14 - FINN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he rest of the evening passes just as quickly as the afternoon did. After Mitch and I left the viewing room we went back downstairs to deal with last-minute preparations for the dinner, gala, and ceremony.

I wanted to see Clara. So badly. I wanted to skip out on this entire night and take her in my arms, and make love to her, and kiss her all night long and live this day like it's a dream.

And then, maybe, when we woke up, we could've run away. Just walked out into the desert, leaving this whole city behind. We could've started over in a place with no tower and no god. Or hell, just dug a hole in the sand until we found an ancient train tunnel and spent the rest of our lives underground like the scholars who study that stuff do.

It wouldn't matter to me. I wouldn't care where we lived just as long as we got away from here before anything else had a chance to happen.

But it's a pointless fantasy because it's five minutes to seven and Mitchell, Jeyk, and I are already on our way to dinner. In five hours, the incessant bells will stop ringing and Haryet will be gone.

But how much time will that buy us? A year, like the last time?

Or will it be a week?

Will it be a day?

Maybe those bells never stop ringing?

Maybe Haryet walks through the door and they just keep going?

Maybe Clara will be gone tonight too?

It should be an absurd fear, but it's not. Because it could actually happen.

And the worst thing is, I couldn't do a thing about it.

Or… could I?

I stop walking halfway across the canal bridge and look at Mitch. "What happens if I refuse to let Haryet walk through the doors?"

He and Jeyk both stop abruptly and turn back to me. Mitch squints his eyes. "What?"

"What happens if I don't send her through? Has anyone ever done it?"

Surprisingly, it's Jeyk who answers me, not Mitch. "I asked that question once."

"To who?" I ask him.

"My father. And he said that his grandfather told him that your grandfather once refused."

"Really? My father never mentioned it. And I never knew my grandfather. He died long before—" I pause for a moment, trying on the idea that I should stop here. That I should forget I ever asked this question. Just wallow in my own ignorance for a while.

But I can't. I've already heard too much. "The god killed him?"

Jeyk's expression turns uncomfortable and he shrugs. "He wasn't the only one. The entire Council dropped dead. That was the night that Aldo became the Extraction Master and he was the one who sent the Maiden in. But Father said the worst part was that all the Maidens-in-Waiting, and even the Little Sisters who didn't get Chosen had to go in too."

"What?" This comes from Mitch. "That's bullshit."

Jeyk just shrugs. "Whatever. That's what he said."

"How would that even happen?" I ask. "I mean, did the god appear, or something, and then demand all this extra spark?"

"No." Jeyk shakes his head. "He said they just did it. The door didn't close after the first Maiden walked through. And then, all of a sudden, the other Maidens started walking towards the door too. People tried to stop them and they couldn't. It was like they were in a trance. Like they were compelled. Then all of that year's Unchosen did the same thing. They lost a hundred girls that night, not just one."

I let out a long breath and look at Mitch. He wants to object. He wants to say it's bullshit. But it was him, just a few hours ago, telling me that the only way these Maidens walk through is by compulsion. So he can't. Even if what Jeyk just told us is completely false, Mitch can't say shit.

But Jeyk isn't done. He keeps talking. "A lot of things like that have happened over the years, Finn. My father told me a lot of things about Tau City. He's worked in every single district. He has friends in all of them because he's the guy they turned to when they needed help with mechanicals. And sometimes, they couldn't pay. So he'd ask them questions about the past. What they saw, what they heard. This place doesn't run as smoothly as they tell us. Things—like big things—go wrong all the time. It's just, they don't put that in the history books, ya know? They just… don't tell anyone."

I don't respond. I just turn back to the bridge and continue walking.

Jeyk and Mitch follow behind me.

When we arrive at the dining hall it's already packed with people. I can't sit with Clara—traditions—but she's sitting in a private elevated balcony, just like I am, and we are directly across from each other. Just like we were last night in the ballroom.

She seems to know I'm here, but I only get one small wave. Both Clara and Gemna are too busy consoling poor Haryet to pay attention to anything else.

Dinner is a long, boring affair and no one seems to be in the mood to party like they were last night. Of course, last night their Extraction Master wasn't dead—at least in their minds—and the eighth girl had not been called into the tower yet.

At nine o'clock, once the feast is over, the people sitting at the tables on the floor of the dining room begin migrating out and over to the God's Tower event center where the gala will be held.

