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)
Before I was a Spark Maiden, I was a Little Sister. Before I was a Little Sister, I was a Pledge.
I feel like there has never been a time in my life when the god didn’t own me.
My pledge time was only six years because my Extraction happened on my eighteenth year. Some Little Sisters are older, but none are younger than eighteen. If you miss—even by a day—you can’t be in that Extraction group. And the upper cutoff is twenty-four. So, there are many girls in Tau City who by chance of birth never even have the opportunity to pledge their lives to the god in the tower.
Twelve-year-old me would’ve been devastated had that been my case. I was sure—very, very sure—that I was meant to be a Spark Maiden.
Looking back, sixteen years on, I wish it had been the case. I wish I’d chosen another path. One where, yes, I was poor. Sent back down-city to live in squalor after my father died when I was a teenager. Perhaps Finn would’ve forgotten about me. It would’ve been a risk.
But it’s equally possible that he wouldn’t. That he would still choose me. That he would lift me up. That we would not have wasted the past ten years. That we would be married with children by now. Our own home, our own family.
And I feel like such a fool for chasing this stupid dream of independence. Because it was selfish. It was… desire. Lust. For more power and status. For nicer quarters and better clothes.
For coin.
It is a heartbreakingly sober realization that the whole reason I am in this predicament right now is because of coin.
I never wanted to go into the tower, but I wanted everything that came with being a Maiden. All the fame, and riches, and comforts.
So it’s all my fault that I am here, on the precipice of death, lamenting the scope of all my bad decisions.
I’m crying about it, yes. Because there is sadness inside me.
But more so, there is shame. And anger. At myself, of course, but at Finn too. And Aldo. Why didn’t he stop me? If Aldo loved me like a daughter married to his only child, why did he not stop me? Why didn’t he take me aside and force me to believe that I am enough for Finn just the way I was?
Perhaps it was not his place? I guess I can understand that.
But then, wouldn’t it have been Finn’s place? As the man claiming to love me? Shouldn’t he have taken me aside and forced me to believe in his absolute, undying love? Forced me to believe that I was enough for him just the way I was?
This idea that I have been wronged lights a fury inside me. Because the truth of it all is staring me in the face.
I am going to die tonight.
My perfectly imagined future was nothing but a dream.
If this was a game of Divinity Cards, this is the moment I realize that I have lost. When I understand that I have placed my bet on the wrong spread and the game is over.
Finn, who has been hugging me while all these thoughts were running through my head, takes a step back, his hands on my shoulders.
It’s a confusing gesture in this moment because I can’t tell if he wants to get a better look at me—perhaps burn this image of me in his mind as a memory he cherishes, or possibly drives him mad sometime in the future—or if he’s actually pushing me away.
His eyes are soft and his mouth sad. So I know it’s the first and not the second.
He takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed. We have time. Let’s spend it together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.”
I allow him to pull me back across the room. I climb into my bed and scoot over to make room for him. Then he’s next to me, his arms tightly around me once more, and we both let out a breath.
“Shouldn’t we…” I look over my shoulder, trying to see his face. “I dunno, do something more than sleep our last hours together?”
I can’t really see him, but I feel the chuckle inside him because he’s got his bare chest pressed up against my back. “Should we make love again?”
I sigh. That was not what I was thinking.
“Kidding,” he says. But he wasn’t. “Should we… remind each other of the good times?”
I don’t answer him, but I do start searching my memory for such a thing.
“I’ll go first.”
I turn all the way around now. I want to look at that handsome face of his while he talks. I want to memorize his lips, and those eyes, and the curve of his jaw. “OK. Tell me then. Remind me of a good time.”