Page 42 of Born for Silk

The pregnant one puts her brown hand on my knee, tapping softly. “I’m Lantana, but you can call me Ana. You are the most interesting thing to me. Seriously. I have seen you in the garden, like a wraith. Half doped-up. White skin. Black hair. And you are so lovely, I wanted to stare at you all day. I wasn’t sure that you were real. But my lord whispered to me at night, that you have been through quite an ordeal.”

“Maybe I’m not real.”

They all laugh—except for Iris. I didn’t mean to be funny, but their smiles become contagious. I think my bully gauge is in a state of sleeping.

Maybe this is what being a Silk Girl is meant to be? I wouldn’t mind that at all.

“That was a successful meal,” Paisley says as we walk through the Silk Girl Wing, under arches of wooden rafters adorned with gold and purple licks of metallic. “Follow me. I think it’s time you settle into your forever room in The Circle.”

Forever room.

That means it’s going to happen. A lord will choose me. I’ll grow babies, eat the most glorious food, and dance ballet. My entire life has been leading to this moment.

Floral wallpaper seems to move with us and stop— When we pause, it is outside a guarded door.

“Hello,” Paisley greets, and the man at the door nods. He is dressed in full black, tactical leather armour, his head high, eyes level.

He steps aside, allowing us to enter.

This new room seems to be a kind of holding space with two painted footprints in the centre of the floor. There is another door, and it’s made from an aged wood; I can tell by the veins and burns. Carved into the centre are flowers of all kinds and bird feathers woven through the foliage. Small birds—not eagle feathers.

“I’ll show you what to do.” Paisley walks to the spot, stepping onto the prints. “Stand by the wall.”

Leaning against the wall, I watch as a white beam glides down her body, before beeping.

“What is that?”

“It is to check that I am well. And you, too. The Silk Girls sleep in here. No one enters besides the lords and the Watchers. You each have one. I’m yours. You will need to do that each time you enter and leave The Circle, or the door will not open for you.”

She waves me over. “Your turn.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You won’t feel anything.”

I step up to the prints and place a foot on each. The beam begins to slide down my body, and I feel nothing at all. Can it read my mind? My mind isn’t entirely well. Can it tell I am nervous? My heart is a vigorous little thing in my chest.

It beeps, and I exhale hard.

“One final thing.” She points at a dot on the wall. “Press your upper arm to the dot.”

Breathing shallowly, I walk over and press my arm to the black dot, imagining it might measure me. My weight activates something mechanical inside the wall.

“It will beep twice,” she advises, coming up to me. “Then it gives you a little pin prick.” She holds me still. “Ready?”

Pardon?

Beep.

Beep.

I wince at the little prick.

“See, easy.” She steps aside, giving me space. “Every first-light when you start your day, you must have your shot, or the door will not open for you. It’s a special serum, with a concentration of vitamins and minerals. Formulated specifically for a Silk Girl.”

I rub my upper arm, repeating the tasks in my mind; beam every time I enter or leave; arm prick each first-light when I leave to start my day. I understand. “You don’t get one?”

“I don’t get one. Let’s go.” She guides me through the pretty door, and I brush the wood with my fingertips wondering if the old tree has memories in its splinters. Tales of the sun, heavy winds, and giant birds of prey.