Page 41 of Born for Lace

Oh, no.

My chest tightens.

“I can’t,” I say. Closing my eyes, I sigh hard. I’m not her… I’m not Sweets. I realise at this moment, while a spice trader and another man with butter cloaked in a dark shadow await my decision, that I don’t want to be merely a body. I want companionship. Accompany, relieve, and soothe—my Trade.

Tide’s words cascade back in waves of disappointment.‘You can take the man out of the trade, but you can’t take the trade out of the man.’

I open my eyes. “I’m sorry, Sweets. I don’t think I can do this.” I almost say, maybe tomorrow, maybe another night, I can try, but the words are merely a blanket to suffocate my guilt. I let her down. I don’t want to have sex with a stranger, even if it is one of life’s great experiences.

Recoiling, I am readying myself for her sneer, accepting it, even, when a loose smile forms on her lips. “Keep the clothes.” That is all she says before approaching the drifter with the bad news. I can’t listen to her excuses, so I stride from The House.

Can’t look back.

I purse my lips and frown. At this point, I couldn’t imagine a deeper sense of shame. Eyes cast downward, I cross the stony walkway and head toward Tide’s boat. The street lamps glow a deep, moody red, so I know it’s past midnight, but I don’t fear the eerie night time atmosphere because my embarrassment and guilt are killing me just fine.

Still in my stockings and corset, I approach the old dinghy. Tide is unpacking, throwing the canopy back, ready to hit the black seas and work into first-light. Out there alone on the crashing waves. Haze-suffocated stars probably glimmer behind sheets of thick red mist. I imagine that night time in the old-world would have been beautiful, and people would gather outside just to stare dreamily at the sky.

I sigh, but it must be dangerous at sea now in the almost pitch black with the hungry swelling waves.

I grip my hips and stare at Tide, all alone. Yes, I am lonely.But I have him.

The Bite is quiet at this time of night, gloomy and still. I’ve not ventured outside at this time before. Usually, I would be in bed with Spero, awakened by baby cries or obnoxious groans from the adjacent rooms. This is a nice change.

“I wanted to make you ginger cookie dough.” I stop beside his boat. I don’t know why I’m here but seeing him floods me with relief. My reluctant friend—my only friend. “I couldn’t get any.”

He lifts his head and squints, playing at not recognising me. “What are you wearing there?”

“Sweets’ clothes.” I sit down on the edge of the rock, the same place I sat two weeks ago when we first spoke. “I wanted to know what it felt like to be her,” I admit.

He huffs, amused. “You should just be yourself.”

“I don’t know who I am.”

That laugh rattles from his chest; I’ve become very fond of it. “You’re you. Bits of every place you have been and every person you have spoken to. Unique.”

“Sheis unique.” Fiddling with the end of my skirting, my nails brush my naked thighs, sending goosebumps across my skin. “I’m just my Trade. Even in this,” I say, smoothing the pretty cream material over my lap. “There are hundreds of me, of Lace Girls. We are all the same.”

“There’s already one of her.”

I lift a brow at him. “That’s a little confusing.”

Watching him hunched over the boat, his old body shaky, I realise how much I’ll miss him when I leave in a week. He’s a grumpy Trade Fisher who can’t smell and doesn’t want any friends or help, but he likes me. Even if he won’t admit it.

“You like me, hey?”

“You’re very annoying.”

I take that as a yes, revel in it for a moment, and almost miss the way his face falls. His eyes widen on something over my shoulder. Rising to his feet, his mouth moves. It takes me a couple of seconds to make out the words.

“Get behind me, Dahlia.”

My spine stiffens, locking me in place while my head turns just as a large black figure approaches like a wraith. Only now do I realise just how dark it is. He is towering over me in an instant, moving faster than my mind can follow.

But I know who it is.

The drifter from The House drags me to my feet with one hand and turns me to face Tide. My eyes widen as my friend’s expression shifts from helplessness to horror.

I go to scream, but the man covers my mouth and snarls into my ear.

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