The Maidens and myself will enter the gala last. I will dance with Haryet for at least thirty minutes while Tau City's elite class watch us, whispering and murmuring. Then I will hand her off to Mitchell and everyone will dance. Including me, including Clara. All the Maidens will dance with every man in the room and I will dance with every woman. Clara and I might get three minutes with each other.

But it's OK.

I keep telling myself that. Over and over again. It's OK. Because she's mine and I'm bringing her home with me tonight. She is spending the night with me tonight. I don't care what the Matrons say or how much they threaten her, or me, for that matter. I will have my night with Clara.

You never know, it could be my last. Who could predict the whims of a god we've never even seen, let alone understand?

Once it's my turn to leave the dining hall and make my way over to the gala, I go through the motions. I say all the right words to all the important people as I walk, and then, once I enter, wait for the applause to end while acting humble and unassuming. Then I meet up with Haryet on the dance floor so the gala can officially begin.

When I take her hand in mine, I realize it's shaking. But then, when I place my other hand on her hip, I realize her whole body is shaking.

I've watched my father console all the others who came before Haryet, so I know he talked to them. Probably in that deep, soothing voice of his. Something I didn't inherit. And even though the Maiden always looked on the verge of a panic while he danced with them, they held it together. I don't recall a single one of them crying.

What was that Maiden motto again? Poised, polite, pretty? Something like that. At any rate, that's what the Spark Maidens going into the tower always looked like to me. Textbook examples of… well… Spark Maidens. All brainwashed up, as Mitch might say.

Haryet is not holding it together. I am not my father and I have no words—none at all—that could possibly console her.

I am sending this woman to her death tonight. In less than three hours, she will be gone.

Forgotten, except as a name in a list in a history book. If any more of those are written, that is. Which seems precarious at the moment. Because the god is dying.

I haven't told Mitch what the Council said yet. They told me not to tell anyone, ever, but there's no chance of that—I tell Mitch everything. But so much has happened in the last few days that the dying god isn't even at the top of my list.

"Finn?"

I look down at Haryet. Despite her red and swollen eyes, she still looks beautiful. She's so petite that she tips her chin all the way up to meet my gaze. This changes the shape of her face as I look down and makes her softer. Younger. More vulnerable. Which is not the look I need right now. "Hmm?" I ask.

"If I live?—"

"Haryet—"

"No, just listen. If I live—I mean, if I'm alive on the other side—I've decided to send a signal back. I don't know how, but I will. I made a promise to myself when Lucy Fisher went in that, if this ever happened to me, I would figure out what is going on. I hadn't thought about that in a while, but… it's all I have left, ya know? And so now I'm going in and that's my goal. Live, number one, but also find answers. So that neither Clara nor any Maiden ever again will have to feel the way I feel right now. I will find a way to tell Clara."

It's a dumb thing, I think. But I don't say that, of course. I just nod. "If anyone can do it, Haryet, it will be you."

And maybe I do have a little bit of my father inside me after all. Because this seems to finally set her at ease. Her shoulders drop, she lets out a long breath, and she presses her lips together as she forces herself to be stoic despite the large tears still rolling down her sweet cheeks.

She steps in closer to me and my arms automatically tighten around her. Then her cheek is on my chest and my chin is resting on her head.

I don't know if she closes her eyes, but I do. Because I can feel it. I can feel something bad coming.

Things are not going to go smoothly during my tenure as Extraction Master.

My three minutes with Clara begin at precisely eleven twenty-seven.

She falls into me. Head on my shoulder, arms wrapped around my back, gripping me tight. While I cross my hands at the small of her back in a possessive way.

I didn't want to watch her dance with all those men, but how could I not?

I didn't want to be jealous of them, but how could I not?

And I'm in a bad mood now. Which sucks. Because these three minutes are supposed to be my reprieve for the night. This tiny window of time where I could just be with the woman I love before I have to send her best friend into the God's Tower as a sacrifice.

Instead, I feel hot with anger and filled with resentment. Over everything. All of it. And my place in it. The death of my father, my missing mother—who isn't here. And now that I think about it, that whole situation is so fucked up, I can't even process it yet. In the span of two days I've lost both my parents and all my hope. Because this whole place is hopeless. I will never marry Clara. We will never have our own home together, or any children.

After an entire decade of patiently waiting, we will never get the reward we earned.

And I'm mad about it.

But by the time all these thoughts have run through my head, my three minutes with Clara are long gone, I've already missed my scheduled one minute dancing with Gemna, the gala is over, the clocktower has already chimed the half-past mark, and it's time to head outside to the God's Tower stage.

Clara pulls back, tipping her chin up in a small act of bravery, and meets my gaze. "Are you OK?"

