Freya's POV
A blonde woman, dressed in a sleek black dress, collided with me, sending a splash of red wine over my pristine gown. She barely offered an apology.
I couldn't help but feel that the incident was no accident. The chill in her eyes and the satisfied smirk on her lips as she walked away spoke volumes.
With Elena's help, I slipped into a new gown, styling my hair into loose waves and allowing a few strands to frame my face. The make-up was quick but effective, banishing all signs of the earlier mishap.
As I left my room, the sickle-shaped pendant at my throat felt like a talisman, warding off any more clumsy blonde encounters.
I walked with purpose, the soft swish of my gown the only sound to accompany me as I traversed the hallways to where Logan's car awaited.
