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)
I shrug off his grip on my arm and look him in the eyes. “There is now. Get it done. I’m taking a shower. Tell the cooks I’ll be down for breakfast in twenty minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
In the morning I am jolted awake by a Matron yelling my name.
I lift my head up, eyes barely open, trying to make out what she’s saying.
“Jasina Bell! Where are you? The Extraction Master has chosen you as the winner of tonight’s private dinner! Get up! Get up! He has also included a spa day and a new dress!”
I sit completely up now, mouth open. What?
“Jasina Bell!” the Matron yells again. “Show yourself right now!”
I push the covers aside, get out of bed, and quickly make my way through the maze of hallways and spaces. When I pass my friends, they each shoot me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen them give anyone. Even Lucindy, which almost breaks my heart.
But I ignore them. I do not take their bait. Instead I lift up my chin, square my shoulders, and walk out into the main dorm until I am standing in the middle of the cyan-blue canal that runs down the center of the beachy carpet.
“Here I am.” My voice is loud and strong. “I’m Jasina Bell.”
If I have to stand alone, I will do so with grace.
The Matron, who is not one I recognize, waves me forward. “Hurry up, then. There’s a lot to do. First, you must stand for the couturier.”
As I walk up the fake canal the other Little Sisters start whispering. Probably wondering why Finn Scott would choose me, of all people. There’s a little part of me that realizes that it is dangerous to arouse suspicion among them. There will be gossip. They will hate me.
But they already hate me. And anyway, once I leave the dorm and arrive at the Maiden District couturier’s boutique, I’ve forgotten all about them. Because this room is filled with the most extravagant fabrics, and intricate lace, and opulent silk I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
This, I decide, is why we volunteer. Because this is the height of luxury.
And I get the distinct feeling that, as a Little Sister, I am not supposed to be here.
The dressmaker is quite tall so when she looks me over, she’s literally sneering down her nose. “You are pretty, but your body has curves. Too many curves. You should mind the weight. It creeps on and never comes off. As it stands, you’re at least a size eight with that ass.”
I could be offended. But why bother? I am a size eight. And anyway, my ass is definitely one of my best assets. Pun intended. And this bitch has to make me a dress. Has to. As in has no choice. So why should I let her bad attitude ruin my day?
I shake my head and raise my chin. Then I start demanding things. I am a rather good dressmaker, and while I am not up to her standards, I have opinions.
She balks at my demand for a sweetheart neckline ball gown. But after I demonstrate that I am not a completely uneducated dressmaker-in-training, she gives me off-the-shoulder sleeves, a dropped-v waistline, and a bare back. Sensing I might challenge her about the waistline, she adds, “I don’t have time for glass beads, even if I commandeer every seamstress in the district. But… it will be entirely made of silk.” Then she winks. “And I won’t make it blue.”
I leave the couturier’s boutique feeling happier than I have all week. Then it’s spa time. And I get the full Spark Maiden treatment. Steam sauna, massage, body scrub, bubble bath, facial, manicure, pedicure, haircut, hairstyle, and makeup.
By the time I arrive back at the couturier’s boutique, I feel like yesterday never happened. Of course, I know it still did. I know that this day isn’t going to fix anything, it’s just going to make it all worse once it’s over.
But I don’t care.
Because when the ladies’ maids finish dressing me and I look in the mirror… well, I’m absolutely certain that even if this night with Finn ends in disaster, it will be worth it.
It is… almost how the couturier described it to me before I left. It is off-the-shoulder, but she has made sheer armlets, giving it a more refined look.
There is a dropped-v waistline, but it comes with a faux corset that hugs my curves and has the most beautiful gold hooks running down my front. I almost can’t stop looking at them.
The back is open, like she promised, but the dress comes with a stole made of so much silk, I could wrap it around my whole body, twice, hiding every bit of skin, should I choose to do so.
And true to her word, none of it is blue. It’s champagne and the lightest of pinks. Just the feeling of these luxurious fabrics draped across my body sends a tingle all the way down to my toes.