ribbons
"Lili, this is for you. It comes from the best seamstress in the Moth Court."
The box sits heavy in my hands, its polished surface catching the morning light that streams through the windows. Dark wood, pale silk lining - a perfect contrast, just like the treasures nestled inside. I lift the lid carefully, the scent of cedar and something faintly floral rising to meet me.
The gloves lie folded with precise elegance - one pair black as midnight with silver lace, the other a vibrant red edged with gold and white that seems to shimmer even in the dim light.
"They're beautiful."
The words come out soft.
Setting the box aside, I throw my arms around Joaalk, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and road dust that clings to his traveling clothes. He feels thinner beneath my embrace, the planes of his back more pronounced than I remember.
"Thank you, Dad."
Kiki watches us with eyes that shine suspiciously bright, one hand pressed to her chest as if holding in her joy.
"You could wear a pair to the dance"
she suggests coming closer, her touch light on my shoulder.
"Since you keep changing your mind about your dress, these would anchor your look."
Her fingers tap thoughtfully.
"Black goes with everything, and the red would make quite the statement."
I trace the edge of the gold embroidery, considering. It's true that I keep changing my mind about the dress for the Spring Ball. Red is not bad but purple is my favorite color. But I also like light blue. Or maybe orange would be better for the spring theme?
"I might think about it, yeah."
I close the lid as I lift the box again, the weight comforting in my hands.
Joaalk's smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"I heard there's Ribbon Binding today. Why don't you wear a pair?"
Yes, the ribbon binding, the "meeting" Cardan was referring to yesterday. It's one of the many events leading up to the Spring Ball, and this one was organized by my mother, or at least, she's one of the main organizers. Only like the terrible daughter that I am, I had completely forgotten about it.
"It might a bit too fancy for this event"
Kiki interjects, her hand smoothing down Joaalk's sleeve in that gentle way she has.
"Save them for when it matters."
I stare at the box.
"Too fancy?" I echo her words.
Joaalk shrugs. “I disagree. There’s nothing wrong with a little elegance.”
Flor’s voice whispers in my memory, crisp as the morning air: You must be elegant always, sensual when it suits you, but never vulgar. Your appearance is the first word in a conversation you haven’t even begun.
Kiki smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You just don’t want your gift collecting dust.”
He chuckles, the sound warm.
“That too.”
I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but a lot of the things I learnt yesterday seemed really interesting, and even useful. I never thought I’d be interested in thinking about having control over someone without actually exercising it explicitly, but I found myself fantasizing about actually doing it, and wanting to test it.
What better moment to test it than this event?
"I agree with Dad"
I say, lifting the red gloves. The silk slides cool against my palm.
"I have that cream dress. These would pair perfectly."
Kiki’s brows knit.
"But you have to go to the palace first. The Ribbon Binding starts right after class in the grove behind the hill."
Joaalk waves a dismissive hand.
"Then let her stay home today."
His voice softens as he turns to Kiki, his thumbs brushing her hips in an intimate gesture.
"I haven’t seen either of you in weeks. One missed class won’t bring the High King’s wrath upon us."
She hesitates, but he leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. The tension melts from her shoulders, her laughter bright as wind chimes.
"Okay"
she relents, swatting at him half-heartedly.
Joaalk winks at me over her shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels right—the three of us together, sunlight spilling across the floor. I smile. I'm so happy he's back.
The afternoon slips by in a haze of Joaalk’s stories, tales of mist-shrouded valleys and cities carved into cliffs, of customs where guests exchange teeth instead of gifts and dances performed solely by candlelight. He carefully avoids mentioning his official duties, spinning the journey instead as a traveler’s reverie. By the time Kiki departs to finalize the event preparations, my eyelids feel heavy as lead, because due to the fact that dad returned early in the morning and we spent the whole day together, I couldn't sleep much.
"Here."
He presses a tiny crystal vial into my palm. Inside, two drops of dawn’s dew shimmer like liquid silver.
"For the weariness. Can’t have you drowsy during the night."
I swallow the tonic. It tastes of cold mountain air and something faintly electric, jolting my senses awake instantly. Magical creatures might thrive on no sleep, but for me it's obviously different, I’ve learned the hard way that human bodies betray their limits cruelly. And I have to be awake and active for this event.
