Page 72 of Born for Silk

I try to fight the nausea that rises in my throat. I don’t know who is speaking anymore. My mind is now a rolling drum, and questions pour out, one after the other.

Why didn’t he come?

Did everyone else get visited?

Did I make a mistake?

Is it because I admitted that I am Fur.

The questions clap between my ears, the warmth of his memory and touch turning to ice in my veins.

Did he visit someone else?

After he was with me?

As if to answer me, three young Trade girls, barely ten years old, step into The Circle from inside Blossom, Daisy, and Iris’s bedrooms. They carry blood-stained sheets. I peer sideways at Iris, but she is already staring at me, her smirk mocks me.

I lock my jaw.

“In case you have forgotten or have breeding-brain, your lord will visit you every night for the next four, and then it will depend on their schedules as to what happens until your next heat.”

My legs get weak.

Wobble.

Give out.

Who am I now?

Filthy Fur Girl.

As the questions and uncertainty assail me, the betrayal in them nests into places deep and visceral.

My body grows weak. In my mind, images rush like a torrent—the Silk Girl from my drawing now bears Iris’s face and Rome is thrusting into her.

The floor suddenly seems to draw nearer, and before I can stop myself, I collide with it.

“Aster!”

Girls huddle around me.

But my mind goes blank.

Chapter Twelve

Aster

As I open my eyes, the blur of an overhead light comes into focus. The scent of sage and sandalwood from a candle or oil burner sails around me.

A shiver rushes down my spine.

I peer down my body, seeing I’m naked and lying on an examination table. The same ones they have at the Silk House for our annual checkups.

Am I at the doctor’s?

But why am I naked?

While my breath struggles in and out of my body, instinct takes over. Unmoving at first, I survey the area, seeing a pair of scissors on a far reflective steel desk.