"Am I OK?" I point to myself. "Are you OK?" I realize I should've asked this the moment she came to me for my dance, and I didn't. I was lost in my own pathetic self-pity.

Clara wants to say she is OK, but she's not. And so all that comes out of her mouth is a sigh.

I offer her my hand. "Walk with me?"

She pouts, but agrees.

Everyone is leaving the ballroom now, so it takes a good several minutes before we are outside again, breathing in the frigid night air.

Usually I like the chill of night. It's a dependable comfort that comes every twelve hours or so after a long, hot, stifling day.

But tonight, it's too much and Clara is shaking badly, her teeth chattering as we make our way over to the stage we will share as we send her best friend off to the god of Tau City.

A stranger god.

An unknown god.

Something foreign and irrelevant.

I hate him, I realize. I hate this god, and this job, and this city.

And I hate these feelings too. Because just a few days ago I was in love with all of it.

As we take our places, I notice that Mitch is taking care of Haryet. She, like Clara, is shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattering so loud, I'm pretty sure even the people gathered at the far reaches of the tower stage can hear them.

I watch as Mitch holds her. Comforts her. Whispering things in her ear.

Clara snuggles up to me, unashamed at the public display of affection even though it's kind of forbidden for Spark Maidens.

Fuck it, though, right?

This whole thing is a charade, anyway.

We're sacrificing a woman to a god tonight and not a single person in this whole city will stand up and object.

Not even me.

There will be no discussion of Haryet tomorrow morning when people are lining up at the Magic Teacup or grabbing that morning pastry at the Laughing Loaf. They will forget about her immediately. For a year or two, at least. And then, when they are good and sure that the guilt of their silence that night has worn off, they will start praising her. They did that with Brooke Bayford, otherwise known as Maiden number seven. Just a few weeks ago I was walking across the canal bridge that leads to the Tower District and overheard a group of women discussing how beautiful Brooke looked on the night of her Extraction.

"Her hair was styled to look like a crown," a woman sighed as I walked past.

It irritated me at the time for reasons unknown. Reasons I didn't have time to think about. But I understand it now. It's guilt. For the silence that is happening right in this very moment.

What is that old saying? All it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to remain silent.

But here's the thing: if the good men are silent, were they ever good in the first place?

I used to think I was, but I've been forced to reevaluate my high opinion of myself over the course of the day.

Mitchell steps away from Haryet and then Clara is giving my hand a squeeze and letting it go so she can join Gemna and the both of them can stand next to Haryet. Clara starts playing her part without being told. I mean, technically, I'm the one in charge here, so I should be the one leading the ceremony. But she's done this little ritual of standing on the tower stage next to one of her friends so many times now, she doesn't even need direction.

Which is good, I guess, for the sake of a seamless performance. Because I'm not capable of giving it.

I glance up at the clock tower and am a little shocked to see that it is eleven forty-seven.

Thirteen minutes. That's all the life that poor Haryet has left. Just thirteen minutes.

Mitch has reached me now. He leans in a little. "You're up. If we're gonna do this, let's do it."

I turn my head to look at him. " If ?" Then I scoff. Because there is no question of ‘if.' Not after what we learned on the bridge. Just the possibility that what Jeyk said is true is enough.

One girl or a hundred?

That's our choice.

Mitch just shrugs up one shoulder. "It's just a fuckin' expression, Finn." He doesn't look at me and these words come out tense.

Which makes me frustrated. So I take a moment to stew and stare out at the crowd of not-good men who will stay silent.

When I don't start the ceremony, Mitch growls at me. "Do your part, Finn. Don't leave Haryet up there like that. She's fuckin' terrified."

I look over at Haryet and while she's not sobbing or making a scene, she is still very much a mess. Gemna and Clara are standing on either side of her, holding her hands, looking straight ahead across the stage—at me, but not at me—with practiced, stoic looks on their faces. Behind them is a group of Matrons and once I notice them, I also notice that they are really shooting me some dirty looks.

Even my mother .

Which stuns me for a moment.

And then I just feel… ashamed. Because everyone here is doing their part with as much grace as they can muster and I'm the one who isn't living up to the standards.

This realization is enough to jolt me out of the state of shock I've been in all day and I step forward, taking my place in the center of the stage.

I turn and face the people, sucking in a breath and letting it out as I look down the central canal of Tau City. It's lit up cyan-blue, like it's made of spark itself. It gives off a glow that leaks across the shores, lighting up the city, just a little bit on either side of the water.

