Of course I was. Pushing limits is the point of being a kid.
I grab a stack of books and head to the shelves to put them back when the door bursts open and my sisters Dallas and Emory enter.
Dallas is decked out in her usual jeans and cowboy boots, while Emory is total comfy-sweater person. Her cardigan is two sizes too big, and underneath she’s wearing leggings and sneakers.
But it’s the expression on their faces that makes me put down the book I’m holding.
“Chelsea,” Dallas screeches, rushing over and grabbing my arm. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Emory cocks her head as if to disagree. “Oh, she’ll believe it, all right—most of it.”
I cross my arms. “My curiosity’s piqued. What is it?”
Dallas thrusts a sheet of paper in my face. It’s invitation-sized.
What the hell?
“Read it out loud,” Dallas asks. “I can’t get enough of this.”
Emory just shakes her head. “And I’ve already gotten too much.”
Dallas shoots her a dark look, and Emory grins wide in response.
I slowly take the paper. As soon as I touch it, cold, feral magic snakes up my arm, and suddenly I’m taken back to the moment I touched the powerful wizard’s hand and our magic entwined.
The paper slips from my fingers.
“Butterfingers,” Dallas complains before picking it up and offering it to me again.
My pulse spikes as I stare at the page. Part of me wants to take it and experience that strange magic again. The other half wants to run screaming in the opposite direction.
Dangerous. It’s so dangerous.
Just like him.
I swallow down a knot in my throat and take the paper, steeling my muscles as magic seeps into me.
“Do you not feel that?” I ask.
Dallas frowns. “What?”
“The magic in this.”
My sisters exchange a look. Emory frowns. Emory, the empath—the sister whoshouldexperience this creepy, strange magic—isn’t clocking it.
“Nope,” Dallas answers.
My magic has always been sensitive. This feels targeted.
But I’m probably overthinking it.
I glance at the deep purple paper and read the words that are inked in gold. “By invitation of the Nightmare King: Every eligible lady in Castleview is invited to a ball that will take place tonight at his manor in the Nightmare District. Eight p.m. sharp.”
As soon as the last word is out of my mouth, the invitation turns into a puff of dark smoke that evaporates.
But even though the invitation is gone, my stomach fills with ice.
“Can you believe it?” Dallas asks. “The Nightmare King invited us to his house. Oh my gosh! What do you think it’s like? What should we wear?”
