A gathering with dancing and food. That was just another term for a party, Erin thought. Only, it included dressing in long constricting clothes, and acting all nice and ladylike—two things that she disliked the most. She would rather crawl up a narrow, dusty, smelly, creaking metal air vent any time; but she had to do her part in order to stay fed and clothed in the cold novel kingdom—even if that meant contorting her upper limbs every which way, just to try to close the goddamn zipper at the back of her dress.
“Jesus,” she muttered in frustration, looking at her back on the mirror while trying to bend backwards in an attempt to reach the zipper. “How do you even f*****g—”
A knock on the door stopped her from cursing midway. She groaned in defeat as she straightened up.
“It is I, Kl
