Freya‘s pov.

There was tension between Dorian and me again.

I could feel it in the silence, in the way his body leaned ever so slightly away from mine, in the glances he refused to meet. And it was all because of Selene.

I stole another glance as we rode. She was pale—more than usual. Each movement seemed to cost her. Her spine was too straight, too rigid, like someone pretending strength they didn’t have. But even now, she wore the mask of a martyr, and I couldn’t ...