EVELYN
“Come on. Your braid is perfect enough,” I turned back to prompt Elsa. We were hurrying toward one of the larger halls where Mrs. Porter had ordered us to go, and Elsa was lagging behind, nervously fidgeting with her hair for the third times since we departed.
“Are you nervous, Evie?” She asked, catching up hastily. “I mean. It’s the day.”
Yes, it was the day. The day when the much-anticipated Luna Selection would finally open. This morning, all the participants were to select their personal maids – and that’s where we were heading to.
“I suppose I’m just too tired to remember how to be nervous,” I said to Elsa as we rounded a corner. “All I want right now is a nice sleep.”
Elsa grimaced. “That’s true.”
The past three days had been grueling. I had been arranged to work the
