19 - CLARA

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I 'm crying, and sad , and depressed, and hopeless—I know I feel all these things. But there's a blankness inside me as well. An emptiness. A void begging me to push reality away and concentrate on the dream holding me in his arms instead.

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."

"We were… I dunno. Eight, I think."

I smile because eight was a good year. My mother was not only still alive, but not even sick.

"And we went down-city, remember?"

I smile bigger. Because while I haven't thought about that day in almost twenty years and we used to sneak down-city a couple times a week on a regular basis, I know exactly which one he is referring to. "I remember. We were looking for kittens."

His smile grows wide, lighting up his whole face. "Because you wanted a kitten for your birthday and that was not a present you got."

"So you were going to get it for me."

"Lord Relic."

I almost snort when I picture the grizzled, old, mangy cat we took back up-city that evening. There were no kittens anywhere, which was probably the whole reason I didn't get one in the first place. But there was Lord Relic, the mouser from the Shipping District who had been around for two decades, if the rumors were true.

"It took us all day to convince his mangy ass we were friendly."

"And then we stuffed him into that flimsy cage and tried to take him home."

Finn is laughing now. "But he was so pissed off, he clawed his way through the canes and escaped."

I'm laughing too. "We were so sure that he would rather stay with us on the boat, we didn't even mind."

"Until he jumped into the canal, threw us a big ‘ol ‘fuck you' look over his shoulder, and then never looked back."

Finn and I both chuckle. It's a good memory. I was so shocked. It never even crossed my mind that the mangy mouser from Shipping liked his life and would not prefer to come live up-city with me where he would be dressed up for tea parties and pampered like a prince.

"It just goes to show you," I say, "that happiness is relative."

He sighs, but stays silent. Maybe thinking about tomorrow and how I won't be here.

I'm still angry—mostly at myself and not him—but I don't want him to remember me angry. I want him to think about our adventures as children, and our first kiss, and this day too—because I do have to admit, the sex was good.

I guess, if I have to die tonight at the hands of an angry god inside a tower, my last day could be worse.

So I come up with my own good memory for him to hold on to. "My good time was when we were fourteen. I was just starting to get over the death of my mother and I asked you to be my date for the Pledge Gala in my second year."

His face goes sad, which throws me for a moment. Because it was such a great night for me. So great that it never even occurred to me that he didn't have a good time.

"Sorry—did you not have fun?"

His eyes go wide with surprise. "What?"

"It's just… your immediate response came across as… sad."

He exhales, but looks me in the eyes. "I had forgotten about that night. But no, it wasn't sad. It was… heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… it was the perfect night. It was our first real kiss. It was the first time we went up to the wall after hours."

"That was the part I liked. The first kiss was amazing, of course. Because it was with you and it was everything. But that midnight walk on the wall, under the stars and looking out at the sand was everything. Especially the way you held my hand." I shrug. "I felt like a princess that night in my gala dress. And you were all dressed up too. Like my prince. And it was gonna last forever, Finn. That's how I felt that night. Why did it break your heart?"

He hesitates for a moment.

"What? Tell me."

I can tell he doesn't want to, but after a breath for courage, he does. "That night, after I took you home, after that first kiss outside your door, I left and I was a hundred percent certain that I was gonna lose you."

"Why?"

"Because you were so perfect, and so beautiful, and… there was no way that the god would pass you up over someone second best. I was sure you'd be Chosen, and I was absolutely sure you'd be number one. So I went home, crying. And my father, he kept asking me what was wrong."

"And you told him."

Finn nods. "I told him."

"And I was Chosen. But I wasn't number one, because your father would never break your heart like that. I was number nine, so it wasn't so obvious. And now look at me. It's my turn to walk into that tower. It's like… that stupid god knew we cheated him. And this is his revenge."

Finn doesn't say anything. He knows I'm right. He knows this is true.

Maybe I'm just making things up to justify my bad luck, or whatever. Maybe I'm making myself more important than I should. Maybe this is my ego, trying to explain things in a way that puts me in the center. Trying to force it all to make sense and have purpose.

But I don't think so.

I think his gut feeling was true. That I was meant to be number one from the very beginning and the whole reason all the girls were called into that tower was because Aldo cheated and made me nine. And that god took it personal.

So this is nothing more than my destiny, finally being fulfilled.

"What will you do, Finn? What will you do with the rest of your life once I'm gone?"

His response is immediate. "What will I do ? I will get revenge , Clara. I will fuck that god over six ways to Sunday and I will make him pay for taking you away from me."

