30 - JASINA

CHAPTER THIRTY

A fter Finn Scott's abrupt dismissal , I turn towards the exit where Donal Oslin is waiting to escort me back to the dorm. There are Matrons posted along the passageways to keep an eye on us, but Donal is one of those creepy, ass-kissing boys who understands how to avoid the gaze of chaperones while simultaneously making them think he's trustworthy.

So I'm on edge.

It occurs to me now, after that weird confrontation from Auntie, that he may have been partnered up with me on purpose.

I nearly scoff as I approach him. Of course he was, Jasina. The Matrons are in charge—they make all the decisions about the Little Sisters and these decisions, at least for this particular Extraction Choosing, are considered carefully. They're not made lightly.

It's obvious now, but up until a few minutes ago it never even entered my mind that the people I had trusted the most might not trust me back.

Huh. Ironic. Especially since I just spilled some pretty big secrets to Finn Scott. So I suppose their suspicions had cause.

Donal offers me his arm and I dutifully hook my hand around it the way I'm supposed to with an escort. We start walking, turning corners and traveling along one of the many, many, many twisted passageways inside the Maiden Tower.

He remains quiet, nodding his head at every Matron standing guard at each hallway intersection. The thing about Donal that tends to win people over, aside from his brown-nosing, of course, is his good looks. He's tall, and broad, and handsome. Not only that, he knows how to be charming. I mean, he's never been charming with me , but he's been trained up as the legacy for the Tower District, so proper etiquette has been ingrained into him since birth. His manners are impeccable, there's no denying it. But he's so ugly on the inside.

"What do you say, Jasina? Should we steal away for a little quickie before I take you back to the dorm?"

And right there is the perfect example of this ugliness. We are not familiar in this way. He has no right to say this to me. I look up at him, disgusted. "Keep dreaming. The Matrons are watching, you idiot."

"They are. Until they're not."

And this is when I realize that they aren't actually watching. In fact, there are no Matrons at all along this passageway.

The next thing I know he's pushing me into a dark nook. I make to scream, but his hand is firmly across my mouth. It's so big, and he's pressing so hard, a panic floods through me. Not because of his reference to a ‘quickie' and what his immediate plans might be—though I'm pretty sure he is intending on having his way with me—but because I can't draw in a breath.

I've been paired up with this jerk for nearly five years now and a girl doesn't have to be a genius to see this moment coming. I'm ready because I've practiced for it, so on instincts alone my knee comes up and gets him in the balls so hard, he immediately doubles over, coughing and sputtering.

By the time I'm back in the main corridor, he's retching his guts out behind me.

I turn the corner, find a Matron—who is very surprised that I am alone—and before she can ask the obvious question, I provide an answer. "He's getting sick in that nook back there. You might want to take him to the health center."

There's a commotion of Matrons after that. All the ones along this corridor go rushing past me to render aid while I just continue my walk back to the dorm in peace.

What a dick. Of course it pisses me off that he pulled this stunt, but I'm angrier about being paired up with him in the first place. If every girl knows that Donal Oslin is this way, how is it possible that every Matron doesn't?

They do. They just don't care.

And that's the nicest conclusion to come to. Because it could be that they know and they do care. In other words, they've placed Donal with me on purpose, knowing full well that this would happen.

It's this belief that I grab onto for two reasons. The first is to ease my guilt about what I just told Finn Scott. I am not a traitor. I am loyal. I, as much as anyone, want this evil god in the tower gone. I want this barbaric ritual of Extraction to be over. Spilling all those secrets wasn't in the plan. I didn't actually have a plan—not after last night, at least. But Finn revealed a part of himself to me by mistake. He doesn't want this either. Why should we be enemies when we can be allies?

Of course, that's not the only reason. The way he touched me held a lot of sway in the end. And I get it. He's missing Clara. He wants Clara. I was nothing but a convenient substitute. But when he came out of the building this morning and walked across the bridge, I saw him in a new light. Vulnerable, regretful, and not the monster I had made him out to be in my head all these years.

He loved Clara. He doesn't want to do this. He said that. And I believe him.

So he's not on their side. He's not even aware there are sides, from the way he tells it. So why should he be our enemy? Why couldn't he help us?

