Alistair’s POV

Freya pushes her chair back with a soft scrape, rising gracefully from the table. Her posture remains impeccable, her face serene, as if Briony’s thinly veiled barbs have no effect on her.

But I catch the flicker in her eyes, the brief tightening of her jaw before her composure settles. It’s clear she feels the sting – anyone would – yet she manages it with a poise I doubt Briony anticipated.

She exits the room in silence, ...