Sparktopia Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
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“I don’t know.”

Mitchell starts yelling, pointing at Gemna. Then he snaps his fingers and Jeyk has grabbed her by the arm and is pulling her off the stage. She’s screaming at Finn now. “Coward! You only care because you lost something this time! You never cared about anyone but yourself and Clara!”

Everyone starts yelling at once. And then we’re surrounded by Matrons ushering us backwards in the direction of the Maiden Tower and the Little Sister dorm.

What happens next is hidden from my view, but the commotion continues behind us until we’re all back inside the building, making our way through the hallways.

Britley and Lucindy are shook up over what just happened, nervously chatting on either side of me as we enter the dorm and make our way down the brightly painted blue canal towards our spaces. Ceela and Harlow are leading the way in front of us, discreetly whispering to one another.

“Girls!” Everyone in the dorm stops and the whole place goes silent when Auntie Bell’s voice echoes off the four-story ceilings. We all turn, almost in unison, because the shuffle of dresses sounds coordinated.

She’s standing in the middle of the open double doors, looking down her nose at us with hands folded in front of her. “You will not ever again discuss what happened after the Extraction tonight. Not even whispers. Do you hear me?”

“But Matron Bell,” one of the more popular up-city girls says, “they were so disrespectful of the god and our tradition. Both the Extraction Master himself, and our Maidens.”

She makes a point of stressing the word ‘our’ here. Because technically, the Spark Maidens are the property of Tau City. It’s all paid for by Tau City. Which means it’s paid for by us. Well, not me—I’m not a taxpayer—but that’s not the point.

The point is that Gemna acted in a way unbecoming of a Spark Maiden. She was not poised, proper, and polite tonight. Neither was Clara. Not at all. And all of us saw it.

Neither was Finn acting much like the god’s master of ceremony. Calling people pigs! What was he thinking?

“It was a stressful night, Little Sister Maylyne, wouldn’t you agree?”

The up-city girl nods, reluctantly. “Yes. But they’re all stressful. No one wants to go into the tower, but—” She scoffs here. “The nerve of her. After ten years of mooching off city taxpayer money⁠—”

“Enough!” Auntie nearly blows her top over the boldness of this girl’s statement, cutting it off. “You heard my order. There will be no discussion. Not even whispers. Now quickly get to bed. You’ll be up before sunrise for your first official day in Little Sister training. Lights out in five minutes.”

I’m looking at Auntie when she says these words, and she’s looking directly at me as well. Her eyes narrow and she gives the slightest of nods. Get to work, Jasina. That’s what that nod says. Then, with a swish of her tunic and scapular apron, she turns and walk out the doors.

I blow out a breath, because I’m exhausted. Like never in my life have I ever felt this tired. And that little nod was a gentle reminder that my nights are not for sleeping.

We all turn back to the dorm and I make my way to my space at the end of the canal. I’m not even undressed when the lights go out and I end up pulling my nightgown on over my head by the glow of the dim floor nightlights.

There’s a chorus of whispered goodnights weaving their way along the gently curving walls and hallways and as I stand in the middle of my space, I say them as well.

But I don’t go to bed. I don’t make any move at all. I just wait until I hear the gentle sound of Britley’s snoring. She’s the closest one to me and this snoring is my signal to get to work.

So, in my nightgown and bare feet, I make my way to the back rooms, go down the stairs, passing by many, many empty bedroom spaces, and then find the stairs that go up.

A nightgown is not the most appropriate outfit for spying, but after living through the most chaotic start to the Choosing in recorded history, there are more important things to be concerned about.

It’s a pretty nightgown, though. As are all the clothes made for the Little Sister experience. They’re all white, of course, and the cotton is soft and light with a little bit of pastel silk ribbon trimming each hem. They’re meant to be identical, but since they are handmade, there are slight differences. Mostly in the color of the trimmings.

I didn’t even get a good enough look at this nightgown to notice the ribbons, but oh, my gods. Why am I even thinking about this? Who cares, Jasina?

There is the door.


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