The cream dress is softer than I remember, the red fabric roses at its hem and sleeves blooming like real petals against the ivory silk. It was given to me by Talia for my eighteenth birthday and still never worn.
Gia’s fingers work deftly through my hair, doing my hair in a backdo that matches the roses on my dress, weaving braids adorned with delicate gold hooks that catch the light with every turn of my head. When I slip on the gloves, the material molds to my skin like living silk, the red seems to pulse in the dimming light.
Maybe Flor is right—presentation is everything.
And if I'm going to test what she taught me, I might as well look at the part. I look at the vial of pomegranate perfume I won during the treasure hunt sitting on my vanity, and consider whether or not to wear a drop. Its ruby liquid promising borrowed allure. It would increase my charm perhaps, but it wouldn't allow me to test whether my skills are good.
I discard the idea and reach instead for a vial of jasmine scent, sweet and floral.
"Dear, there’s a carriage outside."
Joaalk’s knock is followed by the door swinging open. His breath catches audibly.
"By the King's Grace." he murmurs.
"You look like a forest nymph stepped from a bard’s tale."
Heat rushes to my cheeks. In stories, nymphs are creatures of impossible beauty, wild and untouchable. The compliment settles over me like a mantle.
"Thank you"
I manage, suddenly self-conscious. Had I tried too hard? The mirror says otherwise—the girl reflected there is all sharp edges softened by silk, a carefully crafted daydream.
"The carriage is here already? But I didn’t call for one yet."
I glance at Gia, who shakes her head fervently.
"Not me, Miss! I’ve been with you all this time."
Joaalk’s expression turns speculative.
"Then I’ll investigate."
He strides out, leaving the door open.
I descend the stairs slowly, my gloved fingers trailing along the banister. Through the window, I watch Joaalk exchange words with the coachman, his posture relaxed, his gestures easy.
When he steps back inside, his mouth quirks with barely contained amusement.
Smoothing the red silk over my wrists, I meet his gaze.
"Did Mom arrange this?"
"It seems" he drawls, "that your prince has sent for you."
"My what?" The words stick in my throat.
"Prince Cardan." He nods toward the window.
"Or at least, his carriage."
Outside, sleek black lacquer gleams in the torch light, the insignia of the Greenbriar family etched in golden on the doors. The sight sends an unwelcome flutter through my stomach, though I tell myself it's merely surprise.
"I completely forgot” I murmur.
Cardan had been clear: a carriage would collect me after class. But since I never arrived at the palace, it must have waited there in vain before being redirected here. He must be quite irritated, if not furious.
"He must think highly of you to even send a carriage"
he remarks, leaning against the doorframe.
"I'm glad your friendship is going well."
Friendship. The word sounds absurd on my mind. What we have is no friendship, it's a tangled web of deception and half-truths. He thinks me repulsive yet plays at courtesy; I intend to unravel him thread by thread until he cares despite himself. Neither of us knows the other's true intentions.
"I think I'd better go" I say at last.
I take my time descending the front steps, each movement slow because of the dress.
The coachman bows as he opens the carriage door, revealing an interior upholstered in golden velvet, the cushions plush as clouds. As I settle into the seat, I catch Joaalk's wave from the window, his free hand already sorting through papers from his journey.
The carriage lurches forward.
Once over the hill, the carriage rounds the final bend, revealing the grove in a dappled glow of torchlight and lanterns.
And there he stands: Cardan, a shadow against the verdant backdrop, his posture radiating barely-contained impatience. Courtiers stream past him, bowing as they go, but his gaze remains fixed on the horizon, until the carriage catches his attention.
As we roll to a stop, I catch the exact moment he recognizes the crest. His jaw tightens. Irritated indeed.
The door swings open, and I take the coachman’s offered hand, stepping down with deliberate grace. I step onto the soft earth, the hem of my dress brushing against my ankles as I meet Cardan’s gaze.
The lantern lights catch in his dark, tousled hair, glinting off the gold and gems draped carelessly across his chest. His white blouse is open, scandalously so, revealing the smooth line of his collarbone and the lazy sprawl of a jeweled necklace resting against his skin. The pendant, a cluster of deep, glittering stones, is nestled in the hollow of his throat, shifting slightly with each slow breath he takes. Over it, he wears a black jacket, its cut tailored to perfection, emphasizing the lithe, effortless grace of his form. His trousers, similarly dark, are cinched at the waist by an ornate belt, the golden serpent coiled at its center gleaming like something alive.
