The afternoon sun had dipped low. Casting long golden bars across the study as Coral and I huddled over the guest list, pages of names laid out like little puzzles pieces of a world I was still learning.
"There are so many," I murmured scanning the inked flourishes and gilded crests. "Do they all matter?"
"Every single one," Coral replied with a dry smile. "Whether for politics, appearance or gossip, they all serve a purpose. Though some..." She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Are more trouble than they're worth."
My eyes stopped on a familiar name.
Evelyn Harrow.
The name hit like a pebble skipping a memory–sun dappled gardens, sticky fingers from stolen fruits, the echo of laughter through apple trees. Evelyn, we'd played together as children.
I pointed at her name, "Is this Evie?"
Coral nodded.
"I remember how she was terrible at braiding hair. I remember the time she started shedding her teeth and she accidentally swallowed one of them." I said laughing.
Coral peered at