A line so bright.

These words hit my head and immediately come out of my mouth. "A line so bright." I don't say it loud enough, and the bells are still ringing, of course, but the people of Tau City know the speech by heart by now. Just as I do. So I clear my throat and continue, making my voice big. "That is what we are. A line so bright in the dead sandy world that resides outside the safety of these walls. We are what's left of the human race after the Great Sweep and every day that we exist is a blessing bestowed upon us by the god who resides inside the tower behind me."

All eyes of the city look at the monstrous, black tower where our god supposedly resides.

Everyone but me, because I am talking to them and must face forward.

I glance up at the clock tower and realize it's now eleven-fifty-four.

Six minutes.

And I still have more to say. So I put aside all the misgivings I have about being the person in charge of this woman's death and proceed. Because what choice do I have?

"Once a decade we Choose ten of Tau City's brightest Spark Maidens to represent us in the tower. While only one goes in, all the others stand in waiting. Ready to do their duty when the god calls." I look at Haryet when I say this. Look her straight in the eyes. She sucks in a breath so big, there's no way to miss it. But if there was any doubt, she adds to her resolve by lifting up her chin.

She's not crying now. She is doing her duty.

"With the ringing of the bells, the god has called and Haryet Chettle, Maiden number eight, will answer his call tonight." I extend my hand in the direction of Haryet, Clara, and Gemna, then take a deep breath. "Join me now, Haryet. And I will walk you to the door."

Clara and Gemna give Haryet final bits of encouragement, and then drop their hands and take a step back. This step back—this separation of Haryet from the other Maidens—is what always jolts the Chosen one out of her stupor of shock and makes the moment real.

It separates Haryet from everyone else in Tau City now. Leaving her no choice but to see this stupid ritual through to the end.

Haryet joins me and I speak low now, my words only for the Maiden next to me. "Haryet, I'm so sorry. I'm just… so… sorry."

I don't know what my father told the Maidens as they stood up here next to him. That wasn't in the manual. It just said ‘words of encouragement.' An apology isn't encouragement, but it's all I've got. So that's all I say.

"It's OK, Finn." Haryet pauses to breathe and lift her chin up a little. "I told you. I'm going in, I'm gonna find out what's happening, and I'm going to send back a signal." She looks up at me now, meeting my gaze. "I will do everything right inside there. I will do everything he tells me. Clara will not be called. I promise. She won't."

A short burst of air comes out of my mouth and I nod. "I know. Because… if anyone can do it, Haryet, it will be you."

And I find that I mean this. Really, really mean this. Also, I realize that her words have comforted me . I believe her. "I believe you."

This is the right thing to say because Haryet actually smiles. All the way up to her eyes.

Suddenly the bell tower bells are tolling, because they are ringing up midnight. A short song of only four notes. They sound completely different than God's Tower bells. Softer tones. More harmonious.

Haryet lets go of my hand and I have an almost uncontrollable urge to grab it back. To take her, and turn, and run down the line so bright. Which doesn't even make sense because it's water and I do not walk on water.

And anyway, she's already stepping forward towards the big black doors. So it's over. It's just over and I stay right where I am, eyes fixed as the doors begin to open. Leaning forward, like everyone else in this city, desperate to see past the darkness.

But it's no use. Even from here—mere steps away—there is nothing to see but black.

Sometimes the Maidens will look over their shoulder one final time before they step through, but not Haryet Chettle. She is afraid, but not scared. And I find, though it is the worst time to realize this, that I respect Haryet's resolve and I wish I'd taken the time to know her better. Because she is someone worth knowing.

It is in this same moment of realization that the clocktower bell reaches twelve gongs and Haryet Chettle steps across the threshold of the God's Tower.

All Spark Maidens display when they walk through the doors and Haryet is no different.

She glows bright blue like she's made of spark itself.

I stand there, unable to process it. What happens here on this stage isn't natural. It's not right. But I've seen it so many times and it's such a part of my life that I can't imagine a world where a god in a tower at the top of your city doesn't steal women.

Then she's gone.

And the moment she disappears, the bells stop ringing.

If we, the people of Tau City, are a line so bright, then what comes after the bells stop ringing is a silence so loud.

"Finn?" Clara has been saying my name since we left, but I have not answered her. "Finn, talk to me. Please."

She's gripping my hand so tight I want to shake it off, but I find that I cannot let go. So instead, I just say nothing as the elevator doors open. We step in. Turn. Face the doors. And without comment, the liftman takes us up to the dome.

