The Blade of Shattered Hope (The 13th Reality #3) by James Dashner Page B

feel such hopeless desperation.
    Of the twelve Alterants of Mistress Jane, this one in the Fifth would be the only one to die. Well, this time around, anyway.
    ~
    Mistress Jane stood at her favorite spot in the entire Lemon Fortress—maybe her favorite spot in all of the Realities. The open window of her room overlooked countless miles of forests, fields of green grass and wildflowers, and the snowcapped mountains in the distance. The beauty of it was overwhelming, even as seen through the eyeholes of her mask.
    Normally she’d take it off, but she expected Frazier to report at any minute. And despite several months having passed since her entire body had been scorched and mutilated by Higginbottom, she had yet to let anyone see her true self—only her hands, so they’d know something horrible had happened. But she was still too ashamed, too embarrassed to reveal any other part of her now-hideous body. Especially her face. A face that had once, she thought proudly, been very, very beautiful.
    A face that now looked like the scarred surface of a planet too close to a boiling sun.
    At least the pain had subsided somewhat. With her increased powers over Chi’karda, she’d spent many days experimenting until she’d finally been able to manipulate her nervous system, a complex network of seemingly infinite human “wires.” In the beginning she could only reduce the pain when she concentrated, focusing in deep meditation. But as the weeks passed, she’d come to learn to do it on instinct, and life had become much sweeter. More conducive to fulfilling her long-awaited plans.
    But, unfortunately, she was still a long way from changing her appearance. For now, she had to settle for the robe and the mask to hide herself from the world, even from her closest friends.
    Friends, with an “s” at the end? She was being far too generous. Only one person in all the Realities considered her a friend—Frazier.
    Speaking of the devil, she heard a knock at the door.
    “Come in,” she said, sending out a wave of Chi’karda to dissolve the door, something she’d done a thousand times—much more satisfying than merely pulling it open, and a task that was much easier now with her supercharged abilities over the realm of physics.
    She looked over from where she stood next to the window, and after Frazier had stepped through, she imagined the billions of tiny particles that made up the wood of the door coming back together. She pushed a mental surge in that direction, and with a buzzing swoosh, the door appeared as it had seconds before, unblemished and whole.
    With another mere thought, she made one of the eyebrows on her red metal mask arch upward. “Is it finished?”
    Frazier walked over, obviously trying his hardest not to smile, but it was there anyway, especially in his eyes. “Yes, Mistress. The twelfth one is in place, secured in the Fifth. All of them have nanolocators and monitoring devices injected within their bodies. The observation area is alive and chirping as we speak. All we need now is—”
    “I know what we need!” Jane snapped, flowing her mask into anger. “Honestly, Frazier, sometimes you act as if all this were your idea, your plan. Keep speaking to me like I’m some lowly wretch, and I’ll end your service to me—swiftly and painfully, I assure you. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done for me.”
    She regretted the words even as they flew out of her mouth, hating the look of sincere and utter hurt that melted the poor man’s face. But they had to be said. Once again, Frazier had shown traces of . . . confidence. Too much of it. She couldn’t allow it. Confidence led to insubordination and betrayal. Always.
    “I’m sorry, Mistress,” Frazier muttered, his eyes downcast, his hands folded in front of him. “I’m only excited to see our—um, I mean, your plan—come to fruition.”
    There it was again, even after she’d rebuked him. Our plan—he’d actually said it! As much as it