His gaze lands on me, a slow, searing sweep from the red roses at my hem to the gloves hugging my arms, lingering where the silk dips at my collarbones. When his eyes finally meet mine, one dark brow arches.
"You’re late."
I dip into a curtsy, the red silk gloves pressing lightly against my skirt.
“I apologize."
“Did your commitments take up your time?”
His voice is dry, clearly irritated.
Actually, the lesson I thought I was supposed to have with Flor and Teon tonight has been moved since they too have been caught up in tonight's events. Not that he needs to know that.
For a fleeting second, I consider lying. Giving some grand excuse, something to make me seem untouchably busy, someone with more important things to do than linger in his presence.
As funny as it would be to respond with a joke, I don't think it's worth irritating him further.
Cardan’s gaze sharpens. His irritation doesn’t wane, but I see curiosity flickering beneath the surface like a barely banked flame.
"You weren’t at the palace."
It’s not a question. It’s an accusation wrapped in silk.
I hold my ground, meeting his stare without wavering.
"My father came back this morning."
I say, keeping my tone measured, unbothered. I remember Flor’s lesson: confidence, even when in the wrong. Especially when in the wrong.
Cardan's lips curl slightly.
"I see." he muses.
"I thought you might have abandoned the arrangement altogether."
"As tempting as that may be"
I counter lightly, tilting my head just enough to catch the way the light gilds his jawline—a calculated move Flor would approve of. The red silk of my gloves creaks faintly as I clasp my hands.
"I would never dream of leaving his highness alone."
His gaze flickers, moving over me in a slow, unhurried sweep that lingers at the roses climbing my sleeves, the exposed line of my throat. Something passes through his expression before he exhales a soft, exasperated sigh, then turning on his heel.
"Let's see if you're as adept with ribbons as you are at testing my patience."
I follow, suppressing a smirk. If only he knew.
The path to the grove unfolds like something from a dream. Lanterns cloaked in pink and purple glass cast prismatic light across the mossy stones, while torches burn with unnatural blue and green flames. Magic hums in the air, sweet as stolen honey.
Cardan strides ahead, his boots crushing fallen petals with each irritated step. My skirt, with its delicate embroidery and snug bodice, forces me into shorter, measured strides. He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t glance back. The distance between us feels like a silent punishment for my tardiness.
The grove itself is a vision: lights strung between branches like captured stars, laughter bubbling over the clink of glasses. Couples dot the clearing, some already weaving their ribbons into glowing braids, others chatting with strips still loose in their hands. A few non-participants linger at the edges, their eyes bright with mischief and wine.
Kiki spots us immediately. She’s a whirlwind of motion, adjusting lights and directing staff, but she pauses to sweep toward us with a dancer’s grace. Her curtsy to Cardan is flawless, though her attention snaps to me like a magnet.
"You’ve arrived!"
Her smile is sunshine itself.
"My dear, you are a vision!"
Her hand flutters to her mouth before she adds, with a conspiratorial glance at Cardan
"You’re obviously striking as well, Prince. Forgive me, a mother is always biased."
Cardan nods, but his gaze lingers on me a beat too long.
Kiki produces strips of free fabric strips from her bag— one pristine white, one jet black, shimmering with latent magic.
"You know how it works, but I’ll remind you: you have to be able to form a single ribbon with these two, and be able to make it shine."
She presses one into each of our palms, giving me the white one.
"You must do it together, only tying the one I gave you individually. The brighter the glow, the greater the connection."
Cardan and I lock eyes across the scant distance between us. The same thought seems to pass between us like a shared blade: this ribbon will never shine.
Someone calls Kiki away with an urgent gesture.
"I must go"
she murmurs, squeezing my shoulder before slipping into the crowd, her rosewater perfume lingering behind.
Cardan stands motionless, his ribbon clenched in a loose fist, the black fabric stark against his jeweled fingers. His gaze is distant, fixed on some point beyond the laughing couples, his jaw set in that particular way that means he's calculating how much longer he must endure this.
I have to act up.
