Page 159 of Reign

“I know I’m late. I just need to put these on and then I’ll be ready. Two minutes. Maybe three. No, two.”

Her hair is done. Her makeup is done.

The dress isn’t.

The zipper sits open down the center of her back, exposing a long line of soft skin and the delicate clasp of white lace. One earring is in. The other sits on the vanity beside three lipsticks, a brush, and enough discarded options to explain the last forty minutes.

She’s beautiful. She’s also nervous.

Elena has too much pride to shake openly. But I see the tight line of her mouth. The way her fingers keep smoothing the front of her dress. The small breath she takes every time her gaze flicks toward the clock.

The estate is already in the room with her. It has been since the garden.

“Princesa.”

She looks up, one heel still in her hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. We’re late.”

“Oh well.”

Her brows pull together.

“Your brothers can wait.”

She stares at me. “They can wait?”

“Yes.”

I step into the room.

“Turn around,” I say.

Her lips part.

I hold her gaze. “Your dress.”

“Oh.” Color climbs into her cheeks. “Right.”

She turns toward the mirror, setting the heel down with more care than necessary.

I move behind her.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

The room smells like her perfume and nerves. I take the zipper between my fingers.

She watches me in the mirror.

Her chin is lifted, but her pulse beats fast at the base of her throat, delicate and furious.

“You don’t have to rush,” I say.

Her lashes flicker. “We’re going to dinner with Santo.”

“I know.”