That makes me hesitate. I have never been a particularly keen follower of the latest fashions, unlike Charlotte. There always seems to be something more pressing to think about. But lately I have begun to feel dreadfully drab. I know in part it is due to the family’s status of mourning, the endless black I must wear, the careful shunning of anything the least bit bright or showy, but it isn’t only that. After last night, after spending time with Bram, I feel … different. The party, the way I was able to behave, to be … he moves in circles who live such freer lives than mine. I so want to be a part of it. With him. Not this somber, stiff daughter of a duke, always serious, in mourning, worrying about my family. How marvelous to live as Bram does, to follow a passion, not to care what others think. Not to be tied by what is expected. But then, was I not shown how impossible such freedom is for me? What better reminder could I have had than the relentless haunting by the Dark Spirit? I might be able, one day, to escape the fetters placed about me by my position in society; I will never be free of those bonds that tie me to the coven. My heritage as a witch comes at a price. It may be that my heart must pay that price.