I close the space between us with measured steps, letting my gloved hand almost trail along his forearm, not touching him but just enough for him to notice it. His gaze flickers downward, watching the near contact.
"Shall we find somewhere to sit?"
I murmur, leaning close.
His eyes snap to mine.
"You want to sit down already?"
His voice is laced with amusement, but stil controlled.
I curve my lips into a practiced smile, every movement flowing with calculated grace.
"I'd rather not have an audience while we fumble through this.”
I murmur, letting my gaze sweep pointedly across the watching crowd. The ribbon trembles slightly in my grip.
His eyes darken as they trace the lines of my face. I wonder if he detects the careful orchestration behind each gesture. After a weighted pause, with a lazy flick of his wrist he gestures toward a more secluded corner of the grove, where a low wooden bench is set beneath the glow of hanging lanterns.
The cream silk of my dress whispers against the grass as we walk. I feel the brief, searing heat of Cardan's gaze dipping to where the fabric clings, just for a heartbeat, before he looks away.
As we settle onto the bench he takes off his black jacket, placing it on the back of the bench and with the flickering light his features are even more stunning.
He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees, and his open blouse shifts, revealing more of the sharp lines of his collarbones, the glittering pendant at his chest.
I inhale slowly, schooling my expression into something poised. Controlled.
My fingers brush against the fabric's edge in my hands.
"Shall we try?"
The white fabric lace folds crisply between my fingers as I present it to him. Cardan's gaze flickers from my hands to my face, lingering just long enough to make my pulse stutter before he takes his own strip. He loops his fabric over mine, pulling it taut with a sharp tug. The knot forms tight, efficient, binding the two pieces together.
The joined ribbons lie inert in his lap, pale against the dark fabric of his trousers. Nearby, another couple's unfinished bow already glows softly between them, their heads bent close in quiet conversation.
The contrast isn't lost on me..where they sit hip-to-hip, a careful inch still separates Cardan's thigh from mine.
I shift closer under the pretense of reaching for my ribbon's end, the movement bringing me into the space beneath his outstretched arm. I accidentally brush hin fabric of his open shirt, and suddenly I'm acutely aware of how near my lips are to the now exposed curve of his shoulder. The scent of him wraps around me as I work, my fingers trembling only slightly as I form the next loop.
When I glance up, I find his eyes already on me. The ribbon remains stubbornly dull between us.
"We have to make it glow"
I murmur.
A beat passes. Then another. I hold his gaze, keeping my expression calm, expectant.
I watch as he loops his end through mine, the movement practiced but unhurried. As he does, his knuckles graze the fabric of my gloves, a feather-light touch that shouldn’t make me feel the way it does.
The glow from the ribbon flickers, then dims slightly.
He ties another knot, and I tie another. His gaze flicks to my latest attempt, lips curling.
"Didn't they ever teach you how to do that properly?"
I study my slightly lopsided handiwork.
"Binding ribbons with someone to forge some inexplicable, glowing bond?"
The words drip with false contemplation as I meet his eyes.
"Never. What about you?"
He makes a soft, amused sound, more exhale than laughter. Finally a good reaction.
"Is this one of those special princely skills?"
I press, letting my smile sharpen.
"to be able to tie a perfect bow? How many times a day did they make you tie them?"
"Countless"
he drawls, looping the ribbon through mine with infuriating grace. This time when his fingers brush mine, the fabric flares with a brief, golden pulse that dies as quickly as it came.
I lean in to examine his work, my hair skimming his forearm. His breath hitches, just once.
“You could teach your partner something"
I murmur, withdrawing just enough to watch his reaction.
His lashes lower, shielding his thoughts, but the ribbon shows it—tightening under his sudden grip.
"Are you pretending to be incompetent" he asks slowly, "so that I'll teach you?"
I feign innocence, lifting the ribbon between us as if that were my only concern.
"Would that work?"
The question floats on a breath as I tilt my head, my hair cascading over one shoulder.
Cardan's fingers still for the briefest moment as he reach for the fabric, betraying him. The ribbon glows, soft and warm between us.
Then he chuckles, shaking his head as if to dismiss the moment entirely.
I take my time, fingers brushing over his as I guide the fabric into another knot. My voice is softer when I speak, measured.
“Seems like I'm not completely hopeless.”