Then there's that. The term ‘us.'

Because when Auntie came up to the table during our talk, I suddenly stopped feeling like part of her ‘us.' Why was she so confrontational? I wasn't doing anything weird. Does she suspect that he and I…? No. Surely not. Why would she jump to that conclusion?

Unless… she was somehow watching.

No. It's not possible. If Auntie was able to spy on Finn in his quarters, why would she need me?

I turn the corner of the last hallway and come face to face with her and Matron Connelly. "Auntie!" I nearly skid to a stop, that's how surprised I am to find her right in front of me. "What are you doing here?"

Better question is… how did she get here? Wasn't she just behind me, back in the dining hall? I'm sure I saw her there before I left. Didn't I? Maybe I just thought I saw her.

"Come with us, Jasina."

"OK." I start walking, but suddenly they have both grabbed me by the upper arms and they are practically dragging me down the hallway. "What's going on? Why are you acting so weird?"

"Shut up, niece. We will talk in private."

I am dragged like this down many passageways and then, once we enter the same interior glass bridge I was in the other night, I realize we're going back to the Matron Tower. A tower where no one is permitted except Matrons. Which didn't bother me much last time, but last time I was being treated like the Chosen One and right now I'm being treated like a prisoner.

We end up at the same place—the door to the control room. And this is when I realize things are really wrong, because Auntie dismisses Matron Connelly with a wave of her hand. There is no discussion.

The door to the room where the tele-visions live opens and I am shoved through by Auntie's firm hand. I stumble forward, and turn, just as she slams the door closed behind her. "What were you doing up there, you little witch?"

My mouth drops open. "What?"

Auntie stares straight at me, and my instincts are good enough that I see the threat, so I shrink back. But it's not enough. The slap across my face is quick, and hard, and angry.

I'm so stunned I can't even move. My cheek stings like I was punched, not slapped, that's how hard the blow was.

"Answer me! Right now! What were you talking about at the Extraction Master's table?"

"He asked me about my family! He asked me about you! Because of our names!"

The hand is coming at me again. And again, I am too slow. It has still not fully registered that I have become this woman's enemy. The second blow sends me stumbling sideways and I'm so off balance, I end up on the floor. I put my hand in front of my face as I stare up at my aunt, wondering what the hell is going on. "Why are you so angry?"

"Answer me. What were you talking about?"

"We were talking about Clara, OK? I said I was sorry that he was forced to send her through the tower! It was just a ploy!"

Finn's word comes flying out of my mouth. Thankfully. Because it is this word ‘ploy' that changes Auntie's anger into something else. Not regret, that's for sure, but possibly… confusion.

I grab at this turn, getting to my feet. "He's vulnerable, Auntie. Don't you see? I'm trying to get close to him. To make him like me."

Her confusion solidifies into something else now. It's hard to read, but I'm hoping it's acceptance. "To make him like you. No. To make him want you. Sexually."

"Yes! Of course!"

She smiles. Then sighs. "I apologize, then. I should've realized you'd resort to sex to complete the job."

"What the hell does that mean?" I didn't intend to say that out loud, but out loud it comes.

"You've always been a whore, Jasina. How many boys have had their hands up your shirt, hmm? Maybe the better question is, how many of them have had their hands up your skirts? Well, I am not surprised. I always knew you'd resort to sex. But what do I care? It's just your nature. And it benefits the Rebellion, so… carry on then."

Wow. Once again, my mouth drops open in shock. Such a shock, I can't even speak. A whore ? I would not call myself a whore. Not even by the laziest standards, let alone the strictest ones. Ceela has been with many more boys than I have. Sure, Lucindy is still a virgin, but she's a prude. Even Britley has been with two boys and she's nearly as chaste.

Auntie snaps her fingers at me. "Stop wasting my time, Jasina. Report your progress."

Report my… is she serious? She thinks she can just abuse me like this and I will… what? Submit and cower? I'm about to lay into her good—hundreds of colorful insults on the tip of my tongue—but instead, I take a breath and pull myself back under control.

