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)
“Please, Auntie.” I whimper these words, more angry than afraid. But she doesn’t want a strong woman, she wants a weak one. She’s always wanted a weak one. That’s what I am to her. Something… pitiable. Pliable. Disposable. A mongrel. So I become that girl. I put up my hands, like I’m afraid she might strike me, and project a sense of weakness and cowardice—the complete opposite of how I see myself. Or how I thought of myself before this encounter, anyway. “I’ll get the information. I swear!”
Auntie Bell seems to grow bigger above me. Like my fear—pretend, or maybe not—is enough to build her up. “You’d better, Jasina. I’m warning you. Do not cross us. The consequences will be catastrophic for you.”
I nod, breathing heavy—some of which is not entirely faked—and stand back upright, though careful not to look her in the eyes at the same time. I hunch my shoulders and move towards the door again. She’s still got a hold of my hair and for a moment, I’m not sure she’ll let it go. Maybe she plans on walking me back to the dorm like a dog on a leash?
But then I’m free. And I don’t walk away calmly or with any kind of dignity, I take off running.
When I get back to the dorm, Ceela, Britley, Harlow, and Lucindy are already there, busy sorting fabrics for dressmaking. Our next gala is in three days, so that’s how long we have to make our gowns.
Lucindy looks up from a pile of silk. “There you are! Where did you go?”
I shake my head. “Later, Lucindy. I need to…” But I don’t have a word ready for what I need, because what I need is… clarity. Time. A fucking drink and maybe even a pipe filled with sunweed. “I need to use the restroom,” I say, because it’s the only thing that will get me some privacy without question. “Be right back.”
I force a smile as I slide past, into other spaces, and I just keep going. Not towards my own nook, but around more corners, and down more hallways, and into more sunken spaces, and up more empty stairwells, and again, I have to wonder why the hell this place is so palatial with enough beds for hundreds of girls when there are only meant to be seventy-five.
It doesn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about my world makes sense right now.
By accident—or maybe not—I find myself standing in front of the doorway that leads to the secret passageway and I have an almost uncontrollable urge to pull it open and run to Finn.
But he’s not even there. There were dozens of girls in line after me. He’ll be busy until late afternoon, I’m sure.
Jasina, you’re an idiot. My self-deprecating words slither around in my head like a serpent. Running to him is a mistake because you outed yourself as a freaking spy!
That was really stupid. In fact, that henchman of his—Mitchell Davies—is probably on his way to collect me right now. Then what? I’ll be kicked out of the Little Sisters and—
Stop. That’s not how it’s gonna go, Jasina. If Finn was going to out you today, he would’ve done it right there at your meeting.
This calms me because it makes sense. He wants something from me. He didn’t exactly invite me back, but he didn’t tell me not to when I made the offer. Mitchell Davies is not coming to get me. Not yet, anyway.
I catch my breath and I look at anything but that door.
I turn back to the stairs and go down, looking for a bathroom so I can wash my face and then slip into the sewing room and get to work on my next dress. But that’s when I see that book again. The same spine that was sticking out of the stacks the last time I was walking around this space.
I pull off the shelf and stare at the cover. The Godslayer and His Courtesan.
I know the story. The kids’ version, not this one—which is something much more than a child’s tale because this is a thick tome and not a picture book. Actually, the best clue is the subtitle, which reads, The Untold History.
Interesting. Because this implies that it’s not a myth, the way it was portrayed in the children’s book I had as a child, but something more.
The tale of the Godslayer and his Courtesan isn’t just one story, it’s dozens. They are all different—they even happen in different places. Even different periods of time. But they all have a common theme—the Godslayer’s love for his Courtesan.
But they also have a common conflict. Every tale starts with them being separated. The Courtesan is kidnapped, the Godslayer loses his memory. She falls into an alternate reality, he has to go on a mission. Of course they always reunite in the end. But if I recall correctly, some of the tales were rather dramatic close calls.