The Arena: an experience I was prepared for but certainly not used to, and one which I regretted suggesting as soon as we arrived in the city.
Caius had insisted on me wearing a golden headdress with a delicate representation of the laurel leaves that were worn only by the highest ranking members of this society.
I had made the bold decision to wear the sheer dress I had modified with swathes of Tyrian purple in my attempt to intimidate Caius, and that was one of the main things I was regretting as we rode through the streets to the Arena in a small chariot led by the white horse I knew Caius saw as symbolic of something.
He took my hand to help me out of the carriage and smiled at me affectionately.
This was a romantic evening and a sign that I was open to reconciling; except, it wa
