Echo.

This was awkward and I'd rather go back to my cell than be in this grand room. I'd rather smell like sweat and stale blood than smell of flowers and fresh soap. I'd rather be dressed in a jailbird's attire than in a flowy brightly coloured and well-tailored gown like I was some sort of faery queen invited to an elaborate party.

All of these: attire, fragrances and hair do and clean scented body, were ringing alarm bells in my system.

Apparently, the Lycans were having some sort of grand celebration that started from the beginning of dusk to the first break of light. It was the reason I...