His quiet huff of amusement doesn't quite mask the way his gaze drops to my mouth before wrenching away.
"High praise of yourself, truly."
The ribbon gleams brighter. Neither of us acknowledges it, but we still look at each other. His lips twitch, as if he's about to say something.
"Cardan?"
A high, silvery voice cuts through the space between us, the moment shatters, and the ribbon loses its glow, becoming dull and lifeless again.
Before I can even turn, I see her. A pixie with green-tipped wings, slipping behind him with the ease of someone who has done it many times before. Her arms loop around his neck as she hugs him from behind, her hands brushing against his collar. The way her fingers skim his collarbones speaks of familiarity, of permission granted long ago.
Cardan doesn’t react, not outwardly at least. There’s the smallest flicker of tension in his shoulders, but his expression remains impassive, his body a portrait of practiced indifference.
"I haven’t seen you in ages" she purrs, pressing her cheek closer to his
"I’ve missed you, handsome."
His eyes flick to me, brief and assessing. I keep my face carefully blank. I am clearly uncomfortable, but I don't want to show it.
The way she drapes herself over him makes me think they know each other pretty... deeply.
"Are you coming to Locke’s party?"
Her hand drifts to his hair, then his cheek. There’s something too casual, too at ease in the way she strokes his dark hair, as though she’s memorized the feeling of it beneath her fingers.
I shift uncomfortably, glancing away, fixing my gaze on the distant lanterns swaying between the trees. The lights blur slightly.
Out of my periphery, I catch Cardan shifting away.
"I don’t know” he deflects, his tone void of real interest.
"It's not fun without you.” I can hear the pout in her voice
“Fine. But if you change your mind—"
I turn briefly to see her leaning in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispers something that makes his shoulders tense. I don’t hear it, but I see the way his jaw tightens. The way his fingers flex slightly before he forces them back into stillness. Whatever she said, it got to him.
Then, as if noticing me for the first time, she gasps.
"Oh! Have you been here this whole time?"
Her wide-eyed innocence is almost impressive. Almost.
I turn fully toward her, and I blink, feigning surprise. My smile sweet as poisoned honey.
"Seems like it."
My voice is smooth, pleasant, the very picture of polite amusement. Flor would be proud.
She barely spares me another glance before returning her attention to Cardan.
"You know where to find me."
Only when she’s finally satisfied, finally pulling away, does she turn back to me with a saccharine grin.
"Bye."
"Bye!"
I chirp back, waving my fingers with exaggerated enthusiasm. She blinks at me, puzzled for half a second, then shrugs it off and flutters away.
The moment her back is turned, my mask cracks and my face falls into a scowl. Cardan’s gaze burns against my profile.
"I didn’t think you had that in you." he muses.
"What do you mean? She seems lovely."
I remark, layering every ounce of sarcasm I possess into the words.
His lips twitch. "You think so?"
"Oh, absolutely" I reply, saccharine-sweet.
"She was so nice to come and say hello so warmly."
Especially because I didn't think Cardan would let hands to be so easily put on him without reacting or pushing her away.
"I can sense the opposite meaning of what you're saying."
he tells me with a slight smile on his face.
"Did that bother you?"
"Why would that bother me?"
I make a point of adjusting my gloves, smoothing the fabric over my wrists. As if I truly don’t care.
Cardan hums, leaning back against the bench and observing me, the gems on his chest shine with his every movement.
"If you think I’m easily rattled, you’re mistaken"
I add, smoothing my skirt.
"I’m not as short-tempered as some."
"Are you implying I am?"
"I didn’t say any name."
My smile is knife-sharp. His smirk widens.
I pluck the ribbon from his lap, tying the next knot with exaggerated care. He counters with infuriating leisure, his fingers brushing mine as he completes the pattern. The ribbon shimmers between us, bright enough to cast a faint glow over our hands once again.
I tilt my head.
"Interesting."
His brow arches. "Mh?"
Leaning in, I let my voice drop to a whisper.
"It seems our connection is better than we thought."
He sits back, crossing his legs with ease.
"Don't flatter yourself."
But the ribbon is still glowing.
Eventually, he smirks as he gets up.
“Well, I suppose we’ve proven we can tolerate each other. Shall we parade our success?”
