FREYA’S POV
Dawn’s gray light filtered through my window as I slipped into my boots, the leather cool against my feet, my dress tight, black, clinging to my curves, my blonde hair braided, glinting in the mirror, my heart racing, Lukas’s face—his dark eyes, his quiet strength—burning in my mind. I’d woken early, sleep fleeting, my body buzzing, my love for him was like a fire I’d stoke today at the shaman’s hut, a silver blade to end Selenea, his curse, his blindness to me. My boots clicked on the hardwood as I descended the stairs, the hall dim, torchlight flickering, my hands smoothing my dress, my nails polished, red, my father’s footsteps heavy behind me, his cloak rustling, his face shadowed, silent.
I paced the foyer, my boots scuffing the rug, my arms crossed, my breath puffing wh
