Freya’s pov.

I stormed out of Dorian’s room, my thoughts a raging storm. Jealousy twisted in my chest like a blade. I hated how I felt—raw, betrayed, furious. I couldn’t even see where I was going, moving like a hurricane, shoving past anyone too slow to step aside.

"Freya, calm down," Reyna's voice echoed in my head. "Don’t jump to conclusions. They were just talking."

"Talking?" Hera snapped. "Very intimately, Reyna. You saw them."

"I saw nothing," Reyna ...