This is the end of the conversation. Even if he didn't tug me up close to his chest and let me bury my face in his neck, it would still be the end.

Because there's really nothing more to say.

It's over.

It's well and truly over.

We sleep for a little while . Doze, really. I have a million things running through my mind, so sleeping isn't even possible. And even the dozing comes with weird half-dreams filled with nonsensical images feeding off my fear and sadness.

But eventually, the peace we've created for ourselves here in my rooms comes to an abrupt end when someone pounds on my door.

Finn gets out of bed, carefully, like he thinks I'm asleep and doesn't want to wake me, and I open one eye and watch him pull his pants back on. He answers the door, barely opening it a crack.

There is a whispered conversation that I can't really follow, then he reaches out with one arm and a garment bag is draped over it.

It's my dress for tonight.

I expect him to let the attendants in—I am always dressed by attendants. But instead, he closes the door and turns back to me. "I told them I would help you get ready."

At any other time, these words might make me blush. Would certainly make my heart beat faster with the thought of Finn helping me into a gown. Standing behind me, pulling my corset tight. Adjusting me. Making me perfect.

But right now, it just makes me sad. It makes me think of all the years we had, and now we don't. How there will be no children. No home of our own. No plans, nothing.

This is it.

He will dress me. We will go to the ceremony. We will feast, and dance, and walk to the tower—probably holding hands.

And then the clocktower will strike midnight and I will walk through those doors, never to see him again.

"How?" I ask, my voice low and husky.

He drapes the zippered-cotton garment bag over the back of an overstuffed chair and turns to me with a face of confusion. "What?"

I struggle, looking for the right words. "I… just… don't understand. Help me understand. How? How could you ever send me in there?"

His frustration comes out as an arrogant huff. "That's not fair."

"I'm sorry ? What's not fair? The fact that you get to live another day and I don't? Or is the prospect of guilt what's tripping you up?"

"I thought we went over this, Clara. I can't not send you into that tower. You'll go whether I send you or not. It's not me! It's not up to me! And if I resist?—"

"I get it." I sneer these words out. "I do. I get it. I'm just one woman. Nobody in the grand scheme of things. But…" I huff now too. "How, Finn? How will you live with yourself? Because if the roles were reversed, I could not. And I would not spend your last day pretending everything is fine. I would not"—I nod my head to the dress—"pretend like this offer to dress me is anything other than ritualistic preparation. I would not lie to myself. But you…" I shrug up one shoulder and shake my head. "You are not only lying to yourself, you're doing it so casually and with such indifference it's blowing my mind. It's making me question everything about you. About us . Because the man I thought I knew, the one I grew up with, my best friend for as long as I can remember—he would at least try and fight for me."

"Even if he knew he would lose? Even if he knew this display of pointless valor would kill people? Is that the man you want? The one who weighs the soul of one against the souls of a hundred, yet still chooses the one? Is that romantic , Clara?" These words come out as seething rage.

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.

I walk to the door and open it up. Finn takes a step back, like he wasn't expecting me to give in so easily. But then he smiles and places his hands on my shoulders. "I know this is hard. But I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

I do. But I can't bring myself to say it. So I don't. I just shrug off his hands and walk over to the dressing area, dropping my towel to the floor. "What about my hair and makeup?"

His eyes are far too busy taking in my body to answer, but when they finally meet mine, they are not thinking about hair and makeup. They are hungry with lust.

I consider the idea that we have sex one more time before the end.

Then toss it aside.

He just… doesn't deserve me. That's my conclusion right now. He simply doesn't deserve me. So it's not gonna happen.

"Finn. Focus." I snap my fingers at him. "I need hair and makeup before I can get dressed."

"Do you want me to call someone in?"

I sigh. He's not good at this. Has he always been this myopic? "You could. But… you could also do it for me."

His eyebrows go up. Then he smiles. "You want me to brush and style your hair? And put makeup on you?"

I mean, what better way to send the love of your life off to be the god's sacrifice? But I don't say that. Poised, proper, and polite, Clara. This is who you are.

Finn crosses the room, grabs a robe off a hanger, and helps me into it. Then he points to the hair and makeup chair. "Sit. I'll give it my best try."

I sit, and he putters around for a few moments, then lines up a selection of brushes on a tray. He combs my hair out, talking to me as he works.

"We have three kids."

My eyes shoot up, finding his in the massive mirror propped up against the wall I'm facing. "What?"

"We have three kids. Aldo is still alive, so I'm not the Extraction Master. I told him I didn't want the job. Would never take the job."

