The envelope sat on my desk like a provocation. It was thick, cream-colored, rimmed with gold foil, and sealed in red wax bearing the national sigil. Heavy enough to bruise someone if thrown. Intimidating in every sense.
I hadn't opened it. I hadn't even touched it.
Abe stood nearby, hands in his pocket, a smirk on his face, his eyes in a cheeky shade of blue.
"It's not cursed," he said jokingly.
I glanced at him. "It might as well be."
He walked over and gave the envelope a light tap with the back of his knuckle. "Please open it, Miss Roen. It looks like it will be something fun."
"Could still be a mistake."
"It's got your name. Your full name. In terrifyingly accurate ink," He was clearly enjoying this.
"I didn't ask for this," I muttered, turning away. "I didn't even know this kind of thing still happened outside fairy tales and assassination attempts."
Abe smiled. "The Annual Sovereign Gala. It's real. Very real. And you've been very deliberately summoned."