Matron Bell is not a woman you mess with. She is mean and dangerous, but more importantly, she is powerful. I've always taken this power for granted, but only because I thought I was part of the inner circle. We're family, after all. We're on the same side.

At least I thought we were.

This display today tells me something different. I am nothing to her. She might call me niece, but in her mind, I am nothing but a servant. I am not anything special. I am not some prophesized Chosen One who will save the day.

I am a whore, apparently. Well, I guess it's better to know where I stand than to go on thinking the people I care for care back.

And actually, Auntie's betrayal cancels out my own betrayal this afternoon with Finn Scott. He might lust after me, but at least he doesn't look at me with disgust the way she is right now.

What did I do, though? What triggered this?

It must've been Finn. It's the only possible explanation. I quickly run the meeting back through my head, but from Auntie's point of view. I picture Finn and me at his table, leaning into each other like we were telling secrets. Like we were… intimate.

OK. I guess, if I were the one in charge of a political coup and my highest-placed spy was looking cozy with the enemy, I might jump to conclusions. I might even become paranoid.

But this meeting with Finn today was mostly innocent.

Wasn't it?

I mean, I hadn't planned on betraying the Rebellion. Not at all. Everything I did last night was to get more information. At least, it was until he started touching me. Then… well. I don't have time to parse all those feelings right here in the moment, but it hadn't even entered my mind to switch sides, that's for sure.

"Jasina!"

I jump. "Yes."

"Report!"

"Right." I take a deep breath and talk. "I got in, but I got caught. That's why we looked familiar back there."

"You"—she scoffs, blinking her eyes at me like she's astounded by my idiocy—"were caught ?"

"Yes." I'm already on thin ice with her, now is not the time to lie. So I spill everything. "He was drunk, he mistook me for Clara for some reason, and then he… he… he kissed me."

That's as far as I'm willing to go. I will not tell her about how he had his fingers between my legs. And I'm definitely not telling her how it made me feel.

"So he came to his senses at the table today?"

"His senses?" I scowl. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You are no Clara, Jasina. She was the perfect Spark Maiden." She smiles and places the back of her hand along my still-stinging cheek in a caring gesture that is at odds with the words spilling out of her mouth and the look of pity in her eyes. "You will never be a Spark Maiden, my dear. You haven't got the breeding."

My whole face screws up in confusion. "Well, you were a Maiden, and I'm your niece. So I'm failing to see?—"

"You're a mongrel, Jasina. I was born in the Tower District. You are nothing but"—she crinkles her nose here. Like I smell bad—"a lowly, third-generation, down-city slut."

Wow. For the second time in five minutes.

"What is the plan going forward?"

Well, now that I think about it, I actually do have a plan going forward—it's to sabotage this entire Rebellion. Fuck these people. Who the hell does she think she is that she can just insult me like this and expect me to play good little spy for her? No. No way. I'm done.

But of course, I don't say any of that to evil Auntie Bell. Instead, I start a new ploy. I'm starting to like that word. "I think I can get inside that Looking Glass room tonight. I think he's interested in me. He told me to come back. That's what we were talking about at the table."

That's not actually how it went. But when I offered to come back he certainly didn't object.

Auntie smiles here. A very wicked smile. "He wants to fuck you."

I do not cringe, I simply shrug. "Maybe?"

"There's no ‘maybe.' You're a whore. He wants to use you and throw you away. You will let him do this, Jasina. But if he throws you away too soon, my dear, you will be discarded by us as well. I expect a report tomorrow about the Looking Glass room. Do you understand?"

I nod enthusiastically. Because I feel like this meeting is coming to an end and I desperately need to get the hell out of here so I can sort through everything that just happened. "I understand. I will have details tomorrow. Important details that will further our goal of toppling the tower god. I promise, Auntie."

I turn, so ready to retreat, but I am yanked back by my hair. So hard, I nearly fall backward on my ass. I stifle the scream and the insults—not to mention the tears—and cower in front of Auntie as I turn.

Just bow to her, Jasina. Just grovel. It's what she wants. And if you give her what she wants, she will let you go.

