Freya's POV

Alistair’s voice cuts through the languid quiet of the sitting room before I even have to look up. The tone is indifferent, almost teasing.

“So, what did I do now?” he asks, toying with the cuff of his sleeve as though the answer hardly matters.

I glance up briefly, more out of reflex than interest. Isola, on the other hand, spins toward him with an unmistakable grin. Her delight is obvious, her reaction as predictable as ...