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)
But before he can answer me the massive double doors to the main hall open and we both glance in that direction as the Little Sisters begin to file through in neat lines.
Mitch looks back at me, standing up. “We’ll talk later, but I do know more.” He doesn’t wait for me to say anything back, just turns and walks away, leaving me alone at the head of the room. When I look out at the Little Sisters every pair of eyes is on me.
The Matrons are in charge of this event so I don’t really have to do anything. Just sit here, stand when the girls approach, then sit down and have a quick chat. Mitch has left the notes for me, so I glance down and read them off. What’s your name? Why are you here? What would you do if you were Chosen as number one? It’s all very simple. It’s just gonna take all day because there are seventy-five girls here.
In a little over two weeks’ time I will eliminate twenty-five of them. Three weeks after that, twenty-five more. Then, at the final Choosing three weeks later, we will have our top ten. Number one is chosen on the actual Extraction Day.
So they don’t have time to panic, I guess.
Little Sisters come up to the table one by one. All bright-eyed and pretty, and wearing those tight tunics and scapular aprons that should cover up their curves, but only end up making them even more alluring.
I try to focus on each of them. Their first meeting with me is a big deal, after all. I am the man in charge of their futures. Do they still think that this is a good thing? That being a Spark Maiden is the pinnacle of success for a young, beautiful, social-climbing woman? Is it still a chance to change one’s fortune and future, maybe for generations?
Well, I hate to break it to you ladies, but you’re the end of an era, not the beginning. None of you have a future.
“Extraction Master?”
“Hmm?” I look back at the brown-eyed teenager sitting across from me. She’s probably the youngest of the bunch, having only just turned eighteen the day before the deadline. Barely squeaking in by the width of a hair.
“Am I… boring you?”
“Of course not. I heard everything you said. Your story of perseverance through the written tests was”—I force myself to say the words—“simply inspiring.” Then I smile big at her and stand up. Which is a signal for her to leave now.
She is unable to hide her disappointment. But she does get to her feet when a footman appears behind her to pull out her chair and she murmurs out a less-than-polite, “Thank you,” as she wanders off.
The Little Sisters are not allowed to line up—they must stay in their seats until it’s their turn—so I have no idea how far into this ordeal I am. All I know is that it’s not over because yet another young woman stands up from a table and turns in my direction.
She is a redhead. Little bits on the side are braided and tied back to reveal her pale, heart-shaped face, but the rest is left to fall down her back like a cape, nearly to her waist.
Her blue eyes are locked on mine and… what is that emotion flashing across them as she makes her way up the center aisle of the room towards me? Recognition?
For a moment I lose my breath. I can’t think. I can’t even move. Because I know her.
She comes up to the table, eyes cast down, and curtseys. “Extraction Master.” It’s an overly long curtsey. Like a full two seconds too long. But I don’t care that her etiquette is imperfect—even though I should because this is the whole point of the today’s fucking meeting—I’m just glad for these extra seconds so I can stare at her, then pull myself together before those eyes find mine again.
“Please.” I pan my hand to the chair behind her as the footman approaches. “Sit.”
She does and I follow, finally interested in what is happening around me. Because this is the girl from my dream. The girl I thought was Clara.
Well, no. That’s not true. I knew she wasn’t Clara, I just didn’t care.
I see her, in my mind’s eye, bent over the back of the couch. Her nightgown pushed up almost to her neck—exposing her round ass and creamy, white thighs.
We stare at each other, wasting some of the precious few moments allotted for this meeting. Then I snap out of it. Because this girl, she was in my private quarters last night.
And she knows I remember her, because she looks terrified.
I lean back in my chair, slouching a little. “Do you have a name?”
“Oh… I… sorry.” She blows out a breath, unable to meet my gaze now. “Jasina. Jasina Bell.”