Freya's POV

My bare feet sink into a meadow dappled with golden sunlight. Grass stretches tall around my knees, moving gently with the breeze. Jareth is there too—my Jareth. He holds my hand, spinning me in lazy circles while his laughter tumbles out, warm and sweet. Sunlight glimmers in his eyes, catching faint flecks of gold.

“You know,” he starts with that infamous crooked grin, “our first kid is going to inherit your stubborn streak. No question about ...