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)
“You look like a whore, Jasina. Why are your clothes always so… slutty?”
I don’t even break my smile. Or eye contact. This is my moment, not his. He is nothing but a partner. Completely replaceable. I am Chosen. And I think this is part of the reason he’s so mean to me when we dance. No one is looking at him tonight. His suit is very nice, but every partner in this ballroom is wearing that very same suit. It’s nothing but a uniform.
My dress, on the other hand, is spectacular. My light display, while simple, was original and people loved it.
And he knows this. Everyone is looking at me and this dress and they are thinking about my spark. All the most spectacular photographs of this year’s First Choosing will be of me.
Donal will probably be there for some of them—the society page writers can’t not mention him—but he will be nothing but a small side note and I will be the main event.
When he doesn’t get a rise out of me, he takes it a step further, squeezing my hand until the little bones of my fingers are being painfully pressed into each other. “It’s always so over the top with you, Jasina. I get it, you’ve got no proper role models down-city—just the tavern sluts and the tattooed strippers—but come on.” He pauses here to chuckle. “You’ve been coming up-city for etiquette classes for six years now, surely you’ve window-shopped the latest fashions. There’s no excuse for all that… fluff.”
He looks down at my tulle skirts for a moment, then back up at me, meeting my gaze. He smiles, his green eyes bright with wicked malice. And his next few words come out low, barely a whisper. “It’s like you want everyone to see you as something for sale. Are you for sale, Jasina? How many coins will it cost me if I take you into a tunnel, push your face into a wall, lift up all that fluff, and fuck you in the ass?”
It’s… gross. And it used to make me mad when he said things like this to me when we danced, but I forced myself to ignore him. He typically gives up if I don’t give him a reaction. But I’m just tired of it now and I can’t bite my tongue this time. “Donal,” I say, my voice a low whisper, just as his was. “Your father doesn’t even have enough coin to buy me, sweetie. Though he did try, much to your mother’s dismay. So don’t worry your pretty little head about how much I cost, dear boy, I’m way out of your league.”
His mouth forms a chuckle, but I can see the anger dancing in his narrowed eyes.
He’s about to retort with something equally hateful, but the music changes and this is our cue. A moment later I’m spinning away, right into the hands of my next partner.
Reid Bladen is the complete opposite of Donal Oslin, though they do run in the same crowd. Reid is Lucindy’s partner, and this makes me very happy because he’s everything Donal is not and Lucindy is the sweetest little rebel this war will ever see.
Also, Reid is a nice buffer as far as the opening dance goes. I get four minutes with him, then I move on to another of the boys in the same clique, Murray Gray, who is partnered with Ceela. But the time spent with each partner gets shorter and shorter after Reid, so I don’t worry too much about who is guiding me across the glossy stone floors. And instead I concentrate on all the details around me.
Who is standing front-row of the crowded dancefloor beyond the bright lights where the Little Sisters dance? Who is up in the balconies? Is anyone unhappy? Anyone have a frown? Who is laughing loudly? Who is already drunk?
I’m good with details and my memory has been trained to retain things since I was a small child, so this is what I do for the remainder of the dance—I soak it all up so I can report back later.
And then it’s over. We stop and I clap. My ending partner is Bruce Cadwell, Harlow’s date for the night, and he claps too. Sometimes he’s mean to me, but he didn’t say anything at all to me tonight and when I look up at him, I find his eyes searching the room until finally, they land on Harlow. Probably preoccupied with the idea he might get his face under that dress of hers.
I turn away from that, absolutely not looking around for Donal, and instead lift my gaze up to the balconies where the Maidens are.
Just the three of them now. Usually, there would be nine and the entire balcony would be overflowing with the big skirts of gorgeous silk dresses. But tonight, the balcony looks empty and they look lonely.