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"It's not a date."

Damaris exhales hard and turns away, heading for the kitchenette like he needs something to do with his hands, pulling open a cupboard with more force than necessary. "Fine. But I'm not letting you walk into that place alone."

He grabs a plate without looking and sets it down on the counter. Something in my chest loosens, just a fraction. I watch him for a second longer than I should.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, already reaching for another plate. "Here. Eat. Then get changed for the date that is not a date."

The Black Chapel is already crowded by the time we get inside.

"Let's go for a drink first." Damaris drags me to the bar, and I look down, wondering for the tenth time that night if my second-hand button-down and straight trousers stand out too much.

Ma bought them for me at the market after we got the scholarship news. She was so happy she cried right there between the clothing stalls.

Everyone here looks expensive. I shouldn't care, but I do. I've never been asked to go out with anyone. Not that this is a… well, yeah. Whatever this is, it's my first time.

Around me, jewelry catches under the low gold lights and tailored jackets hang off shoulders like nobody cares what they cost. Even the people leaning against the walls look polished in a way I don't think I'll ever manage.

I tug at the sleeves of my button-down, hyperaware of the cheap fabric against my skin.

Good Light, I overdressed, and now everyone's going to think I actually tried for this.

"Well, look who decided to come back," the bartender drawls, leaning his forearms on the counter. "Didn't think we'd see you again so soon."

"I didn't plan on it." I glance down at the counter before looking back up.

"Mm." His eyes flick to Damaris, taking him in just as openly, then back to me. "Your friend?"

"Yeah."

There's a flicker of something in his expression as he reaches for two glasses, quick enough that I almost miss it. Amber liquid splashes into both before he slides them across the counter.

"I'm good." Damaris steps back from the counter.

The bartender ignores that. "Boss takes care of his guests."

I glance at the drinks, then back at him. "We didn't order anything."

"You didn't have to." Amusement flickers across his face. "Somebody's interested."

Damaris grabs the tumbler and I think he's going to throw it straight at the smug bartender's face.

"Dama, he's just messing with you," I say, taking it from him and pressing it back into his hand. "Come on."

He hesitates before tightening his grip, then brings it to his mouth. I lift mine too, taking a careful sip. It burns all the way down.

Around us, the crowd shifts and swells, someone laughing too loudly near the bar while a pair of students disappear into a darker corner. Music pulses through the room, low enough to feel more than hear.

"Let's get this date over with, shall we?" Damaris is already steering me away from the counter before I can argue, weaving through the crowd, squeezing past a group pressed shoulder to shoulder around a card table while someone lights a cigarette near the back wall.

"And while you grab your drink with Virel, I'll keep my eyes open," he says. "If anything feels weird, we leave."

I glance over at him. "Deal."

He grins, all boyish and Dama and best friend, and I'm very glad he came.

Like he's been waiting for us, Lucan appears at my elbow, wearing a crisp shirt and tight trousers, his dark hair perfectly brushed. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite newcomers."