Freya POV
Samantha sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, drying her hair with a towel after helping me settle in. I still felt a little sore, but the bath she prepared worked wonders. The scent of lavender and mint clung to my skin, and the warmth of her room wrapped around me like a hug.
“So…” I asked, tilting my head as I tucked into the last of my stew. “Earlier, I meant to ask—how old are you really?”
She smirked. “Guess.”
I narrowed my eyes at her playfully. “Okay. Hmm. Nineteen?”
“Nope.” She popped the "p" and grinned.
“Twenty-two?”
She shook her head with a dramatic sigh.
“Twenty-four, final guess,” I said, certain I had it right this time.
“Wrong again!” she sang, bursting into giggles.
I gave her a faux annoyed look and tossed a pillow at her, which she dodged easily
