True Silk

chapter iv | A Subtle Accusation

SAVANAH WAS BROUGHT TO THE QUARTERS WHERE THE BITCHES STAYED. To my knowledge – and I mean as I've heard – they live comfortably in another wing of the house. They don't usually work like Vassals and they eat and sleep very well, if not then that's due to punishment.

I, on the other hand, was going to get my own room. Soon as it was ready. As for now, I'd take rest in the King's quarters.

And it was practically all to myself when he informed me that he had business that needed tending to.

His room wasn't as big as one might think a King would have, but it was still quite roomy. He didn't have a four-poster bed. It had a solid headboard – no footboard – and whilst the wood was dark, the bedding was a light shade of grey. The satin pillows were black and rather fluffy, might I add. On either side of a wall column, of which the bed rested against, were two double-hung windows.

Beneath the front legs of the bed, was a rug that awfully resembled white wood tiling.

To the left of the bed – which, technically, if one were actually lying on the bed then it would be their right – was a dresser made of the same type of wood as the bed frame with three drawers. Atop of that lie a lamp, an empty plate, and a short glass of water.

On the wall to my right, a pair more dressers, though the one closest to the wall was taller on only had one column of drawers. Above it was a beige, black, and dark brown painting. The other one had an old-fashioned lamp, a plant beside that, and a mirror behind it.

The walls – save for that which the best laid against – were made of white brick. Cypress wood flooring.

His room was practically . . . unadorned.

I presupposed that it would be much more spectacular than this. Four-poster mahogany, perhaps even a canopy. A high-ceiling.

Shifting to my right, I saw a wide closet door made up of mirror glass and a corduroy glass door with a black frame just a couple yards from the closet. I turned the crystal glass knob on the door and found a bathroom. Literally, it was a bathroom. No toilet, only a shower, bath, and a sink – separated by a wall – with a mirror.

It was almost exactly the same as the bedroom.

I walked back out and plopped down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. It was quite comfortable whereas we had never had beds in the Seam. We slept on cots in what used to the gymnasium of a high school. Some of us even had pallets. But never mattresses. Those were for the rich – a fact decided after the Seven Wars.

'The Seven Wars?' you may ask. 'I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is.'

Simple. World War III. Except this particular one was fought in every continent of the world. And it wasn't Humans vs. Humans – not unless one had sided against the general population of mortals. It was Humans vs. Demons and Vampires.

Undoubtedly, I'd never had certain school lessons. Not many females did. But that particular material was drilled into my brain the moment I was captured and shoved into the territory of Crystal Squares.

My wonderful capture . . .

I gazed up at the ceiling silently, wondering what had happened to my mother. I hadn't seen her after the fire, after the bombs, after the men. She could be alive and well for all I know. Or she could've been hanged or murdered somewhere I couldn't see. Or maybe . . .

I didn't let myself think about it. It was something that need to be thought about. That image was something terrible to imagine.

Curling up on my side, I let myself drift to sleep for a couple hours. Why not when I'd been deprived of a good night's rest for, relatively, some time now? I'll be fine. I reminded myself that this was the King's room and that it was guarded on high security levels. No one would be able to harm me here.

And, oddly enough, I closed my eyes and slept dreamlessly.

One of the times that I awoke during the middle of the night – and I was only awake for a few moments before I crashed once more – I awoke to the sound of a shower running. Light was pouring through the edges of the bathroom door.

Not an hour later, I was conscious again. Under the covers, my back pressed against something so frigid that the coolness seeped through my clothing. An arm wrapped around my waist in protecting manner. As if I were being comforted.

Went back to sleep, not bothering to ponder over what was going on. I just wanted to sleep well for once.

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THE NEXT I GRADUALLY peeled open my eyes, I was greeted by the sun, bright and jubilant as ever. It never failed to blind me in its reckless glare.

Fortunately for me, I was not tired. On the other hand, I was feeling just a little woozy when I pulled myself up out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Despite it being nearly seventy degrees Fahrenheit, this room was a little chilly.

That, and I was now dressed in a grey, scalloped lace chemise with lined cups.

"H-He . . . changed me," I stated to myself, quiet, skeptical. "Unbeli – "

"What?" said a soft, mocking voice. My head shot up to see a tall broad figure standing in front of the full-sized closet mirror. In the reflection, I saw the King draw the end of a silk bow, then push his middle finger beneath his collar and press it back and forth. "Can't believe that I dressed you, Pet? You are, after all, my Domestic."

I raised my hand to my throat, fingering the little pendant. As if I didn't already know. "Well, I . . . "

He chuckled deeply at my loss of words. "Come here, Pet," he enjoined.

At his command, I should've jumped to my feet and crawled to him. However, I only stood up languidly – or at least pretending to be tranquil – and fraughtingly padded over to him.

I realised that his presence was what made the room so unbearably chilly.

When I stood in front of him, he shoved the silk ribbon – which was his bow – in his pocket. "Would you be a dear and unbutton my shirt for me?"

Did he really need me to do that? I doubt it. But instead of voicing this, I simply nodded my head like a good little female, adding, "Yes, My King." I might've sounded confident with my sardonicism, but my hand shook quite noticeably as I lifted my hands to his shirt.

I felt his hands on me as I tremulously undid the buttons of his shirt. With each popped button, more and more of what was beneath was revealed.

Stupefied to discover that half of his waist was kissed with Taints – his left arm had only half a sleeve. A wolf. A screaming, tormented face. A skull. Dark abyss like that of an opened wound where his heart should have been, the edges of torn skin giving away that it'd been ripped out – or t least to make it look like that. Bamboo trees and leaves in the background. On his arm, Angel feathers. Plucked, Angel feathers. That must've been painful, I thought, grimacing. But the Taints made it seem so beautiful.

But that's the point of it, right?

"You . . . " I was astonished, without words. " . . . have . . . Taints."

"Thank you for telling me something I already know," he husked, sardonically, peeling the shirt from his wrists. When I blinked it was gone. I gazed about but I didn't see it anymore.

I stared at his Taints and thought of my own. Involuntarily, I stopped breathing. How he said he would deal with it. Is that why he called me up to him?

"Actually, Pet. It is." My eyes widened and I gazed up at him. The King twirled his finger. "Turn." I quivered in fear but pivoted. "I only got a glance earlier," he notified, pulling the chemise's strap over my shoulder. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, cool. His finger curled the interjection of my left arm and shoulder, the pad of his thumb silhouetting my wretched, pathetic little mark of a Taint, what with all those he had.

"A wolf by your dreamcatcher. Rather quaint for a nineteen-year-old girl, don't you think?"

I stirred on my feet, unaware of the word 'quaint'. "Well, I . . . didn't choose it," I resolved carefully. I didn't want to say where I got it from or who chose it or who gave it to me. I didn't know how exceptionally far the King's resources truly went, and didn't want to take any chance of him having them tracked and murdered so ruthlessly. "It was a surprise birthday present, My King."

"Hmm. I bet it was." I furrowed my brows. There was a strange tone in his voice. An unfamiliar tweek in the sounds of his words. "I know, Mávena," he whispered, suddenly quite close to my ear. "I know you weren't always with Crystal Squares. Your records only exist for eight years, whilst being nineteen." Stiff as an old oak, I peered at him from the edge of my eye. I was less focused on his words where I stood, though tense, shivering from the little space between his mouth and my ear.

"BROTHER!"

An angry – no – infuriated, sing-song voice yelled from the hallway outside. Thank the stars above he pulled away, dropping his accusations, at least just for now.