Maeve
The backstage changing room smelled like a collision of expensive hairspray and pure panic.
When I kicked the door open with my heel, the scene inside was a disaster. Elizabeth was standing in the center of the tiled room under the harsh fluorescent lights, her arms raised like a broken statue. Three women from the Frost Rainbow pack, wives of Kael’s highest-ranking warriors, were buzzing around her like frantic flies.
One was scrubbing at Elizabeth’s neck with a wet paper towel, another was violently shaking a can of dry shampoo, and the third was on her knees, desperately trying to blot the front of the ruined cream gown with white napkins.
It was a losing battle. The dark grape juice had soaked completely through the silk, leaving a massive, dark red stain that looked less li
