Dimetrius had somehow gotten a bag worth of my clothes delivered to the Tavern. I’m not sure who he convinced to help him or how he hasn’t been called out for being with an enemy of the city. One of the perks of being a Master I suppose. I’m suddenly nervous trying to work out what to wear. I’ve spent plenty of time with Dimetrius over the years, but we have never had an actual date. My stomach is a bundle of nerves, bordering on making me feel like I want to actually be sick. I gloss over the options, deciding on a long sleeve full length dress, some knee-high riding boots and my large oversized cloak. I draw my long red hair up into a high pony tail, pulling a few pieces out around my face. That will do. I walk over towards the door to the room and take a deep breath to steady my nerves before pulling it open. I instantly lock eyes with Dimetrius, who is leaning against the wall opposite the door. His lips turn up into a sly smirk as his eyes run the length of my body, starting at

“What are they?” Being dropped down to a Slave status again for an entire year would be horrible. You literally have no control over what your asked to do by literally anyone else of higher status in the city. It was the most degrading part of leaving Oenardil. Not being able to look people in the eye. Not being able to have you own home. I hated it. I don’t know how I would get through another year of it again. “It hasn’t changed a whole lot from what he said he offered you when he visited at the cabin” I let out a long sigh and my face dropped. It certainly could have been worse, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still suck. “What has changed?” He grinned, “Your no longer betrothed to Duane” My eyes go wide when he says that. What does he mean? Once the Circle decide on a marriage nothing can overturn it besides death. Oh my god. Is Duane dead? My eyes flicker to Dimetrius’s with fear etched through them. He shakes his head. “He’s not dead” Thank god, I didn’t want to marry him bu