I roll my eyes smiling but stand with him, smoothing the folds of my dress. Around us, other couples have finished their bows, some ribbons glowing, others dull and lifeless. A few seem to be retying theirs, perhaps hoping that the bond will spark with a second attempt.
Kiki spots us and beams.
“Oh, look at you two! That’s a lovely glow.”
she says, hands clasped together. Then, lowering her voice as if conspiring
“And you didn’t even argue? Some couples almost killed each other.”
Cardan makes a sound in the back of his throat, something between amusement and disbelief.
“We are perfectly civil.”
I give him a sidelong glance but say nothing. He says that but it's obvious that he's still angry with me. Kiki smiles at us as she leaves once again.
More guests are filtering into the grove, their laughter mixing with the warm hum of conversation. The scent of honeyed pastries and fresh flowers drifts through the air. There’s a section where small groups are gathered around storytellers. In one corner, a game is taking place where blindfolded participants must find their partner by the sound of their voice alone.
Before I can decide what to do next, Locke appears, slipping through the crowd like a fox through tall grass.
"Ah, Cardan, Lilia"
he drawls, grinning like he knows something we don’t. His eyes flicker between us before settling on our still-glowing ribbon.
"What an interesting pair you make."
I don’t miss the slight edge to his voice, nor the way his gaze lingers on me assessing, weighing. As if trying to discern something beyond what the ribbon might suggest.
Cardan, for all his apparent ease, tenses almost imperceptibly.
"What about you?"
he counters, voice smooth as ever.
"Shouldn’t you be with your own pair?"
“She was here just now.”
Locke muses, tapping his chin theatrically, then looking back at us with a sly gleam in his eye.
"But you two, Cardan, the ribbon you’re holding is quite brilliant."
Then he shifts his gaze to me, and something sharp glints beneath his usual playfulness.
"This event is meant to reveal a connection"
he continues, tilting his head.
"You wouldn’t want to deny the magic’s judgment, would you?"
I arch a brow.
“Are you suggesting I should throw myself at someone’s feet because of a glowing piece of fabric?”
Cardan lets out a wicked grin.
"Would you? That would be a sight."
Locke chuckles, shaking his head.
“She’s far too stubborn for that.”
At that, Cardan’s grin fades slightly, his gaze sharpening on Locke. It’s a small shift, but I catch it.
I hum thoughtfully.
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you test it yourselves?”
Locke’s laughter rings out, easy and unaffected.
"I didn't mean to upset you" he says, lifting his hands in mock surrender.
"Spare me from your fury, Lilia."
"I'm all but a fury."
I reply, suppressing a smirk.
He glances over his shoulder as if noticing someone.
“You are both attending my party at my house later, aren’t you?”
"I’m sure you already know the answer."
Cardan replies dryly.
Locke only grins, unfazed.
"Then I'll see you there."
With that, he disappears back into the crowd, vanishing as suddenly as he arrived.
Cardan sighs. Actually I didn't plan to go to his party. Should I tell him?
A group of fae girls approaches bowing, their silken gowns trailing over the grass like ripples on a dark pond. Their attention flits between Cardan and me, then lands on our ribbon.
"How charming"
one of them purrs, voice honeyed but sharp.
"Though I must admit, I never imagined you'd have a glow, Prince Cardan."
He tilts his head lazily, unimpressed.
"Then your imagination must be terribly lacking."
The girl laughs, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
“I wonder… if we were to try, would we match as well?”
"You're welcome to find out"
I say, gesturing toward the ribbon.
"But you’d have to undo it first."
Her smile falters, just for a second.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of interfering in the tradition.”
“Of course not.”
I return her saccharine tone with my own.
She studies me a moment longer, before offering a shallow curtsy and turning to lead her companions away.
Cardan watches them go, then turns to me, amusement flickering across his face.
"You’re enjoying this."
I lift my chin.
“Dealing with you, someone has to get used to it.”
Cardan hums as if considering this.
“Could be a reminder to never get on your bad side.”
I smirk. “Oh, I think you already have.”
His lips twitch, as if he's holding back a laugh, but before he can say anything else, a bell chimes through the grove, its ringing carrying through the air like a silver thread, signaling the start of the evening’s final activity.
The ribbon between us still glows as we step forward together.