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)
Which is appropriate, I suppose. Given that I practically called him a spineless coward. But it’s out of character. The sex was… interesting. And, not gonna lie, especially to myself, it was good. Very good. But that was out of character too.
Not out of character that it was good. I’ve always enjoyed sex with Finn. And it’s not even that he did dirty things to me. Or asked for dirty things in return. I’ve always had a suspicion that Finn was holding back when we were intimate. That he had desires he never told me about.
How could he not? We parted when we were eighteen. We led completely different lives and when we did meet up, we didn’t usually have time to explore each other. All our private encounters were trysts scheduled in between appointments and the needs being met during those trysts were more emotional than physical.
We were trying to convince ourselves that we still had a relationship.
We were propping up the idea that we could spend all our new-adult years being two totally different people, on two totally different life tracks, and not have it spoil the dream.
Because I see now that’s all it was. That’s all Finn ever was.
Just a dream.
But it’s just interesting that all of his out-of-character behavior pops up after Aldo died and Finn became Extraction Master. It’s maybe not fair to assume that the new title is already contaminating him, but everyone knows power corrupts.
Of course, I might be reading too much into this. It could just be sadness. He’s mourning Aldo and soon me. But it’s still out of character.
Since I don’t answer his last question, Finn decides that he has won the argument and turns back to the garment bag containing my dress. I am in bed, naked, but I throw the covers off me, walk into the massive, luxurious bathroom, and then close and lock the door.
I turn on the hot water, letting steam swirl up around the ceiling, and I stare at myself in the fogging mirror.
I am pretty, but not any prettier than the other Maidens. Perhaps the Maidens, as a whole, are prettier than most women in the city. But… it’s basically a beauty contest, so it makes sense that we’re all little copies of each other. Slightly different faces, slightly different hairstyles, slightly different heights.
But all the same.
Little copies, doing our duty.
Always poised, always proper, always polite.
In other words: Don’t take up too much space in the room. Don’t call attention to yourself. Don’t stand out, blend in.
Finn is like this as well, but in a different way. He is obedient, and passive, and deferential. He is traditions, and habits, and routines.
Which isn’t the man I remember in my head.
He was always dutiful, but he was daring too. Always honorable and honest, but unconventional as well.
In the time we’ve been apart, he’s changed. And it’s confusing. I guess that’s my point. Because of course he’s changed. I’ve changed too.
It just breaks my heart that today, of all days, is the one where I realize I don’t know him anymore.
I’m crushed. And I feel hopeless, and helpless, and defeated.
I get in the shower, wash, and get right back out, wrapping myself up in a luxurious cotton towel as I swipe my hand through the fog that has collected on the mirror and stare at my pretty, but ordinary, face.
I’m frowning. And this brings forth a collection of shallow lines around my eyes and mouth that I don’t remember being there the last time I looked in the mirror.
Which just makes me sadder. That I gave up my youth to a god in a tower who now wants to take the rest of me too.
A knock on the bathroom door makes me jump. “Clara.” Finn’s voice comes across as steady, and even, and detached. “It’s past six. I need you to come out so I can help you get dressed.”
It’s past six, Clara. Why are you taking so long? The god is hungry and you need to make yourself pretty for him.
I sigh. Because as much as I want to hate Finn for his… professionalism, I hate myself more for not being able to live up to the Maiden motto.
Every Maiden who has gone in to that tower has done it with her chin up. Brave, and steady, and with a sense of purpose.
Do I really want to be the Maiden who goes in frantic, and wild, and delirious?
Haryet was terrified, yet she showed up, she ate dinner, she danced, and then, when the time came, she walked proudly through those black doors.
She was nothing but brave.
“Clara!” Finn’s voice is louder now and there’s a little bit of emotion in it. But it’s not desperation or regret. It’s anger, I think.
I turn from the mirror and the idea that I have been wronged, even though I’ve been living like a princess these past ten years, fills me with a new kind of anger. Something I don’t recall feeling before. It’s packed with seething, turbulent resentment.