and deep rage. My temper has always been a problem; I was never apathetic.
Rome of The Strait.
The Volatile King.
“We require some privacy.” Cairo approaches, dressed in his purple robe, strolling smoothly, unhurried, circling me like a noose as the doctors leave the room.
“You look like a king, Sire.” He muses. “I always know where you are. When I heard of the storm, I sent tanks out after you.”
“Very considerate.”
He laughs and stops in front of me. “I will keep you alive, Sire. It is my duty to The Cradle. And you happen to have a pregnant Silk Girl and the queen with you. Traveling with very precious possessions. I am surprised, given your affection for them both.”
The knowing words slide through me, weigh me down, heavy with meaning. “Say it, Cairo.”
His brows lift to his hairline. “Have I ever lied to you, Rome?”
“I have never caught you.”
He laughs again. “You are lying to me.”
“Aster and I—”
His lip quirks. “Aster and I?”
Turning to face him, I widen my stance, expanding my shadow until it creeps toward his shoes. “Will keep our heirs in The Estate,” I continue, staunch. “We will raise them. They will each be given an eagle and a Guardian. This is the way I want it. And the Silk Girls from her Collective will have access to their babies.”
He stares at me, a smile sliding into place. Fit for a Trade Master. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I told you I know you, and it is true. Part of my Trade is to understand you, your motivations and your needs.” He clasps his hands at his waist. “If we put babes in citizen’s arms, the people are weak. If we allow Silk Girls to nurse, we lose them as breeders. Girls cannot focus on a man when a babe is present. History shows this.”
I deadpan, give nothing away.
For once.
“But put all that aside,” he adds, standing with seamless confidence despite my towering physique. “We are also still healing the land. The ruins have communities in the thousands. Tens of thousands in Ruins E. And across The Mainland, the Half-tower regresses, and pockets of land are overrun with Endigo, unmonitored and uncharted. We do not have the resources to warden them all, so as long as they remain peaceful, we leave them to their own devices. Correct? Use them when we need, but The Cradle is dangerous. You have just experienced this—what happens when a Silk Girl and a queen play outside the pretty walls we built for them.”
A heavy sigh leaves me.
He continues, “The babies must be kept safe at all costs. No one can know where they are kept. We cannot allow visitors in the nurseries.”
His monotone lecture causes my upper lip to curl and a depthless growl to slip through my teeth. With blood or bargain, I will have this. “I am not asking. I am demanding.”
“A king demands.” Cairo takes me in. “A king claims. Rome, you want to change hundreds of years of law. This is not an easy task.”
Volatility prowls inside me. “It won’t be the first time a king changes the rules to suit his own interests.”