A small, startled breath escapes from me. And despite all the horrible things I was just thinking about him, I smile. "What do you do then? Just sit around all day?"

The comb slides through my long, wet hair easily—sending a tingling sensation across my scalp, which turns into chills that make my whole body prickle up, and I shudder.

"I am…" He pauses to think, smiling at me in the mirror. "I'm a scholar."

I laugh. "A scholar?"

"It is funny?"

"Surprising. I never suspected you were an academic. What do you study?"

"The ancient ruins of the desert. The tunnels below the city. I collect artifacts. And we don't even live in a tower."

My mouth drops open. "We've gone rustic? Don't tell me we're living down-city?"

"No. We live under the city in the diggers' camp. And our children run around barefoot and muddy. But they laugh a lot, Clara. And that's the only thing that matters. We laugh a lot too. We don't have any spark, except for the water pumps, and sometimes we crave the sunlight, but we're happy. And there are cave rooms down there with holes in the ceiling where the sun shines through, where plants and trees grow, and the kids can run in the grass. And at night, when they're all sleeping, sometimes we steal away to one of these open-topped caves and make love under the moonlight."

My eyes are swelling up with tears. Because even though this was never my dream, nor his, I suspect, it's such a nice life—such a satisfying future—that I am immediately sorry it will never happen. That we didn't think of this sooner. That we didn't know better than to play a game with a god.

Because there are no winners now.

We both lose.

Finn stares at me for a long moment in the mirror. Internalizing my sadness, I think. Because he starts to apologize. "Clara?—"

I interrupt him with a wave of my hand through the air. "Never mind. It's a nice dream, but that's all it is. A dream. Let's stay focused on reality now."

He nods and continues combing my hair until it is smooth and straight, mostly dry. "What do you want me to do with it now?"

I've never had to do my own hair for a gala or an Extraction, so I'm lost for a minute. But then I shrug. "Who cares? Put it up in a pony tail, I guess."

"I think the Matrons would lose their shit if you walked out of this room with a pony tail, Clara."

"Let them."

"How about we just keep it down? Maybe… gather it up like this to keep it off your face?" He pulls up the long strands that hang down the sides of my face and pulls them back behind my head, fastening them there with a gold clip. "Good?"

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.

"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.

No. It's not what any of us signed up for.

And even though Finn was… perhaps correct in his conclusion that I was doing my best to make this night as miserable for everyone else as it was for me—I do not wish this moment on any of those young girls. Not even the haughty Jasina Bell.

So I raise a timid hand back. Which makes her smile. Then she mouths, The dress … but I miss the rest, because a hand touches my shoulder and my attention is immediately pulled to the man attached to it. Finn.

"Should we head over to the ballroom?"

"It's part of the ritual, so—" But I stop here, mid-sentence. Because I'm doing it again. Taking my misfortune out on everyone around me.

And that's not how I will go out tonight. I will not be a shining example of cowardice for Gemna or the Little Sisters who will be watching me for any sign of weakness.

I will be poised, and proper, and polite.

My chair slides back, I stand up, and then I look Finn in the eyes as I take his offered hand. "It would be my pleasure."

I hate him. I will never get over this betrayal. I will carry my resentment of Finn Scott into the tower with me and hold on to it as I take my last dying breath.

But I will clutch at this bitterness with grace.

Typically, the Extraction Master is the last to leave the feast so that all the people are waiting for him in the ballroom when he enters. But nothing about this night is typical.

Everyone stays seated as we make our way into the next room and then there is a furious sound of scraping chairs and the swishing of gowns as the rest of the guests follow us.

Finn leads me right into the center of the ballroom, then—while everyone else is still filing in—he raises a hand, signaling for the music to start.

We dance as the room around us gets more and more chaotic, both of us stiff at first, not looking each other in the eyes. But then, once the room is settled—just as my fate is settled—I put my head on his shoulder and he holds me tight. Our feet shuffling, barely leaving the small circle we make in the center of the room.

We dance like this for many songs, and many minutes, until finally everyone decides that we will stay dancing like this until we are forced to leave and make our way over to the tower stage, and so they join us.

Bodies crowd around us and the sounds of swishing dresses and soft conversation fill the enormous room. It's all very cautious and hushed, at first. But things get more relaxed and soon it's a party.

Still, Finn and I cling to each other.

I can't decide if I should stay mad or make up with him.

The only thing I can settle on is the fact that it doesn't matter.

I will go into the tower and my life will be over.

He will stay out here and his will start again.

He will live again.

