Page 97 of Black Reign

“I need to get dressed.”

“Haverhill.”

Gone.

I look toward the staircase.

There is only one way to find out how bad this has become.

The bridal suite occupies half the upper floor.

I knock.

No answer.

Knock again.

A female voice calls, “Who?”

“Blackwell.”

The door opens six inches.

Jade Holt looks out.

Her eyes narrow.

Then the door opens completely.

“You.”

Good start.

Jade is already dressed in deep wine silk, dark hair swept back, earrings catching the afternoon light.

She gives me a slow inspection.

“You’re nervous.”

“Why is everyone saying that?”

“Because you look nervous.”

“I look exactly the same as always.”

“No. You’re doing the jaw thing.”

Apparently my face has become communal property.

I step inside.

The room smells like flowers, hairspray, champagne, and whatever highly specialized form of chaos occurs when several women prepare for a wedding together.

Stella is near the windows, already dressed, watching a makeup artist finish something on Hannah.

Isa is sitting cross-legged on a sofa despite wearing a gown that probably costs more than several cars.

Hannah is in front of the mirror.