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)
“Can I come in?”
I look over at her and nod, but I am unable to speak so I don’t even try.
“What’s going on? Is there some way I can help?”
Now I do cry. Because Finn is right. I’m scaring her. There’s still a chance that I might be the last Maiden. That she might escape my fate, and the fates of all the Maidens that came before me.
I’m a terrible friend. Haryet was upset, but in the end, she was the definition of poised, and proper, and polite. She attended dinner, she danced, and she walked into that tower without a fuss.
Just like every other Maiden who came before her.
And I’m going to be the one who throws a fit. I’m going to be the one who gets hysterical. I’m going to be the one who is selfish and thinks only of herself.
Not only that, I will do all these things looking like a whore.
It’s this realization that snaps me out of the pity party I’m currently hosting. What a sight I will be up there on the tower stage, looking like a tramp and acting like a low-class nobody.
Well, some of that is a choice, isn’t it?
Maybe I do have to wear the dress they’ve chosen for me. Fine. I will surrender my body tonight. It does, after all, belong to the god for three more months.
But what I will not do is surrender my dignity.
I pull myself together and turn to Gemna. “Can you help me get dressed?”
Gemna immediately smiles and comes over to me with arms out.
We hug for a long time and I find myself wishing I had spent the day with her instead of Finn.
In the dining room Gemna and I are now the only ones left at the Maiden table. Everyone has noticed my dress, so I’m hot with humiliation. Gemna held her shock in pretty well when I presented it to her back in my rooms, but I could see that she too was appalled.
It’s not that it’s ugly or anything. It’s not ugly at all, actually. It’s not made of cheap fabrics—the cotton is very soft, the silk is divine, and the lace is handmade. It’s not even poorly put together. The stitching is some of the finest I’ve ever seen. The skirts flow in just the right way.
In fact, I look amazing. Especially after Gemna threw my hair up into a messy updo that pulled the look together perfectly and dabbed some makeup onto my blotchy and pale cheeks to try and force my skin to glow.
The whole thing just works and I’m turning the heads of every man in the room.
It’s just completely inappropriate because they are looking at me with lust and this is supposed to be a somber evening.
But Gemna did point out that I made a fuss to the Matrons when Haryet was supposed to be getting dressed for her Extraction. I had forgotten about that, but now all those nasty things I said come rushing back to me.
Every one of you needs to get the fuck out. Who gives a fuck what her dress looks like!
That’s what I told them, so… yeah. They got back at my insubordination by dressing me like a harlot.
Matrons, one. Clara, zero.
I always knew they were bitches, but this is… catty. And it demeans them in my eyes. Not that it matters, I guess. It’s just more proof that this city is filled with charlatans and I spent my whole life living under the spell of liars.
I blow out a breath, doing my best to keep it soft, and then scan the room. I’ve avoided meeting Finn’s gaze since I arrived. He was already here, but Gemna stepped into protective best-friend mode and steered me clear of him. There are only the two of us left, so we stayed close to each other before the feast was served.
The entire room of upper-city elites seem to have grown immune to the idea that the god in the tower has developed an insatiable appetite. At first, they were quiet and reserved. But as the drinks were served everyone seemed to loosen up.
Everyone but Gemna and me.
This is when I remember that the Little Sisters are up in the balcony, required to be at the feast because of tradition. Their second Extraction event before they’ve even been whittled down to the top fifty. Which is yet another thing that has never happened before.
I look up and the first face I see is Jasina Bell’s. She must’ve been staring at me because our eyes are instantly locked.
Her hand comes up in a small, timid wave and she sighs. None of the Little Sisters seem to be having fun. In fact, most, if not all, of them look to be on the verge of panic.
Is this what we signed up for? That’s what they’re asking themselves.