When the doors open we exit into the hallway, walk the short distance to the doors of the actual palace, and then I open them and wave her in.

This is the first time I've looked her in the eyes. I expect her to start back in, asking questions and trying to get answers out of me. But she must see something unfamiliar in my eyes when she looks back, because she doesn't even try. Just walks forward with a swish of her elaborate silk and linen gown.

And it's funny, I think. Well, not funny, actually. But… weird. Because I predicted this. The change in me. I knew I would be someone else after Haryet.

How could I not?

I step in after Clara, close the doors, and as she turns to look at me, I have an almost uncontrollable urge to be inside her.

She doesn't say anything. Just stares at me with bloodshot eyes, and downturned mouth, and… disappointment, I think.

I don't like to see her sad, of course. But the part about this look that stings is the disappointment. It feels like an accusation of failure.

I have so many things to say about this look she's giving me. I want to explain that it's out of my control, that I have no real power here, and anyway, isn't this what Haryet signed up for? Isn't this what they all signed up for? In exchange for pretty dresses, and luxurious quarters, and being invited to the best parties to rub shoulders with Tau City's most influential people, they promised to walk through those tower doors if the god called them in.

Not only that, they promised to do it as poised, proper, polite ladies.

I have to hand it to Haryet. In the end, she did her part. She tipped her chin up, squared her shoulders, and marched through those doors determined to… to save people. To save Clara .

And I know that Clara isn't privy to Haryet's last words—we haven't had a chance to discuss it yet—but that's what we would be discussing if she wasn't looking me in the eyes accusing me of failure.

I'm angry about this look she's giving me. It's not fair, I understand this, but I'm pissed. I don't want to be here. Unlike her, and all the other Spark Maidens, I didn't choose this path. I was born into it.

The sudden urge to yell at her—this woman that I love so dearly, and want so completely, and will never have a future with—the sudden urge to blame her for all of it is almost overwhelming. This impulse is so strong, I actually open my mouth to start the fight.

But in that same moment, Clara sighs. Tears spill out of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She bows her head, breaking eye contact, to hide these tears, but then they just slide off her face and fall to the floor.

Get a hold of yourself, Finn. She's sad, and scared, and lost. She doesn't need a lecture right now, even if she does blame you .

Which is exactly what Mitchell would say to me, if he were here. And it's truly the best advice, even if it is only coming from my own inner voice.

So instead of starting a fight, I walk over to Clara—this woman that I love so much—place my hands on her cheeks, tilt her head up, and kiss her.

I'm still angry, but not at her. I'm angry at the world, and myself, and all the stupid traditions I am now obligated to continue. And the only way I know how to let go of it is to take control wherever I can.

And the only thing I have control over right now is how we put this night to bed. And I want to do that with sex.

So this is a passionate kiss. A greedy, hungry, insatiable kiss. And while I'm kissing her, I'm pushing her backwards. She kisses me back with just as much longing, yearning to forget. Because that's all we're doing. That's all anyone's ever doing in this city. We're filling our lives with coffees, and pastries, and clothes, and galas, and the dreams of dreamers who think we're all free.

But, of course, we're not. We're living under the thumb of an insatiable god hungry for pretty women.

Stop thinking , that voice inside my head chastises. Purge your feelings of guilt, and shame, and apathy with sex, Finn. It's what Clara wants too .

And that voice in my head is right, I think. Because I can't recall a single conversation with Clara Birch about Imogen Gibson, or Marlowe Hughes, or Mabel P., or Lucy Fisher, or Mabel S., or Piper Adley, or Brooke Bayford.

So why would Haryet Chettle be any different?

Clara doesn't want to talk about Haryet, she wants to forget about Haryet .

Which just so happens to be a wish I am able to grant.

I'm still walking Clara backwards as I kiss her, but then the back of the couch is right there, pressing against her ass. I pull away, spin her around, place my hand right between her shoulder blades, and push her down, holding her in place for several seconds so she understands what I want her to do.

Which is stay still and follow my lead.

There is no way to get this gown off her in any kind of timely manner, and even if there was, the number of undergarments she's wearing pretty much make the attempt at getting her naked pointless. So I don't even bother trying.

Instead, I place my foot between her legs and kick one foot to the left, spreading that leg open a little wider. Clara gasps in surprise, but I don't stop, just do that same move again, spreading open her other leg until, as a pair, they are wider than her shoulders.

My hand is still firmly pressing down between her shoulder blades, so she is now breathing heavy and with effort. Her head has turned to the left, her eyes trying to see me over her shoulder, looking for guidance, but she's not able to fully meet my gaze.

