This one is for my sister. There wouldn’t be a Scarlett and Tella if there
hadn’t been a Stephanie and Allison first.
The invitations arrive in boxes. They appear at the stroke of twelve—noon, not midnight. It would be tragic for these invitations to get lost in the dark or stolen by the greedy stars.
The boxes are a perfect snow-white wood and the width of one page.
Oohs fill the air as the boxes are found on doorsteps and windowsills across the city. Snowflakes are carved into the top of each one, and people’s names are burned into the sides.
Before, the air was filled with cold and fog, but now it’s filled with the magic of what could be.
Some people open the boxes right away, quickly untying the red velvet ribbons that seal the wood in place of locks. Others take their time. Boxes like these have never just appeared across Valenda before. Many people wish to savor the moment as they bring their pretty boxes inside cottages and castles and flats overlooking snow-covered streets full of peddlers who now all wish to go home and see if they’ve received boxes as well.
It’s this wishing, this wonder, that seeps into the wood of the box, dropping down to the invitation inside, so that when the lid is lifted, the sheet inside appears blank at first.
Then …
The page crackles like a log in a fire about to break. There’s a spark, a sizzle, and a tiny pop of light that comes from the center of the sheet. The light spreads like a firework, covering the page in shimmering golden script:
