Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Even though the lights are out, the windows are so massive that all three moons in the night sky find a way to shine across the room. Cautiously, I start exploring, walking over to the stairwell first and peeking over the side of the railing. It spirals down another three levels.
But I don’t even consider going down there. The room I need tonight is up here, so whatever is happening downstairs can wait.
The problem is, there’s not much up here. It looks like an observation deck. There’s a desk, the door disguised as a bookshelf, another bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, and a scope that I know from school is used to observe the night sky, but that’s pretty much it. I do carefully, and quietly, riffle through the desk drawers, but there’s nothing in there but writing paper and pencils. No personal items of any kind.
I really need to get in that room. It’s not just for Auntie’s approval, either. It’s for the greater good. I have been chosen to make a difference in the lives of the people of Tau City. Me. Jasina Bell. I am the Rebellion’s secret spy. My name—if I succeed—will go down in history. I will be the reason why the Rebellion triumphs over the evil god. People will talk about me far, far into the future. I don’t even care if I die trying, either. Would I love to mooch off the taxpayers of Tau City for ten years the way Clara Birch did? Yes. Yes, I would. I would take that life if that’s what I was handed.
But I feel like things are progressing in a weird fast-forward way. In fact, I’m starting to get the feeling that there will be no next Extraction. I mean, Finn was pretty clear tonight. First the outburst on the God’s Tower stage and then, plain as can be, he told Mitchell Davies that he wasn’t going to go through with it.
This is when I remember that he almost spilled a secret tonight. A secret about something the Council told him.
Yes. Things have changed around here. I could feel them changing—slowly—as the Maidens were uncharacteristically called into the tower over the years. But Clara Birch’s Extraction tonight is most definitely a turning point and things seem to have reached a precipice.
As far-fetched as it seems, there might not be another Extraction. And if that’s the case, things will fall apart very quickly. Three months, that’s all we have. That’s when the next Extraction Maidens are Chosen and number one is supposed to walk through those tower doors.
Two weeks ago, if you had told me that the Extraction was on the verge of being obliterated, I would’ve agreed—because that’s my mission as a rebel—but I would not have believed it.
Tonight? Tonight it feels not just possible, but inevitable. The wind has turned. The sands have shifted.
The Rebellion could end this in a matter of weeks. And I might be the one to make all that happen.
Forget the gowns, and the coin, and the galas. I need to take every risk. I need to make every sacrifice. I need to be the one who takes down Finn Scott, Tau City’s last Extraction Master. And I don’t care if I die doing it—at least my life will have made a difference.
So I’m going to check the room. Just a tiny peek. It’s not even a risk. Not really. He’s been drinking and by the way he was slouched against the door, it was obvious that it was affecting him. He’s probably already passed out.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk to the door, grasp the handle, and, ever so slowly, twist. It doesn’t squeak and when I apply a little pressure, it opens just a crack. Just enough for me to see what’s inside.
I gasp. Not loud, but Finn, who is not sleeping, but only hunched over on the… desk—I’m not sure if that’s the right word for circular piece of glass in the middle of the room, but there’s no time to really take in what I’m actually looking at—because he stirs, straightens up, and is just about to look over his shoulder when I pull back, leaving the door slightly ajar, and start running across the room, back to the bookshelf.
I’m just reaching for it when behind me he says, “Clara?”
I stop, holding my breath. Clara? How could he mistake me for Clara? Not only do I have red hair and she has blonde, but he just sent her into the tower like an hour ago. Is he that drunk?
A smile creeps up my face. Maybe he is.
“Clara.” Her name comes out sharp this time.
“Yes,” I answer. But I do not turn.
He exhales. “I knew that was you.”
I hold my breath in, not daring to move. Am I caught? I’m not sure. He’s wasted. Not sloppy wasted, though. He’s not slurring his words like the men down-city in the taverns where the whores work. But I can smell the whiskey from here. Plus, there is no way to mistake me for Clara Birch if one is not completely smashed. Forget about my red hair, we’re not even the same height.