I wait. There is silence in these waiting moments. Which is her way of giving me permission to continue.

So I lift my hand from her back, then lean down into her neck, biting her earlobe and making her squirm. My hand is lifting up the many layers of elaborate skirts, pushing them all up over her hips and exposing the gorgeous silk-lace lingerie covering her hips, and ass, and upper thighs. At the same time I whisper, "I love you," right into her ear.

She wants to say it back, almost gets part of a word out, but I shock her back into silence by grabbing the edge of that fine silk-lace underwear and ripping it open, giving me the access I need.

There's not going to be any talking. If she starts talking, I'll start talking, and I don't want to talk about anything right now. I just want sex.

A moment later I'm pushing a finger up inside her as I release my belt, open my pants, and pull out my cock, fisting it in my hand. Clara Birch is moaning loudly as this happens, arching her back and sending all the right signals, and I slide my finger along the streak of wetness between her legs.

I bend down a little, positioning myself at her entrance with one hand while I continue to stimulate her with the other, and then my finger slides out just as my cock slides in.

Clara's gasp of surprise, and possibly pain, is immediate. But I don't stop, or even consider going slower. I thrust into her hard , fisting her hair and pulling it with one hand while I slap her on the side of her thigh. She gasps, moaning a little, and then her arms stretch out along the back of the couch, bracing against my thrusting as I fuck her. We don't make love. Not this time. I do love her, but this is not lovemaking.

I am pissed. I am ashamed. I am… not me anymore.

I'm someone else now.

And I knew this was coming. I felt like it had already happened. So it's not even a surprise that I don't recognize myself in this moment.

Clara's not either, I guess. Because she's not complaining about the new me.

Of course she's not, because while the new me thrusts my hips, slapping them against her ass and jerking her forward, I stroke her from the front, massaging her sweet spot in just the right way.

She likes it, too. She likes the new me. I know this because she's not even trying to be quiet. She is not even trying to pretend she's not into this. She is moaning, and gasping, and squealing, and she comes, more than once, while I close my eyes and forget what I just did, and who I did it to, and just use this woman up like a man with no future.

Then, at the last possible moment, I slide out of her, pump myself a few times with my fist, and come all over her bare ass with my eyes still closed.

I don't know how long it takes for Clara to try to rise. A few minutes, maybe? But by the time she is ready to stand back up and reorganize her gown, I'm well and truly done. So I let her.

She's still breathing hard as she slips the remnants of her lacy lingerie down her legs, kicking it away from her with a lovely silk slipper, and stands to face me.

Then she sucks in a long breath and slowly lets it out as her eyes finally meet mine once more. "Well." She practically pants this word out. "That was… unexpected."

I grin, the darkness inside me satisfied. For now. I close the small space between us by taking a step forward. Then I place a hand on her cheek and kiss her again. This time, while it's still passionate, it's not angry. It's sweet. And so is my whispered response. "I love you too."

She lets out another breath, dipping her chin down—maybe a little embarrassed by what just happened. But then she squares her shoulders and looks back up, eyes sad again. Because this is a sad night and while the sex was a good distraction, it's just not enough. "You're going to save me, right?"

"What?" For a moment, I'm confused. And my eyebrows knit together. But then I realize she's talking about the god and the tower.

"Finn?" She grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to focus. Her tone has changed. She's not sweet or submissive now. My anger is gone, but hers is just getting started. "Please tell me that you will save me. Because it's very, very fucking clear that all ten of us are going into that tower."

"Clara—"

"What?" She knows the answer. So really, nothing more needs to be said. "You're not serious! I'm your future wife, Finn." Her eyes are wide and filled with fear, but also anger. "You. Will . Save me."

I don't mean to laugh. I really don't. It just comes out. And I'm not laughing at her, or what's happening. I'm laughing at the idea that I have any say in this.

"This is funny to you?"

"No. It's not funny at all, Clara. It's just…" I shrug. "If the god calls you in, you're going in."

"That's your answer?" She stares at me for a moment, narrowing her eyes down into slits. "You bring me up here, knowing full well I want you to save me, then you fuck me like a whore?—"

"Please," I scoff. "You weren't complaining. You got off three times by my count."

Clara Birch slaps me right across the face.

Hard .

Hard enough to make my head jerk to the side.

Hard enough to leave a splash of spark sticking to my hot face and a blue trail streaking through the air in the aftermath.

Then she turns on her heel and walks out, leaving her destroyed, silk-lace panties behind at my feet.