Morning bit clear and cold. The house was hushed and busy.
“Up," Amanda said, pushing into Daisy's room with a cloud of perfume and a basket of pins. “We have work."
Daisy was already out of bed, legs bare, hair in a loose spill. She turned from the mirror. “I've been up since dawn."
Daisy lifted a garment bag from the wardrobe and unzipped it like unveiling a secret. Silk, moon-water color. Simple bodice, a moving skirt. Amanda touched it and sighed. “Your taste grows finer every year."
“It was hers," Daisy said lightly. “The Luna's."
“It is yours tonight," she corrected, and pushed the dress toward the screen. Behind the screen, fabric whispered. “Does Father know?" Daisy asked, voice drifting. “Which family presents first?"
“The elders start," Amanda said, “Then officers. Then us.
