So, my dears, after many days apart, I'm back. With a chapter. And I'm leaving it here. For you. I can't promise I'll get better about updating, because I just spent a week away working a job, and I had no nearby internet connection. Now, I may even have a second job soon. But, I will find time to leave a special something for you lovelies when I get the chance. Like now. Go on. Read it.

Let Your Heart Lead The Way

Chapter 7

Once Dimitri had arrived at the Palace, he had been escorted to the Men's Room. It was there that he saw the man who had been to his home.

Oh, what was his name? Sedrik? Sebastian? Sebastian! That's it.

"Hello, Sir Dimitri. If you'll follow me, this way please." Sebastian said as he led Dimitri to a chair with a masculinity to the styled vanity. It was very thick and angular, made of a dark colored mahogany.

"If you'll sit here, Sir, Amelia will be with you momentarily."

With a hesitant nod, Sebastian walked away and Dimitri remained seated. Looking around, he saw there were several men to his left and to his right, as well as many men on the other side. The man across from him had blond hair, the color of sand in the moonlight, and eyes the same shade of green as the leaves when sunlight filtered through them. He was solidly built, and he seemed to be tall, though nowhere close to Dimitri's height of 6'7". He might be scraping by at 6'0". He was likely to work in construction, or running a farm. He sat patiently as a woman behind him was cutting away at his hair, and then putting a colored goo in his hair, and talking to the man to Dimitri's left.

Sir Edison Castile of Montana, Caste of Four.

The first man to his left was the same man who had stopped to talk to Lissa with him.

Sir Mason Ashford of Alabama, Caste of Three.

Dimitri was very familiar with all the men of the Selection, thanks to his sisters. They had taken it upon themselves to educate Dimitri of what he would be going up against, and they had done a fine job of doing so. Mason sat, staring into the mirror as a tall, thin woman used scissors to trim away at his flaming red hair. He was a professor's child, so he was likely to be more educated than Dimitri was, but Dimitri had the advantage of a strapping physique. It was all thanks to the physical labors he did on any given day. Of course, that's not to say that Sir Mason was a twig. He had quite a bit of muscle-mass to him, but he wasn't as big as Dimitri.

To Dimitri's right sat a man with unruly curls the color of the darkest night. His eyes, quite the contrast to his hair, were the color of ice in an ocean. They spoke of miles and miles of pain and suffering, but they also spoke of inner strength and independence. He was a tall and lean man. He seemed to have a mysterious and deadly air to him, as if he'd cut you if you ever talked to him. Knowing exactly who he was, Dimitri thought the man was better off than his family at home.

Sir Christian Ozera of Georgia, Caste of Five.

Then, the doors were abruptly thrown open and a man not much shorter than Dimitri, maybe 6'3", at most, waltzed in with a suave swagger that spoke of practiced experience. The odor oozing from the man was extremely unpleasent, and so incredibly strong that you could smell the alcohol dripping off of him. He wasn't as built as Dimitri or Edison, but he wasn't as thinly strapped as Christian. His was a build somewhere in the middle, and it seemed to fit for him. His hair, a shade of brown that was lighter than Dimitri's, but darker than most, was wild and unruly. His eyes, the color of freshly grown spring grass or a newly cut jade, were scanning the room with calculative eyes and yet, they seemed to laze around on the most ordinary of objects. He had a confidence to him that practically screamed 'look at me, I'm from an upper caste!'

Dimitri could only think of one man that this could be.

Sir Adrian Ivashkov of New York, Caste of Two.

"Hello Sir Dimitri-" Amelia, or who Dimitri guessed was Amelia, said. She was a tiny thing, and appeared as if she'd snap in half with a single strong wind. 'She looks like one of Zoya's dolls' Dimitri thought.

"Just a little trim please. And no make-up. I still want to be me." Dimitri interrupted. He knew he might have come off as rude, but what he said was true. He still wanted to be him when he was introduced to everyone.

With a new sparkle in her eye, and a minute smile on her face, Amelia gave him a tiny nod before going to work. Dimitri sat in the chair and watched as she worked.

She worked effeciantly, taking just a little bit of hair of the nape of his neck. Next, she moved to mixing up a foamy cream, and began to spread it on his jaw.

"What I'm going to do now is spread this foam on your face, and then I'm going to shave the little stubble of your face. It won't hurt, and shouldn't take me too long. And, as you requested, no make-up."

Sitting back, Dimitri let Amelia get to work on his face. When he was shaved, she rubbed a small dallop of lotion over his face, and it soothed the slight burning feeling he felt.

Then, Amelia was off to the next gentleman that required attention. Some men were dying their hair to a completely different color, cutting it all off, or even a combination of both.

But, Dimitri liked the way he looked, and he wanted his family to be able to recognize him. He wanted them to be proud of him.

"Why didn't you dye your hair? Or even cut it?"

Dimitri looked up and saw that Edison Castile was looking at him with the questions in his eyes.

"I guess I didn't do it because no matter what happens, I still want to be me. In the end, if the Princess sends me packing, I still want to be able to look in the mirror and see me. Not a piece in a game."

Dimitri then heard a snort, directly to his left and somewhere down the line, he heard it again.

"Says the one who has met the Princess, and saved her life during the Rebel attack that took Queen Janine's." Mason muttered quietly.

"She doesn't remember him, so before you get your boxers in a twist, pull your head out of your ass."

The voice that spoke was faint, but had a gruff, masculine sound to it. Turning to look over his shoulder, Dimitri saw a man, who stood no more than 6'1" at most. He was well-built, as if he had spent a life of labors, much like Dimitri had for as long as he could remember. His dark hair complimented his tanned skin. He wore clothes similar to Amelia, so he wasn't a royal or foreign dignitary. But, Dimitri soon discovered, he was at a loss as to the man's identity.

"And who do you think you are, peasant? You lead a pathetic life of labors, working for mere pennies. Why are you even speaking to me?" That was Mason's response, after recovering from being spoken too in the first place.

"I think I'm the Princess's best friend, and have been since we were young, and I just might be your best shot at winning this Selection, because let me tell you now: you will need all the help you can get, especially with Dimitri having already met her once before. So, I'd watch yourself around me." Then, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows once more.

Whispers drifted up and down the lines of men, word now spreading that one of the Selected had met the Princess, prior to the big moment tomorrow, when the men were officially introduced to the Princess and the real games began.

Well, do you still want to strangle me?

Leave me a review!

~DA2014