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 nod. Because I don’t care.
“And… how about no makeup?”
He’s never liked the makeup that I’ve been wearing since I was Chosen to be a Maiden. And this I do have an opinion about, because I never liked it either, so my voice is low and soft when I answer. “Yeah. No make-up sounds perfect.”
“Then all we have left is the dress.”
He leaves me in the chair, walks over to the thick, canvas garment bag, and unzips it. I get up and follow him over to the dressing area, taking my position in the center of the room where I usually stand for dressing.
He removes a silk bag first, looking at me with questions in his eyes.
“Lingerie.”
This makes him smile as he pulls the drawstring open and removes a pair of frilly underwear, some garters, and some silk stockings.
There’s no corset, which means it’s built in to the dress.
Finn takes that out next, holds it up and then hangs it on the dressing stand rack.
I narrow my eyes.
Finn comes up next to me, standing at my left shoulder. “What? What’s wrong with the dress?”
“It’s… got a blue skirt.”
“Oh. Right. They’re always some shade of white during an Extraction, aren’t they?”
“Always. Blue is for Little Sisters.” And now I’m annoyed.
Finn walks back over to the dress, picks up the skirt and looks at me. “It’s pretty though, right?”
“It’s an insult, is what it is. And it’s slutty. A peasant dress.” It is, in fact, a corset dress, the likes of which a man might find on a whore down in the Shipping District. So of course Finn likes it. Probably all men would like this dress. But to a woman of my status it’s offensive. “I’m not wearing it.”
“What do you mean you’re not wearing it? Of course you’re wearing it.”
I give him an indifferent shrug and turn my back to him. “No. I’m not. I have a closet filled with dresses that are a thousand times more appropriate than this one. I’ll choose something else.”
“You know what?” Once again, his tone is sharp and angry.
I turn, ready for another round of fighting. He has no right to be short with me on this day and I have every right to leave this world on my own terms. So I snap right back at him. “No. What?”
“You’re…” He pauses. Like he’s searching for the perfect word to describe what I am. “You’re… rude.”
I laugh. Nearly a guffaw. “What?” Then I point to myself. “I’m rude? Because I don’t want to present myself to that evil god in the tower tonight dressed like a slut?”
“Not only are you rude, but you’re insecure too.”
Another laugh bursts out of me.
“Whatever happened to ‘poised, proper and polite,’ Clara?”
Is he serious? “What happened? Is that a real question? You’re sacrificing me to save Gemna and the Little Sisters. You’re giving me away—the woman you love—like I am a piece of property, Finn.”
“Ya know, I was sympathetic of your plight earlier today. But now you’re just… unpleasant.”
The nerve of him.
“Not only are you unpoised, and improper, and impolite, but you’re… a coward, Clara. This is how cowards act. You were the one who wanted to be a Spark Maiden. You were the one who signed up for this. You were the one who spent the last ten years sucking on the teat of that god like you earned it. But you didn’t earn it. Tonight is the night when you earn it. So suck it up, and at the very least, act half as dignified as all your friends who went before you. If not for me or the city, then for the Little Sisters looking up to you. For Gemna, who will be losing her shit tonight, scared out of her mind. And maybe this is what you want? Maybe you’re just trying to make sure that you leave us more miserable at the end of the day than when we started it. And you know what? That is the definition of ‘coward.’ So yeah, you’re acting like a fucking coward.”
I’m so pissed. Seething mad. Hot with anger. And I’m just about to banish him from my rooms when he walks over to the door, unlocks it, and pulls it open.
He doesn’t even look at me when he spits his next words out. I get a side-eye from over his shoulder, and that’s it. “I’ll see you at seven at the feast.”
Then he slams the door closed, making several picture frames slide down the wall nearest the door and crash to the floor.
I’m too stunned to move. Too angry to scream. Too humiliated to cry.
So I just stand there. For however many minutes it takes for Gemna to cautiously open my door and peek inside.
“Clara?”
I suck in a deep breath. Amazed that my face is not wet with tears.