"Please, Auntie." I whimper these words, more angry than afraid. But she doesn't want a strong woman, she wants a weak one. She's always wanted a weak one. That's what I am to her. Something… pitiable. Pliable. Disposable. A mongrel. So I become that girl. I put up my hands, like I'm afraid she might strike me, and project a sense of weakness and cowardice—the complete opposite of how I see myself. Or how I thought of myself before this encounter, anyway. "I'll get the information. I swear!"

Auntie Bell seems to grow bigger above me. Like my fear—pretend, or maybe not—is enough to build her up. "You'd better, Jasina. I'm warning you. Do not cross us. The consequences will be catastrophic for you."

I nod, breathing heavy—some of which is not entirely faked—and stand back upright, though careful not to look her in the eyes at the same time. I hunch my shoulders and move towards the door again. She's still got a hold of my hair and for a moment, I'm not sure she'll let it go. Maybe she plans on walking me back to the dorm like a dog on a leash?

But then I'm free. And I don't walk away calmly or with any kind of dignity, I take off running.

When I get back to the dorm , Ceela, Britley, Harlow, and Lucindy are already there, busy sorting fabrics for dressmaking. Our next gala is in three days, so that's how long we have to make our gowns.

Lucindy looks up from a pile of silk. "There you are! Where did you go?"

I shake my head. "Later, Lucindy. I need to…" But I don't have a word ready for what I need, because what I need is… clarity. Time. A fucking drink and maybe even a pipe filled with sunweed. "I need to use the restroom," I say, because it's the only thing that will get me some privacy without question. "Be right back."

I force a smile as I slide past, into other spaces, and I just keep going. Not towards my own nook, but around more corners, and down more hallways, and into more sunken spaces, and up more empty stairwells, and again, I have to wonder why the hell this place is so palatial with enough beds for hundreds of girls when there are only meant to be seventy-five.

It doesn't make sense. But then again, nothing about my world makes sense right now.

By accident—or maybe not—I find myself standing in front of the doorway that leads to the secret passageway and I have an almost uncontrollable urge to pull it open and run to Finn.

But he's not even there. There were dozens of girls in line after me. He'll be busy until late afternoon, I'm sure.

Jasina, you're an idiot . My self-deprecating words slither around in my head like a serpent. Running to him is a mistake because you outed yourself as a freaking spy !

That was really stupid. In fact, that henchman of his—Mitchell Davies—is probably on his way to collect me right now. Then what? I'll be kicked out of the Little Sisters and?—

Stop. That's not how it's gonna go, Jasina. If Finn was going to out you today, he would've done it right there at your meeting.

This calms me because it makes sense. He wants something from me. He didn't exactly invite me back, but he didn't tell me not to when I made the offer. Mitchell Davies is not coming to get me. Not yet, anyway.

I catch my breath and I look at anything but that door.

I turn back to the stairs and go down, looking for a bathroom so I can wash my face and then slip into the sewing room and get to work on my next dress. But that's when I see that book again. The same spine that was sticking out of the stacks the last time I was walking around this space.

I pull off the shelf and stare at the cover. The Godslayer and His Courtesan.

I know the story. The kids' version, not this one—which is something much more than a child's tale because this is a thick tome and not a picture book. Actually, the best clue is the subtitle, which reads, The Untold History.

Interesting. Because this implies that it's not a myth, the way it was portrayed in the children's book I had as a child, but something more.

The tale of the Godslayer and his Courtesan isn't just one story, it's dozens. They are all different—they even happen in different places. Even different periods of time. But they all have a common theme—the Godslayer's love for his Courtesan.

But they also have a common conflict. Every tale starts with them being separated. The Courtesan is kidnapped, the Godslayer loses his memory. She falls into an alternate reality, he has to go on a mission. Of course they always reunite in the end. But if I recall correctly, some of the tales were rather dramatic close calls.

This is the common theme for all the stories, but how he breaks free and reunites with his one true love has several dozen versions. But eventually, they come together and spend eternity destroying the god towers and reuniting the liberated gods with their spark goddesses.

He's more of a tower-slayer in these stories, if you ask me. But… no one asks me anything.

I pout, holding the book to my chest as I look down at my feet. I'm still upset. Still in shock from the absolutely denigrating attack I just suffered from my own aunt. Who, up until just a few minutes ago, was a person I looked up to.