I don't want to hate him. I don't. I want to love him. I want to be a brave woman in the most challenging moment of my life. I want to be a shining example of what it means to be a Maiden. And I want to go into that tower with as much grace as the women who came before me.

But I can't help the hate, and I don't feel the love, and yes, I do want to be brave, but I do not want to be a shining example of a sacrifice to anyone, let alone those Little Sisters who are all watching me right now. And while I do agree that it would be nice to live up to the standards of courage and grace set by the Spark Maidens who went before me, none of them were sent into this tower by a man who claimed to love her.

It's completely different. Because he is betraying me. I am in distress, I am in danger, and he refuses to step in and stop it.

He didn't even try .

All this time I imagined Finn Scott was an honorable, intelligent, capable man. And I believed him when he said he loved me.

How could he love me when he didn't come up with a single plan?

He did promise revenge. And it sounded so genuine at the time. It touched me, it did.

But there was no brainstorming with his friends to concoct a harebrained save-the-girl scheme. Even if it would've never worked, a token gesture along that line would've been a tiny bit comforting. I would, at the very least, feel… valued? I guess?

I don't like feeling this way. I had never thought of myself as small, and petty, and selfish.

But I think I am.

I must be.

Because this is the truth.

This is how I feel.

And I will never forgive Finn Scott for what he is about to do.

The next thing I know it's eleven-thirty, the dance is over, and it's time to go outside and walk over to the tower stage. We hit the chilled air and suddenly the bells are there, ringing, and ringing, and ringing—like they have been all day. But somehow, I had put them out of my mind. Pushed them into the background. Probably because they've been tolling almost constantly for two days and now it's just… background noise.

But the clanging is suddenly too much. And I think it is the sound of these bells that is making me shake. The low, booming peal of the god's call echoes through the air like a disturbance.

My mind is whirring and I feel… less than . If that makes any sense. Less than Haryet. Less than Brooke, and Piper, and Lucy, and both of the Mabels, and Marlowe. And especially less than Imogen, who was the first of us.

I'm an embarrassment, that's what I am. And my whole life suddenly feels pointless and shallow. Like I walked through it as a shadow of what I could've been.

If only I'd tried harder or… something .

Then Gemna is beside me, taking my hand. And Finn is letting go, hugging me. Kissing me. Meaningless words spilling out of his mouth and into mine.

"I love you." He just keeps saying this as we kiss. "I love you, Clara. I will love you forever."

But it's a lie. It's nothing but a fucking lie. Already Haryet is a distant memory to the people of Tau City. Hell, they probably haven't thought about Imogen in years. Probably don't even remember the name of the Maiden who was sent in twenty years ago.

I know I don't.

Then Finn is all the way across the stage, looking up at the tower. So I look up too and find that we are one minute to midnight.

One minute. That's all I have left.

The moment this thought ends, the god's bells stop and the clocktower bell starts chiming the final countdown.

I watch as the massive black doors begin to open and before I can even make a decision, my feet are walking forward, not under my control.

I'm being drawn in! Like there is a powerful magnet in there and I am nothing but iron.

Which is just funny. Because iron is strong, but I am weak.

And just as I think that, extreme heat fills my fingertips, floods my hands, flows up my arms and over my shoulders, and suddenly my entire body is aglow with cyan-blue spark.

I look over my shoulder, panic building inside me like an inferno. "Finn!" I call, desperate to beg one more time to be saved. "Finn!"

He looks at me, his face unreadable, and for a moment, I think he changes his mind. I think… I think he's leaning forward. Yes! He's coming! He's going to save me!

But just as I think these thoughts, he leans back and that rescue I was anticipating disappears.

"Finn!"

"I can't, Clara! I can't !" He yells this over the tolling of the bells. But then, in the moments after, there is silence. It is midnight and I am at the threshold.

There's no way for me to not cross it. I'm not in control anymore. It's like… the god is compelling me to keep walking. This is what sends me over the edge. This is what makes me throw out any thoughts of entering this tower with grace. This is what sends me into a fury.

None of this is in my control. And I know for certain that it's not in Finn's control, either. He can't come rescue me any more than I can rescue myself.

Still, all I have left is fear and rage, so that's what I cling to. "Whatever happened to ‘You're my future. And the god can't take you away from me. Not ever?' Whatever happened to that?"

When I look over my shoulder Finn is panicking. But he's not going to do anything and I only have one breath left so I scream, "I will never forgive you! Ever . I will hate you 'till the end of time!"

Then I am across the threshold, entering the blackness, and the God's Tower doors slam shut behind me.