Zaid combed his finger through his hair, stepping outside of the slave’s quarters. Denae was waiting for him. She told him to meet her in her room as soon as he was ready, and…he was ready.
Probably not mentally, but physically, he was ready. He’d put on one of the best pairs of clothing he had; precisely a pair from the batch Denae had given him. His shoes were worn out and his hair was probably a mess, but he did his best to look the least bit presentable.
Patting down his ashy, black pants, he set off towards the pack house, carrying nothing but his heart in his hands. He felt incompetent, felt like a disappointment. He was going to formally meet his mate’s family and he had absolutely nothing to offer…
Not even a glass of cheap wine or a wristwatch…
This was really the lowest he’d