What did I ever do to her?

What did I do?

"Jasina?"

I turn, startled, and find Ceela standing in the entrance that leads to this space. "You scared me."

She lifts up one shoulder in a half apology. "Sorry. I just got worried when you didn't come back from the restroom. What are you doing?"

Her tone started light enough, but that last question… I dunno. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but it came out accusatory.

I hold up the book. "I saw this on the shelf the other night. The Godslayer and His Courtesan. Remember that one?"

She smiles, but… is it fake? I can't tell. Auntie's words are now rumbling through my head. If he throws you away too soon, my dear, you will be discarded by us as well .

Ceela would take my place as lead. Even though I consider her a friend—I do, I really, really do—she is… bold. Like I am. Like I was, at least. Until I nearly got raped by the boy assigned as my escort and then got slapped around by the woman I trusted most in this world, that is.

Ceela is a natural ringleader. So I need to be careful about what I say here. What if Auntie has already offered her my job if I should fail?

Might Ceela have an interest in helping me fail?

"Remember when we used to read this book together when we were kids?"

Ceela makes a face. "What are you talking about? I never read that book. I hate fairy tales."

"It's not a fairy tale, it's a myth. And of course you've?—"

"I said I didn't, Jasina. Why are you arguing with me?"

"What?"

"You're acting weird. What are you doing in here?"

Again, I hold out the book. "I just told you. I wanted this book." I snap these words at her the same way she snapped her words at me.

But she's preoccupied, busy scanning this space for clues as to why I might be here that don't include this book, and I'm counting my blessings right now that she didn't find me upstairs in that space where the door is. Because she would've figured it out.

Finally, she blows out a breath. There is nothing to see here. It really is about a book and she has accepted it. But her words are still terse and they come with a look of high suspicion. "You're testy today."

I scoff, clutching the book to my chest, then push past her and start walking back to my nook. "Yeah, well, you would be too if Donal Oslin tried to rape you in the hallway and Matron Bell slapped you across the face for not making progress."

"What? Jasina! Why didn't you say something?" Finally, she sounds nearly normal again. Her silk-slippered feet patter behind me as she hurriedly catches up.

"Because I was shaking, Ceela. And confused. And I wanted a stupid fucking book to make myself feel better. And then you come along, trying to accuse me of something?—"

"I didn't! I wasn't!"

"Whatever. I'll be in my nook."

"But our dresses!"

" Fuck the dresses." I make my way back to our space, then disappear around a curve of a wall that leads to my nook. I stop, pressing my back against the plaster, trying to not to hyperventilate as I listen, to determine if Ceela is following me.

But she's not. A few seconds later, I do hear her whispering, though. All four of them, actually.

So that's it, I guess. She's turned them against me somehow. What a great day. I lost my aunt and all four of my friends.

I have nothing left but this job.

A job I don't even want to do anymore.

I continue into my nook, flop down onto my bed, open the book and start to read.

But I can't even see the words over the tears that spill out of my eyes and flow down my cheeks.

I stay curled up in bed with the Godslayer all afternoon and evening. I don't even get up for dinner. I just listen to the sounds of Little Sisters all through the dorm. They are busy, busy, busy sewing dresses because tomorrow is a prize day and someone gets to have to have dinner with the Extraction Master tomorrow night.

They all want to be Chosen for that. They all want to be Chosen for everything because they are stupid and don't see the Choosing for what it is. A way to make them buy into the idea that being fed to the god in the tower is a fun, once-in-a-lifetime chance that can't be passed up.

Even my former friends are buying into it because they are dutifully sewing their stupid dresses, hoping for the chance to sit across from Finn Scott tomorrow night at dinner. To have his full attention.

I wonder if he will stick his fingers between everyone's legs before he's done here?

At this point, nothing would surprise me.

None of my former friends came check on me when I didn't show for dinner. Tonight is the first night the dining room on the very top of the Maiden Tower is open for us and we had planned to go together.

It's like I'm not a part of them anymore.

They don't even say goodnight to me and when the lights go out, I don't get up and go to Finn.

I simply cry myself to sleep.

Because I'm all alone now.