Page 129 of The Next Lie

She follows me in, her leisurely pace marked by neither hurry nor fear. She has never needed either.

“You’re wet, also,” she says.

“I did notice that.”

“Was Blackwood inhospitable?”

“Blackwood is always inhospitable.”

“And yet you keep visiting.”

I take another sip. “I have interests there.”

Her gaze settles on me, sharp beneath the polish. “Do you?”

This is the dance. She knows something. I know she knows something. Neither of us names the thing first unless we want to give the other a blade.

The answer is too smooth. Too ready. I keep my face still.

“Every now and then,” I say.

She moves to the chair near the fireplace and sits with the slow grace of a woman who has never once hurried because of anyone else’s urgency. Back straight. Ankles crossed. Hands folded loosely in her lap.

A queen receiving a report.

That is the part I cannot forget. She is the queen.

Whatever else has shifted, I am still standing in her house with her whiskey in my throat, wearing the place she gave me like a collar beneath my skin.

“Why did Delia take a dip in the Blackwood pool?” she asks.

“She and Reva Hart fought.”

I use the name deliberately. If she reacts, I need to see it.

She does not react. This tells me she knew Reva was alive. She knew she was in New Orleans and at Blackwood House. She knew I knew.

“And why would Delia fight with Nash Blackwood’s houseguest?”

“Delia fights with anyone who stands close enough.”

“That is true.” Her smile is faint. “But she seemed…shaken.”

“She does not like surprises.”

“No,” Isabel says. “And yet that should have been trained out of her by now.”

Something cold moves through me.

“Well,” I say. “She saw a sister she thought was buried. It unsettled her.”

“Did it unsettle you?”

“Of course.”

Her eyebrow lifts by a fraction. I keep my expression impassive, letting the lie stand. She lets me.

For several seconds, the only sound in the room is the faint tick of the mantel clock and the muted movement of the house beyond the doors. Delia upstairs. Servants keeping out of sight. Men posted along the grounds who know better than to enter unless blood is called for.