The invitation
309 Words
This looks fancy.
The words slip out in a whisper as I run my fingers over the thick cream envelope. The royal wax seal catches the light — deep blue, stamped with an ornate crest that glints like metal.
Dad’s study is quiet except for the soft ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner. The air smells faintly of cedarwood and ink — his scent — and I can almost feel his presence still lingering here, strict and watchful.
I glance toward the open doorway. Downstairs, I can hear Mom humming faintly, her voice drifting up from the dining room as she fusses over the place settings again. She’s too distracted to notice I slipped away. Good.
I tilt the envelope in the light, my heart beating faster. This letter looks important — too important — and Dad left it right here on his desk, half-hidden beneath a pile of paperwork.
Curiosity wins.
I slide my thumbnail under the edge of the wax seal, easing it up just enough to lift without tearing. I work carefully, holding my breath so I don’t make a sound. No rips. No marks. Nothing to give me away.
“You’re really doing it,” Willow murmurs in the back of my mind.
Her voice has that smug tone that always makes me roll my eyes, even though no one can see it.
“Of course I am,” I whisper back.
The letter slides free — thick, crisp paper that probably costs more than all the satin napkins Mom’s been swooning over downstairs. It feels heavy in my hands, the kind of paper reserved for royalty or death.
Willow leans closer in my mind, her curiosity buzzing against mine. “Read it already.”
I unfold it slowly, my pulse thrumming in my ears as my eyes skim the elegant writing.
- Writer
