Page 37 of Born for Silk
She presses her hand to her frantic heart. “I suppose that I could do more?—"
“Don't panic yourself,” he offers, leaning forward again, and she exhales hard. “I'm not asking you to do anything outside of your Trade, Paisley. I never will.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“That was scary? Wasn’t it? The unexpected? My expectations? Not knowing what I needed. Overwhelming. I am sure you would prefer the comfort of the boundaries given by The Trade. And something always has to give—if we try to be too much. It's why a Silk Girl must not revel in grand ideas. She is to be singularly focused on producing. One can't be available to their lord, focused on his needs, if they dream of adventures. Their true Meaningful Purpose would suffer. Wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, Master. Have I done something wrong?”
He smiles smoothly. “No, Paisley. Good girl. You may go back to your Purpose.”
With a quick curtsy, she scurries away.
“Wonderful speech,” I note. “Who was it for?”
I stop in front of The Trade Master, and he stands, offering me the slightest bow before sitting again. Ever the traditionalist, nothing stops him from his sequence of interactions and customs.
“Rome. You cannot execute a Wardeness without a trial,” he states as he returns to his screen.
“I don’t intend to.”
“Good. I have booked it in two first-lights. We will travel together when you wake tomorrow. The Wardeness was born in the Lower-tower and so she will be trialled there, and this will give us an opportunity to meet with the Trade men at the weir, it is on the way, and they need to see your interest in their Purpose.” He looks at me, intrigue well-hidden on his face. Not well enough. I know you, fucker. “What was the Wardeness’ crime?”
I deadpan. “She was careless with my property.”
“The little Silk Girls. Iris and Aster. She took them on an outing, correct? Without permission.”
He knows the answer.
I nod, curt. “Yes.”
He returns to his screen. “I watched the young Silk Girls leave the tank. The redhead seemed perfectly formed. Were there any issues with her that you noticed?”
“I didn’t.”
I didn’t notice her at all.
“But you travelled with the other? Aster? Am I right? To what purpose did you need to accompany her?” he says, not asking the question he actually wants. “She must have needed something to warrant your attention?”
Does he know she was one of the babies taken from the Common community during my first campaign? Would he remember? We have harvested hundreds of babes since that day, so I wouldn’t know how deep his recall goes.
I wouldn’t put it past him to remember each baby.
“I met her at the parlour weeks ago,” I state, withholding that piece of detail. “She was wounded when I arrived, and the CR Guard was having a field day with the campaign. I played along, for once.”
He clicks his tongue, dubious. “I see. She seemed perfectly formed. Clean. Pretty. Is she well in all other senses?”
Clean. Pretty. “Her sigil was cut off and her tongue was lacerated,” I say plainly.
“But she has been with the doctor for four days, yes?” He reads his answer on the screen. “The tongue is healing nicely, and so is the skin graft. We can brand her again once it’s fully taken. But I have not been able to see either girl, as I’ve been occupied by the lords’ imminent visit. Either way, we don’t need her tongue or her voice, but trauma is generational. Epigenetics can change the path of DNA forever. Transfers from babe to babe. Are you certain you want her Meaningful Purpose carried out with a member of your Collective? There are other Silk Girls from other Silk Aviaries to choose from. If this Wardeness is as careless as you have seen, perhaps these girls need to be placed with lower value Trade men— a Guard perhaps.”
Like fuck they will.
The past week I have spent balls deep inside most of my House Girls trying to fuck out the thought of her. I’ve been out of my mind, fierce, and hurt one of them badly.
And forgetting her?
It didn’t work.