Freya sat quietly in the corner of a small tavern, hidden from most of the crowd. She pulled her hood down and ordered a mug of ale. Her heart was heavy. More than being disappointed, she was hurt—hurt that all the love she gave wasn’t enough to free Flint from the anger and thirst for revenge that still lived in his heart.
“May I sit here?” a gentle voice asked. Freya looked up and sighed when she saw who it was. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Go away. There are plenty of empty seats around,” she muttered. But Adelaide didn’t leave. Instead, she calmly sat down across from her.
“Frey, let’s talk,” she said softly.
Freya didn’t respond at first. She just stared at her ale, fingers wrapped tightly around the mug.
“I just wanted to say sorry,” Adelaide began. “Sorry for dr
